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THE LIFE 
 OF 
 
 A SPORTSMAN 
 
 By NIMROD 
 
 WITH THIRTY-SIX COLOURED ILLUSTRATIONS 
 BY HENRY ALKEN 
 
 A NEW EDITION 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 D. APPLETON & COMPANY 
 
 1903 
 
Ok 
 
 NOTE 
 
 '"PHIS Issue is founded on the Edition 
 published by Rudolph Ackermann in 
 the year 1842. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 MY design and object in writing this work was not 
 merely to depict the life of a siJortsman, in the 
 general — perhaps, with some persons, unfavourable — 
 acceptation of that term, but, taking higher ground, to 
 portray the character of an English gentleman attached 
 to the sports and pastimes of his country ; and, likewise, 
 to give a sketch of a country gentleman's family, in as 
 close imitation as possible of those of the best descrip- 
 tion, with which it has been my good fortune to become 
 acquainted. In fact, in many instances, the imitation, or 
 resemblance, is so close, as not to be doubtful to many as 
 to who are the original parties ; and they themselves 
 cannot be displeased with my selection, when they are 
 intended to be displayed as exemplars worthy of being 
 followed by others. 
 
 The plan, or outline, of this half-true, half-fictitious 
 story, is soon told. It is, as has already been observed, 
 descriptive of a country gentleman, of large fortune and 
 highly connected, having two sons and two daughters. 
 He himself is a sportsman, but only to a certain extent ; 
 that is to say, he does not aspire to fox-hunting, but keeps 
 a first-rate jjack of harriers, and is also a good shot. His 
 eldest son has nothing sporting in his constitution, but has 
 all the good qualities that adorn and exalt our nature, and 
 for which, of course, full credit is given him. The hero 
 of my tale is the younger son, who, differing in taste from 
 his brother, enters into the sports of the field at a very 
 early age, and becomes a thorough sportsman, in the 
 legitimate sense of that, often wrongly applied, term. 
 How far I have succeeded in portraying him as such, my 
 readers must be my judges ; I can only say, I have made 
 him follow, as nearly as I was able, in the footsteps of. 
 those who, within my time and knowledge, have become 
 
vi PREFACE 
 
 the most eminent sportsmen of their day, both by " flood 
 and field." 
 
 It would be unfaithful to nature, and, therefore, un- 
 worthy of my pen, were I to represent my young hero as 
 totally guiltless of those common failings to which in- 
 experienced youth is, for the most part, liable ; but I have 
 taken especial care to keep him clear of all vicious pro- 
 pensities which disgrace the gentleman and the Christian. 
 In furtherance of this purpose, then, I occasionally place 
 him in a dangerous position, the result of overweening 
 confidence in others, so natural to ingenuous youth ; but 
 rescue him, in due time, partly by his own proper prin- 
 ciples, and also by the timely assistance of a faithful and 
 generous friend. These little aberrations are the result 
 of his quitting the noble and health-giving sports of the 
 field for the dangerous seductions of the race-course, 
 which involve him in considerable difficulties, by the 
 expenses attendant on keeping race-horses in the first 
 instance, and by the treacherous conduct of his trainer, in 
 the second. 
 
 The situation in which I place my hero with his uncle 
 is drawn from real life, and with but few exaggerations or 
 additions. No doubt there are many such uncles, and 
 many such nephews ; and the moral to be drawn from 
 the relative situations in which I place the two in question, 
 may be neither uninstructive nor useless. Indeed, it has 
 been my design, throughout the entire of the work, to 
 impart to it a moral tone, so that, should those who may 
 read it not rise the better from the perusal, it will be 
 their own fault, and not mine. At all events, there is 
 nothing in the sentiments exj^ressed, or the examples put 
 forth, to make them anywise the worse. 
 
 In his character as a sportsman, I make my hero com- 
 mence with the lowest branches of the art, of which rat- 
 catching is, I believe, the type. He thence proceeds to the 
 rabbit and the badger, progressing, gradually, to the higher 
 sports of the field, and finishes as a Leicestershire fox- 
 hunter, and a horseman of the first class. I have also 
 made him a coachman — that is to say, an ardent amateur 
 of the coach-box, characteristic of the era in which I 
 place him, which is, as nearly as may be, my own. In 
 truth, here I am myself, in some respects, his exemplar. 
 He commences with'^his pony in harness, as I myself did. 
 He then becomes a pupil of a celebrated coachman on his 
 
PREFACE vii 
 
 road, as was my own case ; and, at length, he is not only 
 considered safe— that is, fit to be trusted with the ribbons 
 —but possesses as much execution on the coach-box as 
 falls to the lot of most aspirants to the very difficult art ; 
 and at length I place him in a very trying situation. By 
 the death of his elder brother, his uncle, and his father, 
 he becomes possessed of great wealth, and he does not 
 abuse the boon. On the contrary, he endeavours to 
 follow his father's example in fulfilling the duties of his 
 station, and I leave him in the possession of the esteem of 
 his neighbours and friends, without which the riches of a 
 Croesus aftord little real satisfaction to the possessor of 
 them. 
 
 Then I had another object in my view. The most 
 careless observer of the course of worldly afi'airs must be 
 aware that— as has been the case in all ages— in propor- 
 tion as a country has arrived at the highest pitch of 
 wealth and refinement, the taste for the humble, but 
 nearly unalloyed pleasures of a country life, has more or 
 less declined. 
 
 A tendency to this decline has been, to a certain extent, 
 observable in our own land, and fears have been expressed, 
 lest the noblest of all our country sports — fox-hunting — 
 may yield to this chilling, if not demoralizing influence. 
 For my own part, I do pot think it will. I entertain 
 that opinion of the force of the almost natural passion 
 for hunting, and other manly diversions which has ever 
 distinguished Englishmen from all other nations under 
 the sun, that induces me to believe it will continue to 
 uphold fox-hunting as the pride and boast of all our 
 national pastimes. We, however, do occasionally hear 
 unpleasant forebodings to the contrary. " Kailroads," says 
 one croaker on the subject, " spoil all hunting countries 
 through which they pass, and one is about to traverse the 
 cream of the Leicestershire hunts." " In a few years," 
 cries another, " Paris and Brussels will be accessible in a 
 few hours, as our fashionable watering-places already are." 
 " Melton Mowbray falls off"," exclaims a third, " no new 
 settlers in the town, and the old ones will soon be giving 
 up." "Young men leave off hunting after about their 
 third season," says a fourth. " When many of the present 
 masters of foxhounds shall be taken from us, none will be 
 found masters in their stead, beyond a third or fourth 
 season," cries a fifth. " Game preserves, and the accursed 
 
viii PREFACE 
 
 STstem of steeple-racing, is destructive of the sportsmanlike 
 manner of riding to hounds, to the great discomfort of 
 their owners," says a sixth. 
 
 I am aware there is truth in some of these remarks, 
 conse<[uently cause for alarm ; and it is on this account 
 that 1 have, in these pages, striven to the utmost to give 
 a high colour to a country life, and to represent the 
 real modern sportsman, such as I find him to be — a 
 character not excelled in ingenuous feelings, in liberal 
 conduct, in extreme hospitality, in sincerity of friendship 
 and all other social virtues, by any class m which it has 
 been my lot to move. Where, indeed, was there a fairer 
 or better specimen to be found than in the late Mr. Warde, 
 fifty-seven years a master of foxhounds, and, therefore, 
 called — " The Father of the Field ? " Who ever heard 
 him utter an ill-natured word respecting anyone, either 
 living or dead ? Where was there a kinder friend, or a 
 better neighbour ? and, above all things, where was his 
 equal as a companion ? Neither can I stop here in 
 my panegyric on this fine specimen of the old English 
 country gentleman and sportsman. Rough as was his 
 exterior, Mr. Warde was accomplished and well informed, 
 and capable of adapting his conversation to any society 
 into which he might l:>e thrown. In short, it is a matter 
 of doubt whether there has existed a man, whose name has 
 not been long before the public, either in the capacity of 
 a senator, a soldier, a sailor, or an author, so universally 
 known as Mr. Warde, of Squerries, in Kent, was to 
 Englishmen, in all quarters of the globe. Let me, how- 
 ever, not be understood to exhibit him as a pattern, in all 
 respects, for young men of the present day to imitate. 
 Although, doubtless, the somewhat rough exterior which 
 he adopted, was, in great part, adopted for the sake of 
 effect to the tout ensemble of his character, still a more 
 polished one than his was, may now be required, in con- 
 formity to the increased refinement of the age. 
 
 In the following pages, there may be something to 
 amuse if not to instruct the female mind. At all events, 
 there is a little love-making, and its results ; and there is 
 one instance of a narrow escape by my young hero, of the 
 almost inevitable consequences of an imlawfiil attachment. 
 Upon the whole, however, the bright side of human nature 
 is displayed, and the cultivation of cheerfulness and good 
 humour earnestly recommended as the sovereign antidote 
 
PREFACE ix 
 
 to those mental disorders — peevishness and discontent — 
 which distract the mind, and increase the evils of life, 
 without even the chance of either removing or lightening 
 them. Cheerfulness and good humour are the harbingers 
 of virtue, and produce that serenity which disposes the 
 mind to friendship, love, gratitude, and every other 
 social affection. They make us contented with ourselves, 
 our friends, and our situation, and expand the heart to 
 all the interests of humanity. It is in this spirit, then, 
 that I have written, as others more worthy of the task 
 have done before me — in that of Lucretius, indeed, when 
 he penned the following lines : 
 
 "Sed veluti pueris absinthia tetra medentes 
 Cum dare conantur, prius oras pocnla circiuii 
 Contingunt mellis dulci flavoque liquore." 
 
 NIMEOD. 
 Jure 2Ath, 1842. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I. Introductory— The hero presented— Items of his 
 birth, parentage, and education ; together with 
 traits of his idiosyncrasj', whereby "coming events 
 cast their shadows before " . .... 1 
 
 II. The first great step in the life of our "Sportsman :" 
 he is entered at hare— The chapter concludes with 
 many choice aphorisms concerning the noble 
 science, and sundry anecdotes, worthy of being 
 recorded in letters of gold 22 
 
 III. Devoted to rural scenes and characters, and combin- 
 
 ing matter of amusement and instruction, with 
 maxims of sound theory, and examples well 
 worthy of imitation 54 
 
 IV. The hero enters upon the stage of life, and also on 
 
 another stage, which, with various incidents 
 narrated in this chapter, will be found corrobora- 
 tive of the adage, that— "as the twig is bent, the 
 tree's incliued " 65 
 
 V. Christmas at the seat of "a tine old English gentle- 
 man," with its appropriate accompaniments— good 
 company, good cheer, and good sport ... 78 
 
 VI. College life, with some sketches of men and manners 
 at Oxford, in the latter part of the last century — 
 Bibury Meeting in its palmy days .... 87 
 
 VII. A trip to Ascot races, succeeded by an inquiry into 
 the systems and methods of travelling, from the 
 earliest ages to the golden age of the road in England 108 
 
 VIII. Eural life in hall and field ; a ball and a wound 
 
 (consequences alike common in love and war) . 136 
 xi 
 
xii CONTENTS 
 
 fllAP. PAOK 
 
 IX. Two events occur, of great inMuence upon the career 
 of the hero : lie takes liis degree at Oxford, and 
 loses his brother, wherehy he becomes heir to the 
 goodly domains of Amstead 151 
 
 X. Our sportsman has now entered in earnest upon his 
 life. He refuses a seat in Parliament, and studies 
 his craft with enthusiasm, opening his first regidar 
 hunting cam])aign with tin; Warwickshire, under 
 the celebrated Mr. Corlx^t, and tlic Pytchley, 
 under the great John Warde 165 
 
 XI. 'J'he debut in Leicestershire — Frank llaby hunts with 
 the Quorn under Lord Sefton, with Lord Lonsdale's, 
 and with the Duke of Rutland's hounds . . 182 
 
 Xir. A sample of a young sportsman's life in London — 
 A near thing for the Oaks at Epsom, and a (dose 
 shave for the Oaks at Amstead .... 199 
 
 XIIT. A season with Sir Thomas Mostyn, in the Bicester 
 country, with anecdotes of some of the leading 
 sportsmen in the provinces at that day, and a 
 glance at " home, sweet home " .... 219 
 
 XIV. A few words on summering hunters. Mr. Corbet's 
 country and men, and the finish of the season 
 with the Atherstone 244 
 
 XV. The death of Mr. Beaumont llaljy, and the installa- 
 tion of the hero into a regular sporting establish- 
 ment, the details of which are given at some length 263 
 
 XVI. The B.D.C. and B.C.M. Our sportsman makes a 
 tour, in which he visits many of the most cele- 
 brated fox-hunting establishments in England . 310 
 
 XVII. Frank Raby becomes a regular Meltonian ; loses his 
 father, and finally settles down as a master of fox- 
 hounds, the point of honour in the Life of a 
 Sportsman 356 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 A instead Abbey 
 
 Eriibletnatic Title — " The Lite of a Sportsman ' 
 •' Yoicks ! Tally-lio ! Look out for the pastry 
 " He'll leather two such chaps as that ! " 
 
 "Soho!" 
 
 Bagging the badger .... 
 
 "You are worth double what 1 gave for you 
 '' He's heart of oak ! " .... 
 Portrait of Dick Knight, after H. Mar.sliall 
 *' HLs reverence .swims like a cork ! " 
 " Who-whoop ! I've done it ! " 
 Hunting the marten cat .... 
 
 The otter hunt 
 
 *' What's the price of the young nag, miller ': 
 
 Tlie .shallows below the mill . 
 
 The Priiice of Wales— Birmingham coach 
 
 " H. for Windsor ; go along, Bob ! " 
 
 '' Never mind 'em, — they won't hurt ! " . 
 
 Bibury meeting in its palmy days 
 
 The tandem ...... 
 
 *' All Captain Askham's, sir" 
 *' He is among the dead " 
 Flapper-.shooting on the great lake in the Pai 
 *'Mr. Ridgeways' good health — noio" . 
 " Follow my leader " .... 
 
 A meet with his Grace tlie Duke of Rutland 
 A night scene with Sir Thomas Mostyn . 
 
 Frontispiece 
 To face ditto 
 Pag J l;j 
 
 18 
 
 2y 
 
 27 
 38 
 43 
 
 49 
 50 
 
 56 
 58 
 61 
 63 
 76 
 
 89 
 97 
 98 
 117 
 119 
 146 
 l.ol 
 192 
 196 
 221 
 
xiv LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 " Not Handel's sweet music more pleases the ear, "I ^^n- 
 Than that of the hounds in full cry " J " * 
 
 "The check" — "For a moment a sheep-foil now baffles the 
 
 scent" 256 
 
 The four-in-hand 288 
 
 The three teams 297 
 
 The race for the Welter Stakes 320 
 
 " Fox-hunting for ever !"....... 330 
 
 Mr. Musters hunted by his hounds 348 
 
 Our hero's first run with his own hounds .... 395 
 
 " The Master of the Raby Hunt,— one cheer more " . . 396 
 
THE 
 
 LIFE OF A SPORTSMAiV 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 lutroductory — The hero presented — Items of his birth, parentage, 
 and education, together with traits of his idiosyncrasy, whereby 
 "coming events cast their shadows before." 
 
 IX the latter part of the last century, in one of the 
 finest of the midland counties of England, lived 
 Andrew Raby, a commoner, of large possessions, and of 
 very old English blood. When, however, I use the 
 term "large possessions," I do not desire to convey the 
 idea of his having an income sufificient to keep up a 
 degree of pomp and dignity equal to that of his titled 
 superiors, but such as enabled him fully to support the 
 respectable and honourable station of an English country 
 gentleman, and to indulge in all those pursuits which 
 were congenial to his own taste, and, likewise, to exercise 
 almost unbounded hospitality towards his friends. In 
 fact, his rental was a little above ten thousand pounds 
 per annum ; which, when the usual drawbacks of agencies, 
 repairs, and other heavy outgoings attendant on landed 
 property, in addition to an annuity he paid to a sister, 
 were deducted, left him — for he had no interest of money 
 to pay to mortgagees (indeed it was his boast, that no 
 lawyer held as much parchment security of his as would 
 cover a crown piece) — a clear annual income of seven 
 thousand pounds ; at least he reckoned not on more, on 
 a fair average of years. With this comparatively limited 
 income, he inhabited a house suitable for a man of twice 
 his means. It covered three sides of a quadrangular 
 court ; displaying a sumptuous character in its archi- 
 tectural ornaments without, and containing elegant and 
 
2 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 spacious apartments witliin. Planned after the fashion 
 of the Elizabethan age, Amstead Abbey stood on an 
 island, formed by a deep moat, and within the palings 
 of an extensive and finely timbered park, containing a 
 herd of deer sufficiently ample for the use of a private 
 gentleman ; the gardens, too, were large, no less than 
 three hundred yards of '^ glass'' — as forcing houses are 
 technically denominated — being visible in them, exclusive 
 of hot walls. A farm of three hundred acres of the best 
 staple land of the county was in occupation, under the 
 eye of a Scotch bailiff; and, having been conducted on 
 improved principles, it greatly outstripped its neighbours 
 in its produce, and turned to a very profitable account : 
 the surrounding country was also of the richest and 
 most valuable description. 
 
 Mr. Raby's establishment consisted, indoors, of a butler 
 and two footmen, with all the requisite females, and was 
 only deficient in one respect — it wanted the man cook to 
 aid the English kitchen-maid ; but against this there was 
 a prejudice which time has since removed. At the period 
 to which I allude, there was an objection against these 
 chefs of the kitchen, on the score of wasteful extravagance 
 in their operations ; experience, however, has since shown 
 that their art is practised to advantage in all large 
 establishments. By the almost magical power of the 
 rechauffoir, the remains of yesterday's dinner instead of 
 being looked lightly upon, if not in great part cast to 
 the dogs, are sent smoking and savoury into the servants' 
 hall, and so disguised as to leave the inmates of it in 
 doubt whether the dishes are rechauffes or not. His 
 woman cook, however, was as good as high wages could 
 procure, and his guests had no cause for complaint. But 
 the style of living was truly English, and, as such, the 
 assistance of Monsieur was less necessary ; the consumption 
 of animals was prodigious from the numbers of comers 
 and goers, in addition to the family itself; and did a 
 sirloin of beef make its appearance on a Sunday, and a 
 round on the Monday, they might be looked for in vain 
 on the Tuesday. 
 
 There was one species of luxury — refinement, indeed, 
 it may be termed, in reference to those times — in which 
 Mr. Raby indulged ; and this was the selection of his 
 footmen and postillions. The first were London-bred ; 
 he declared that he never saw a country-bred footman 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 3 
 
 who could bring a message into a room, or an under-biitler 
 of the same genus, who could clean a service of plate; 
 and no man's table in the country was better set out than 
 Mr. Raby's. Of his coach-horses he was justly proud, and 
 he liked to see them ridden and driven to his mind. His 
 postillions — for in those days gentlemen's carriages in 
 the country were not driven from the box — were always 
 Hounslow-bred ones ; that is to say, sons of Hounslow 
 post-boys, having had their education on the road. His 
 turn-out, in this respect, was perfect. 
 
 The out-of-doors establishment was still more numerous. 
 There w^as a pack of harriers in the kennel, six able coach- 
 horses in one stable, ten hunters in another, besides a hack 
 or two to go to post, or to carry " how do ye do's " about the 
 country — no sinecure in those days : a capital team of 
 spaniels for cock-shooting, pointers and setting dogs for 
 partridges and hares, under the care of an experienced 
 gamekeeper, and a small kennel of greyhounds to contend 
 for the prizes at the neighbouring coursing meetings. One 
 appendage to the present establishment of an English 
 gentleman, however, was wanting ; I mean a band of 
 night-watchers to protect the game from poachers, an 
 operation beyond the power of any single keeper. And 
 yet it is not to be supposed that there were no poachers of 
 game in those days, as, in that case, Fielding's Black George 
 would have been an anachronism ; but the battue system 
 was unknown. Still, of pheasants, there was a sprinkling 
 in the woods of this estate ; and the delight w^hich the 
 Squire and his friends experienced when they saw Juno 
 on the foot of a pheasant, and the bird shot dead to her 
 point, more than equalled that afforded by a hattue of tJiree 
 hundred head in one day, the game being put up by stable- 
 boys, without the use of dogs, the Newfoundland retriever 
 excepted. 
 
 But the reader may well ask how all this was done on an 
 income of seven thousand pounds. — By management, in the 
 first place ; and, in the next, by only occasionally visiting 
 London for the season, Mr. Eaby having little inclination 
 for the bustle and hurry of a town life ; and Lady Charlotte 
 (he had married an Earl's daughter) had likewise the good 
 sense to be satisfied with what she had seen of it, in its best 
 form, during her residence with her father in Grosvenor 
 Square. But the " management I " that calls forth some 
 remarks. 
 
4 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 As procrastination is tlie thief of time, payment delayed 
 is a thief of another description. It is not, i^er se, a robber, 
 but it opens the door to robbery of every description ; and 
 gentlemen who require long credit, pay twenty per cent, at 
 least for it. Mr. Raby, however, went on quite another 
 tack in the conduct of his expenditure. In lieu of paying 
 a bonus, that is, what is called the " put-on- price " for long 
 credit, he received a discount by paying ready money for 
 everything purchased in London, or other distant places ; 
 and, in his own immediate neighbourhood, on the first 
 Monday in every month, all his small bills were discharged. 
 He had the list of them on his dressing-table, when he 
 came down from his chamber in the morning, and, having 
 examined the items, and found them correct, wrote a 
 cheque on his banker for the amount. He reckoned that 
 by this arrangement he saved five hundred pounds per 
 annum, which about paid his wine-merchant's bill. It is 
 scarcely necessary to add that, exclusive of any other con- 
 sideration, this punctuality in the disbursement of a large 
 income rendered Mr. Raby very popular in his neighbour- 
 hood ; and knowing, from experience of the world, that 
 
 When the means are gone that buy this praise. 
 The breath is gone whereof this praise is made, 
 
 he never deviated from the practice to the last year of his 
 life. In fact, so much esteemed was he, as a gentleman 
 and a landlord, that he might have represented his county 
 in Parliament, had he been disposed so to have done ; but 
 either from a disinclination to take the onus of so respon- 
 sible a situation upon himself, or, it might have been, 
 from a mistrust of his ability to do justice to it, it devolved 
 upon a neighbouring baronet. Still, let it not be supposed 
 that Mr. Raby was a man of mere animal life, given to 
 decry the value of literary attainments, averse to the 
 fashionable refinements of that polished age, much less 
 insensible to the common feelings of our nature. Far 
 from it, no man indulged more in those sympathies which 
 unite landlord and tenant, master and servant, in a bond 
 of reciprocal kindness and good offices, nor more strictly 
 performed the higher duties of his station. But his chief 
 purpose was this : — he wished to be considered, as nearly 
 as his nature would admit, a perfect specimen of the English 
 country gentleman, whose head modern philosophy had not 
 yet enlightened, at the expense of the best feelings of the 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 5 
 
 heart ; unsopliisticated by foreign fopperies ; a man whose 
 character could face the' world, and whose spirit would 
 not fear it. Again, this maxim was often in his mouth : 
 " Wealth," he would say, " is not his who possesses it, but 
 his who enjoys it ; " and he acted up to the moral of it. 
 ^'Lcetiis aliis, sapiens sibi," he loved to see his friends 
 enjoying themselyes by his means ; and, as regarded him- 
 self, his object was to gather the rose and leaye the thorn 
 behind. 
 
 Mr. Raby, however, being the father of my hero, I must 
 now speak of him in the capacity of a sportsman ; and a 
 sportsman he was, although but to a certain extent. In the 
 first place, he was not a fox-hunter, but confined himself 
 to his harriers, which were quite perfect of their kind — 
 indeed, the crack pack of all the neighbouring counties. 
 And well might they be such, for the breed had been pre- 
 served and improved upon, for more than half a century 
 by his father and himself ; and, from the number of walks 
 he had for puppies amongst his own tenants, and those of 
 his neighbours, he bred as many young hounds every year, 
 to make a choice of, as some masters of foxhounds. Then 
 his hunting establishment was perfect ; and, as regarded 
 horses, at least, not far from being equal to that necessary 
 for foxhounds hunting only three days in the week. He 
 kept ten slapping hunters for himself and his two men ; 
 and he never had less than forty couples of working hounds 
 in his kennel. Nor must I pass over the manner in which 
 his pack were turned out. As for themselves, they were, 
 as I have already observed, perfect. There was not an inch 
 between any one and another in height ; their form was 
 that of the modern foxhound in miniature ; their tongues 
 light, but musical, and their condition as perfect as their 
 form. His huntsman was likewise a model of his order, 
 having been the grandson of one man, and the son of 
 another, who had filled the same situation in life ; he was, 
 therefore, well bred for his calling. He was, however, 
 what is called " a character," a bundle of vagaries in his 
 way. In the first place, although a horseman of the first 
 class, he was difiicult to be suited with horses ; neither 
 did he fancy any that he had not himself made choice of. 
 And even here appeared the " character." He would take 
 a fancy to animals by no means likely to make hunters, 
 but which, as though instinct directed him in his election, 
 seldom failed in turning out such. The mention of one 
 
6 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 of these animals, in fact, is now in the mouths of some old 
 men in the parish, when speaking of Dick, the Squire's 
 huntsman, and his lop-eared horse, which he purchased 
 out of a neighbouring gentleman's coach-stable. Mounted 
 on this horse, however, Dick was in his element ; beauti- 
 fully did he ride him to the music of his crack pack, and, 
 did he espy among his field any gentlemen whom he knew 
 to have hunted in Leicestershire (he designated all such 
 " your silver -handled sportsmen "), awful must have been 
 the fence that turned him ten yards from his line, when 
 his hounds were on a good scent. 
 
 Nor was Dick less notable in the field. He "did the 
 trick " in a style diff'ering from his brother huntsmen of 
 the scut, and, to manifest his superiority by quitting the 
 beaten track, hunted his pack as if they had been fox- 
 hounds. He tallyhoed his hares when they were in view ; 
 hallooed his hounds forward, cap in hand, to a point ; and, 
 by forcing his game to fiy beyond their knowledge of the 
 country in which they were bred, had runs of extra- 
 ordinary duration. In fact, such was the speed of these 
 harriers, from the head they carried in chase, the result of 
 the care taken in the breeding of them, that many first- 
 rate hunters — ay, and hunters of fame too — have been 
 blown to a dead stand-still, in the attempt to lie by the 
 side of them in a burst, when the ground has been tender 
 under their feet, and the scent good ; and yet no man had 
 more patience than Dick, when his hounds were brought 
 down to their noses by the stain from cattle or sheep, or 
 by a passing cloud or storm. Here he was the hare- 
 hunter ; and often has been the time when success has 
 rewarded his patience, after that of his field had been 
 exhausted. What did you do with your last hare ? would 
 be the question put to him many times during the season, 
 by Mr. Raby, on his return home, he himself having left 
 in a moment of despair. " I i^ersevered, sir, and killed 
 her," was the general reply. 
 
 Mr. Eaby pursued one practice connected with his hunt- 
 ing, which might, with advantage, be more generally 
 observed. He provided his huntsman with a book, in 
 which were inserted the names of all the occupiers of 
 land over which he sported, and he ordered that a hare 
 should be given to each in his turn, and oftentimes twice, 
 during the season. 
 
 But Mr. Rabv was not a fox-hunter ; for, in the first 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 7 
 
 place, althougli an elegant horseman, and an excellent 
 judge of the animal, he was not a strong-nerved man over 
 a country. He was shy of timber and wide brooks, and, 
 therefore, judiciously avoided entering into a pursuit in 
 which he was aware he could not shine. Next, he was 
 bred up a hare-hunter, and considered that the act of 
 confining his attention to one sort of hunting would be 
 the surest means of perj^etuating the fame of his fathers 
 kennel, if not of increasing it. Thirdly, he had numerous 
 duties to perform as a magistrate, and otherwise, exclusive 
 of those of his own domestic station, which were less inter- 
 rupted by the gentler pursuit of the hare ; but when the 
 foxhounds appeared in his neighbourhood, he would often 
 see them find their fox, and they were nearly certain to 
 do so in any of his own covers. Had a keeper of his 
 levelled his gun at a fox, or designedly caught him in a 
 trap, he would have been discharged on the morrow, as 
 having committed a flagrant disobedience of orders. 
 
 Neither was Mr. Raby a • racing man. To speak the 
 truth, although quiet, even to diffidence, in bis deportment, 
 there was in his nature an ambition to excel in what he 
 attempted. His estate was the best conditioned in his 
 county ; his harriers were, perhaps, the best of that day 
 in England ; his pointers and setting dogs — for he used 
 the latter to the net — were perfect of their kind ; and his 
 breed of spaniels was sought after by every sportsman who 
 had heard of it. But he was aware that, had he sought 
 for it, excellence on the turf was out of his reach. Even 
 the legitimate means of insuring success, as the experience 
 of many of his friends had convinced him, were doubtful ; 
 the illegitimate ones he would not have availed himself of, 
 if presented to him. 
 
 There is one part of Mr. Raby's conduct as a sportsman 
 of which notice should not, on any account, be omitted, 
 inasmuch as it affords an example highly worthy of 
 imitation by all whose means give them the power. I 
 allude to the generous care he took of his worn-out 
 hunters and coach-horses, in lieu of the too common 
 practice of selling them for trifling sums, and exposing 
 them to severe labour when least able to endure it. He 
 had, after the manner of a master of foxhounds of the 
 present day,i a range of pastures sacred to the repose of 
 these pensioners on his bounty, in which tbey enjoyed 
 1 The Viscount Kelburne. 
 
8 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 themselves in perfect freedom from labour, and in full 
 suppl}^ of all that old age requires. Each of the fields had 
 a comfortable shed, to which they could resort, to protect 
 themselves from cold in winter, as well as from the gad- 
 fly in the summer, and in which, in the first-named 
 season, was the well-furnished hay-crib, and, occasionally, 
 still more nourishing food. Mr. Raby took a pleasure 
 in exhibiting these pensioners to his friends. "These 
 animals have been all valuable servants to me," he would 
 say, on such occasions, " and have strong claims uj)on my 
 protection. That roan gelding, which lias now scarcely a 
 leg to support his body upon, carried me, with my hounds, 
 thirteen seasons, and only, to my recollection, gave me 
 five falls, two of which were not to be laid to his account. 
 He was once as proud and prancing as he is now humble 
 and decrepid, and, I fear, I shall soon be obliged to have 
 an end put to his days, as a lesser evil of two. Yon milk- 
 white horse — once a dark iron-grey, dragging his slow 
 length along — was, in the days of his youth, for I bred 
 him, such a roving, riotous fellow, that no hedge or gate 
 could keep him within bounds, and it was a day's work to 
 catch him. Then, when caught, he was no horse for me ; 
 but as I happened at that time to have a sort of dare-devil 
 lad, as whipper-in, who valued him for his skittishness 
 and impetuosity, he made him an excellent hunter. Now 
 such was precisely the character of this lad himself, who, 
 after rather a wild, but not vicious career, sobered down, 
 like his colt, into an excellent servant, and lived with me, 
 as a whipper-in, till his death, which was occasioned by a 
 bad fall, but not from that horse. In fact, the horse and 
 his rider appeared to reform themselves together. But 
 the most extraordinary animal here is that strawberry- 
 coloured mare, which you see reposing in the shade. She 
 was purchased out of a hack-chaise, for the sum of twenty- 
 five guineas, by my huntsman, who took a fancy to her ; 
 and, although, as you will perceive, showing no signs of 
 high breeding, nor 3-et of much speed, she proved the best 
 hunter, for the weight she had to carry, I have ever yet 
 seen. It is evident that neither her sire nor her dam 
 could have been of pure racing blood ; but report says that 
 the latter was brought into this county by some gipsies 
 from the Kew Forest, in Hampshire, and hence her 
 excellence is accounted for. She was, I am inclined to 
 think, the produce of the celebrated Marske, the sire of 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 9 
 
 Eclipse, who covered mares — New Forest ponies amongst 
 them, of course — at the low price of one guinea. In her 
 best days, it was difficult to blow this mare in a burst : no 
 fence that could be jumped by a horse could pound her ; 
 nor did I ever know her to come home to the stable tired, 
 after the longest day's work. She is now, however, as 
 you will perceive by her languid eye, her distended 
 carcass, low back, and fallen crest, in extreme old age, the 
 evils of which I have taken some pains to alleviate, in 
 consideration of her fourteen years' services, and I rejoice 
 in the reflection that a large offer did not induce me to 
 part with her when in her ^jrime." 
 
 Having sketched the character of Mr. Raby, that of his 
 lady shall follow, and a few words will suflice. It has 
 already been said that Lady Charlotte Raby was an Earl's 
 daughter. By uniting herself in marriage to a commoner, 
 she had descended a step in society, according to the 
 opinion of the world, although, in her own eyes her 
 husband was ennobled beyond the power of a coronet 
 to dignify him, by his conduct as a man and a hus- 
 band. Neither did she look back with regret towards 
 the theatre of her early life, in which her charms and 
 accomplishments had met with universal admiration. She 
 had enjoyed nearly seven years of what is called the 
 fashionable London "World, and that in all its glory ; and 
 she had had enough of it. She had become the wife of a 
 country gentleman, and was the mother of four children ; 
 and she learnt, from the experience of the first seven years 
 of so very different a life, this great moral truth : — that, 
 although pleasure, amusement, and oblivion of self are to 
 be found in the ballroom or at the opera, and, although 
 they occasionally hover around the stranger's hearth, still 
 of all the sources of human hapj^iness, domestic life is the 
 richest and most productive ; and had Lady Charlotte 
 Rab}^ read Horace, she would have exclaimed, with him, 
 whilst reviewing her situation at Amstead Abbey, in the 
 bosom of her own family, and surrounded by friends in 
 whose esteem she lived, " Quod i^etis hie est.''' In other 
 words, she might have added this postscript to her 
 answers to the letters of her London correspondents, who 
 transmitted to her the doings of the gay world : — Wliat 
 you look for elsewhere, I find here. 
 
 There was, however, one feature in this amiable lady's 
 character which I am unwilling not to exhibit to my 
 
lo THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 readers. It too often happens that highly-bred women, 
 who emerge from the vortex of the fashionable world to 
 reside in the country with the husbands of their choice, 
 look slightingly on the wives and daughters of the 
 gentlemen in the neighbourhood who may not have had 
 the entree into similar walks of life (from which, indeed, 
 their situation and circumstances excluded them), or are 
 unable to exhibit so many quarterings in their escutcheons. 
 This was not Lady Charlotte's failing. On the contrary, 
 like a woman of good sense, she conformed to the 
 situation which she had selected for herself in every 
 respect ; and although, within the circle of her visiting, 
 there were several ladies holding rank nearly equal to her 
 own, still there were no young ladies of her acquaintance 
 oftener to be seen at the Abbey than the daughters of the 
 rector of the parish. 
 
 The rector of Amstead was an old-fashioned country 
 clergyman of whom John Bull was once wont to be so 
 proud, and to whom obedience and tithes were paid 
 without a murmur. Enabled, by the value of his 
 preferment, the prudent management of his income, and 
 a limited family — two daughters and one son — to make a 
 most respectable appearance in society, and to add to the 
 valuable instruction given by him to his congregation in 
 the church, assistance to such as stood in need of it at 
 their homes, he was extremely beloved in his parish. In 
 fact, he was to the poor a " Man of Ross ; " and to his flock 
 so much a pastor to their mind that dissent was unknown 
 in his parish. And yet the rector was a sportsman — at 
 least to a certain extent. He was an excellent shot, in 
 cover especially, the woodcock being his favourite quarry. 
 And here his turn-out was somewhat remarkable, for he 
 was always accompanied by his clerk, who was not only 
 an excellent beater of a wood, but, having been the son 
 of an Amstead gamekeeper, well knew the haunts of a 
 cock, in all the covers in his neighbourhood. The clerk, 
 however, like his rector, was much respected in his 
 village, where he was considered a man of no mean 
 accomplishments, inasmuch as, exclusively of his sacred 
 avocation, he was both a shoemaker and a schoolmaster, 
 which induced a wag to indite this couplet over his 
 door : — 
 
 John Wells' trades are three — 
 Cobbler^ clerk, and domine ! 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN ii 
 
 The mention of one more person is essential to the 
 development of my tale — Mr. Beaumont Raby, brother to 
 the Squire of Amstead, but of very different habits and 
 pursuits. In the first place, he was not a sportsman ; and 
 this for reasons independent of a natural disinclination for 
 all sports of the field. His immense size would have been 
 an obstacle to it, for he might have played Falstafi" with- 
 out stuffing. Again, his health was not good. He had 
 incurred some of the penalties attendant on idleness and 
 high feeding ; but he equalled his brother in kind-hearted- 
 ness and good feeling, and exceeded him in accomplish- 
 ments, the result of the life he had led. His history is 
 this : — Having had an ample fortune left him when a 
 child, by a person to whom he was but distantly related, 
 he entered, with his brother, as a gentleman commoner of 
 Christ Church, Oxford, where he took a very high degree. 
 He then became a member of the Inner TemjDle, not with 
 the view of making a profession of the law, but to qualify 
 himself for a member of the senate, which it was his 
 ambition to become. Nor was he disappointed. He sat 
 in two short Parliaments, during which he made three 
 speeches, each affording the promise of brighter days 
 to come. They were not only occasionally adorned by 
 classic flowers, culled from the poets and historians of the 
 Augustan age, but they were also remarkable for clear 
 views of their subjects, and a business-like manner of 
 debating them. The natural indolence of his disposition, 
 however, obtained the mastery over his inclinations ; his 
 seat in the House was not sought for a third time ; he 
 became a mere votary of ease and pleasure — in fact, what 
 is called a regular London man ; thinking with Sir 
 Fojiling Flutter, in the play, that " all beyond Hyde Park 
 Corner is a desert." At all events, the simple and humble 
 pleasures which a country life affords would have been 
 to him something more than insipid. Nevertheless, the 
 two brothers were greatly attached to each other ; were 
 inseparable when in London together ; corresponded 
 regularly when at a distance ; and, perhaps once in three 
 years, the ci-devant Templar and ex-member of the senate 
 would quit the gay scenes of London and Bath to pass a 
 few weeks at the Abbey. 
 
 It has already been stated that the family of Mr. Raby 
 consisted of four — two sons and two daughters— all of 
 whom lived to attain their majority : Francis, the second 
 
12 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 son, however, is the hero of this story, and here his 
 history begins : — 
 
 He was born in the year 1776, and being the issue of 
 sound and healthy parents, and a perfect and well-shapen 
 infant, soon struggled into what may be called life ; that 
 is to say, the " mewling and puking in the nurse's arms "' 
 was, in due time, succeeded by a strong desire to get upon 
 his legs and amuse himself. In fact, although to declare 
 the end from the beginning is not within the scope of 
 human power, there was something about this boy, at 
 the end of his third year, which indicated that, one day 
 or another, in one jDursuit or other, he was likely to 
 overtop the crowd. It is true the human mind is made 
 for action ; but this child was as active and restless as the 
 hyaena, and showed a desire to pry into everything within 
 his reach ; and the predominance of his taste was not long 
 in disj)laying itself. If he found a stick, he wanted a 
 string to tie to the end of it ; and if he found a string, 
 he wanted a stick to tie the string to. In fact, a whip 
 was his delight, but the sight of a horse transported him ; 
 and from morning to night did his little tongue ring the 
 changes of horse and whip, whip and horse, varied only 
 by an occasional notice of a favourite dog, that was 
 allowed to make its domicile in the nursery. In short, 
 as the dawn of morning generally shows the day, it was 
 evident that Francis Raby was to be a sportsman. 
 
 As may be imagined from their situation in life, Francis 
 Raby and his brother (who was named after his father) had 
 every care taken of them in their infancy ; and, before 
 they were eight years of age, their characters were pretty 
 clearly developed. But as " one star differeth from another 
 star in glory," so did the characters of these brothers 
 vary in a very unusual degree. Andrew was always in 
 the house, and with his mother when he could be ; 
 Francis out of doors, and about the stables as soon as he 
 could break loose and steal away. Andrew delighted in 
 a book ; Francis appeared to have an antipathy to one. 
 Andrew was pale and sickly, and subject to infantine 
 diseases ; Francis was a miniature waggoner in frame and 
 constitution. In one respect, however, they assimilated. 
 Both showed indications of talent, and, in their exercises 
 with their tutor, who prepared them for Eton, "the 
 promise of a goodly day to-morrow." 
 
 There is nothing more certain than that all things must 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 13 
 
 have a beginning ; and what may be called the sporting 
 career of Francis Kaby commenced about his tenth year, 
 when he became possessed of a couple of terriers, of a 
 good game breed, sore enemies not only to the rats about 
 the buildings, but to all the cats of the house, which were 
 hunted by them about once a week. On one occasion, 
 however. Master Francis had almost driven the jest too 
 far ; for, having chased one of them into the kitchen, with 
 his terriers close at her tail, she leaped on the table and 
 upset a tureen of turtle souj^, that was on the point of 
 being served up to a dinner party. Frank, however — for 
 such he was always called, as most Francises are — got well 
 out of the scrape by his great popularity among the 
 servants, who either took the mishap upon themselves, 
 or laid it to that scape-goat in all families — the cat. 
 Frank and his terriers, however, were much dreaded in 
 the neighbourhood by all who had favourite tabbies, as 
 a gripe from either Pineher or Vixen was very apt to 
 prove fatal. But, did Mr. Eaby know of this cat-killing 
 propensity ? and, if so, did he encourage it ? The general 
 character of that gentleman leads to the conclusion that 
 he would not have encouraged, in his children, cruelty 
 to animals, a vice the very reverse of the characteristic 
 of the thorough English sportsman. Nevertheless he was 
 well aware of this truism — that to restrain the pleasures 
 and pursuits of youth with too tight a hand, is as pre- 
 posterous as to be angry with the spring of the year 
 because it produces nothing but blossoms, or to expect 
 from that early season the fruits of autumn in their 
 perfection ; and it must be admitted that, when he saw 
 his favourite son, Frank— for most fathers have favourites 
 — with a couple of terriers at his heels, and his ferret bag 
 in his hand, he was delighted beyond measure. "That 
 boy," he would say, " will be a sportsman, and one day or 
 another will see him at the top of the tree, if he lives." 
 And he had a right so to predict of him. No matter 
 whether pleasure or business be the object, whoever 
 pursues either to any purpose, must do so con amore, 
 which was truly Frank's case. No sooner did his tutor 
 dismiss him, than he was at war with one description of 
 vermin or another; and he was wonderfully expert in 
 his calling. 
 
 As similarity of taste inspires regard, Frank, as he 
 progressed in years, formed a strong alliance with one 
 
14 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 of the head keeper's sons, who, as his father had initiated 
 him into the entrapping art, was of no small service in 
 his pursuits ; and such was their success in ferreting 
 rabbits, that they furnished the supply for the house, 
 of which they were not a little proud, as there was no 
 great abundance of them on the estate — Mr. Raby being 
 averse to their increase, on account of the injury done 
 by them to young trees. To a certain extent, however, 
 he wished to preserve them, as the means of insuring 
 litters of foxes in his covers. Still, as may be 
 supposed, this intimate alliance with Jem Perren, the 
 young keeper, was not without its effect on the aspiring 
 mind of his young master. From the superiority of 
 Jem's knowledge in these matters, as well as having 
 the advantage in years, Frank looked up to him as his 
 chief preceptor — his reverence the tutor only being 
 second. Then, again, Jem was an accomplished youth 
 of his kind. In the first place. Nature had not been 
 unkind to him ; he inherited a great share of his father's 
 acuteness, and, for his years, more than his share of his 
 Herculean frame and strength. In fact, he was quite 
 the " cock of the walk " among all the lads of the village 
 in which he had received his learning, and had often 
 amused his young master with accounts of the various 
 battles he had been engaged in, at least those which 
 had ended in victory. 
 
 As may be supposed, all this was not lost on our hero, 
 who listened to such tales with delight ; neither can 
 we marvel at his having done so. He was now in his 
 thirteenth year, and had been reading history with his 
 tutor, as well as listening to his brother when reading 
 it, in portions considered beyond his own reach at the 
 time ; and had paid particular attention to the accounts 
 given of those heroes of antiquity who had signalized 
 themselves in gymnastic exercises, boxers and wrestlers 
 especially. He found that the first kings of the world 
 obtained their dominion by being superior to all others 
 in strength and courage — in fact, that, even in Homer's 
 time, the argumentum haculimim was essential to the 
 existence of all little governments. Leaving out of the 
 question those apocryphal heroes, Hercules, Theseus, 
 Pollux, and others, who were feigned to have been the 
 original inventors of games and combats (considered so 
 admirably calculated for rendering the bodies of youth 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 15 
 
 robust and vigorous, and capable of supporting the 
 severe fatigue of a soldier's life, that they were wisely 
 made to form a part of their religious worship), he had 
 read that the most celebrated characters of their day 
 excelled in the boxing and wrestling arts. Epaminondas, 
 for example, one of the greatest generals and most perfect 
 characters that Greece ever produced, was a patron of, as 
 well as conspicuous in, all such exercises ; and it is gravely 
 stated in history that a knowledge of the art of wrestling 
 gave to the Thebans under his command the battle of 
 Leuctra, and decided the fate of Sparta. Having read 
 of all this, his wonder ceased at finding that master of 
 the wrestling art, Hippomachus, declare that he could 
 discover his scholars at a distance, though they were 
 only carrying meat from the shambles ; or that crowns 
 of olive should have been bestowed by the Eleans on 
 boys of his own age, who had excelled in gymnastic 
 exploits. Nor was the art of boxing exhibited to his 
 young, but aspiring mind, in less glowing colours. He 
 found not only that Milo, one of the athletse of his day, 
 could knock down a bull by a blow of his arm, but, by 
 the example of Dares, that the science of self-defence, as 
 the modern terra is, was not beneath the notice of a 
 prince. So far from it, indeed, that, among the Greek 
 and Roman nobility and gentry, scarcely a day, he found, 
 passed without their practising bodily exercises in the 
 gymnasium — the use of the coestus among the number; 
 and, to his surprise, he learned that even the love of 
 gladiatorial shows amongst the Romans increased as they 
 progressed in civilization, and their manners became more 
 refined ; and that such exhibitions flourished during the 
 reigns of two of their most humane emperors, Trajan and 
 Titus. Then, again, he had listened to his father while 
 discussing the subject with his friends, in reference to 
 the doings of those days when Broughton, Slack, 
 Humphries, Mendoza, Big Ben, and others, all famous 
 men in the ring, were in their zenith. Mr. Raby, 
 however, was no patron of pugilism. His duties as a 
 magistrate forbade it ; still, as conducted in those days, 
 he was rather favourably inclined towards it than other- 
 wise. At all events, he would occasionally deliver his 
 sentiments on the subject somewhat after this manner : — 
 "I am doubtful," he would say, "as to the effect of con- 
 flicts between animals, on the courage of the people ; at 
 
i6 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 the same time that I question whether the extraordinary 
 courage of the game-cock M'as not intended as an example 
 to us. One of the greatest orators of our day thinks it 
 was ; and in defence of the hypothesis, instances the 
 plucJc and bottom of Englishmen, who chiefly encourage 
 these combats, and conduct them after the most scientific 
 manner. Our boxing matches, or prize fights, as they 
 are now called, are contests of the same kind as the 
 fights of the gladiators, only upon a lower scale ; with 
 this diflerence, that no man — unless he chooses — is 
 opposed to unequal force ; and if we could divest the 
 mind of the fact that the contest is not so much for glory 
 as for money, such has been the display of manly 
 intrepidity, firmness, gallantry, activity, presence of mind, 
 and strength, which some of our late prize fights have 
 called forth, that no man need be ashamed of having 
 viewed them with interest. At all events, suppress 
 boxing wholly, and there will be an end to that sense 
 of honour, spirit, and gallantry which distinguishes the 
 common people of this country from those of all others, 
 and they will resort to practices, and the use of weapons 
 in their quarrels, Avhich they now scarcely think of ; and 
 which are cowardly and disgraceful, because they are 
 commonly resorted to in the dark, or when the object 
 of vengeance is off his guard. They would decide their 
 quarrels with knives instead of fists, and the life of no 
 man, in the lower ranks of society, who had given much 
 cause of offence, could be said to be safe. In fact, a 
 great lawyer has pronounced the laws of boxing to be 
 the laws of peace, ' teaching that no unfair advantage 
 shall be taken by either of the combatants, and putting 
 a stop to a malignant mode of procuring satisfaction. 
 They inculcate a love of fair play, and foster the natural 
 courage of our countrymen, whilst they create a disgust 
 in their minds for the treacherous use of the stiletto 
 or knife.' 
 
 " Still," Mr. Eaby would say, "it is not impossible that 
 the system of prize-fighting,' which Broughton calls ' a 
 truly British art,' may become the reproach, rather than 
 the characteristic of our countrymen. The persons who 
 take up the profession of public prize-fighters are of 
 nearly the lowest grade in society, and are too often 
 unable to resist a bribe to induce them to do wrong — that 
 is, to sell their battles for money — although there are, and 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 17 
 
 have been, many honourable exceptions. They partake 
 indeed," he would say, "of some of the obloquy that 
 attached to the Roman gladiators, humorously set forth 
 in a Greek epigram on a bad tenant, from the pen of 
 Palladus, which has been thus translated :— 
 
 'I let my house, the other day, 
 To one who dealt in corn and hay : 
 Next morning I found, ah ! woe is me, 
 A dreadful pugilist is he. 
 When will you pay my rent ? quoth I ; 
 He lifts his fist and cocks his eye. 
 I then to Pollux made my vow. 
 Although on peace my thoughts were now, 
 That I, before next quarter day, 
 Might learn to box, or run away.'" 
 
 It was not to be expected that much science in the art 
 of self-defence was to found in a gamekeeper's lad ; still 
 many " turns-up " with those who were bigger and older 
 than himself had imparted to Jem Perren a tolerable 
 notion of taking some care of himself ; and he boasted of 
 no less than three favourite stops, and likewise of one very 
 telling blow. These were, of course, imparted to our 
 hero, who M'ould often be seen taking lessons from his 
 green-jacketed preceptor ; and truly he was soon a pro- 
 ficient. He could not only hit very hard, in which his 
 weight told to his advantage, but he could stop, and get 
 away, in a manner surprising for his age. Hence arose 
 one of the disadvantages of a slight knowledge of the 
 pugilistic art, combined with the power and inclination 
 to put it into practice. It created in Frank Raby a 
 domineering spirit, which, notwithstanding his good 
 sense, and many excellent qualities, adhered to him, in 
 some measure, through life. Although his brother was 
 his senior by nearly two years, he treated him as his 
 junior, and, by the weight of his fist, established his claim 
 of j^recedence. Xo boys in the neighbouring villages 
 dared to cross his path in his pursuits, provided they 
 were near his own age, for his name was up. On one 
 occasion, however, he signalized himself beyond the ex- 
 pectation of his admiring friends ; and, from his extreme 
 good nature, and kind disposition towards the necessitous 
 poor, he had many such in the neighbourhood in which 
 he was known. Passing through a village, in one of his 
 roving walks, he espied one of those half-baked, half- 
 
i3 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 nursed ragamuffins, a specimen of whom about one parish 
 in every six affords, unmercifully beating a defenceless 
 orphan not much more than half his own size. The 
 chivalrous spirit of our hero would not brook this ; so, 
 throwing down his hat, he gave him '' a chattering facer," 
 the term, as his preceptor Jem informed him, for a heavy 
 thump on the mouth, and instantly put himself " into 
 attitude." Eagamuffin did the same, when a smart round 
 ensued, rather in his favour ; but the young one was no- 
 wise daunted. The old blood of the Rabys warmed in 
 his young veins at every blow, and he said to himself, 
 " I'll lick this snob, or die." Presently the whole village 
 became alarmed for the safety of Master Francis. Out 
 ran the apothecary from his house, and the mother of one 
 of the Amstead housemaids from hers, both insisting on 
 some of the lookers-on interfering, and j)utting an end to 
 the fight. It happened, however, that the coachman had 
 walked down to the village with his young master, and 
 he stoutly asserted that Master Francis was "all right. 
 He'll leather two such chaps as that," said coachey, " and 
 I'll go and see fair play." The result was thus : — In the 
 fifth round, the young one hit his opponent such a smasher 
 in his teeth, that he turned cur and ran off, amidst the 
 hootings of all present ; thus verifying the maxim, that 
 "thrice is he armed who hath his quarrel just." Even 
 the magpie in the cage chattered, as if exulting to see 
 justice so summarily olDtained for a poor orphan lad. 
 
 " Come into my house. Master Francis," said the doctor, 
 "that I may see what injury you have sustained. Here 
 is a blow over the left eye to begin with, and it will be 
 black in a few hours ; what will your mamma say 1 " 
 "Oh!" said the coachman, "he can tell my lady that 
 Rodney (the pony) threw up his head, and struck him on 
 the face ; she won't know no better." " But your thumb. 
 Master Francis, you have cut it rather deep, by a blow 
 against one of the young rascal's teeth," resumed the 
 doctor. " Oh ! " observed coachey, " that will be soon 
 settled ; he can tell my lady he took a shot at a rook out 
 of Jem Perren's gun, and that it was too high loaded, and 
 hit him a hard blow on his hand. Besides, from what I 
 know of my lady, dash me if I don't think she'd like 
 to know how young master served out that cowardly 
 scoundrel, for she once stopped the carriage on purpose 
 to give the poor orphan he had been beating a shilling, 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 19 
 
 and she has twice had him clothed. You know, doctor, 
 his father worked in her flower-garden." " But the tutor, 
 Master Francis ? " continued Esculapius. " Oh, bother 
 the tutor ! " replied the coachman ; " they tells me he 
 is a great scholard, but he's as soft as a pat of butter ; 
 Master Francis can soon gammon him-, as he has often 
 done before. And as to master, I know what he will 
 say : ' Never let a horse hit you in your face with his 
 head, Frank ; it is a symptom of bad horsemanship. 
 When a horse plunges, or rears, always keep your head 
 and person a little inclined to the left side of him, and 
 then, should he lose his balance, and fall backward, you 
 slip off before he comes to the ground.' I heard him say 
 those very words to Master Raby the other day." Here 
 the coachman and his young master took their departure 
 homeward, the former repeating his lesson, and assuring 
 Frank, at the same time, that if he would come into the 
 servants' hall before he went to bed, he would clap a raw 
 beef-steak to his face, as the fighting-men do, which would 
 take out all the blackness by the morrow. 
 
 The hour of dessert having arrived, in walked Master 
 Francis with his brother and two sisters, looking as 
 demure as a saint. " "What have you done to your face, 
 my dear ? " inquired Lady Charlotte ; " it is much swollen 
 above your left eye." " Rodney threw up his head 
 with me this morning, mamma, and struck me in the 
 face," was his rejDly. " Oh, Frank I " said Mr. Raby, 
 "how could you let him do that? A good horseman 
 never suffers from such an accident. Should his horse 
 begin to play tricks, he always keeps his own head 
 inclined towards the left, and then he cannot be struck 
 as you have been. I have known instances of persons 
 having nearly every tooth knocked out by blows from 
 horses' heads." Frank said nothing, but refused to eat an 
 orange, until twice asked to do so. As he was peeling it, 
 the wound on his hand appeared. "Why, Frank," ex- 
 claimed Lady Charlotte, " you have been in perils to-day ; 
 did Rodney throw you ? " " No, mamma," he replied, " I 
 was taking a shot at a rook out of Jem's gun, and it was 
 loaded so high that it struck me on my hand. But it will 
 soon be well, and coachman says if I come to him before 
 I go to bed to-night, he will do for me what the boxers 
 do — clap a raw beef-steak under my night-cap, and I 
 shall have no black eye to-morrow."" " Nasty fellow ! " 
 
20 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 exclaimed Lady Charlotte ; " I insist upon it, lie does no 
 such thing. What could put it into the man's head to 
 doctor my children 1 " Frank was again silent, when he 
 was at length addressed by the tutor, in rather a grave 
 tone. " If you had remained at home this morning, 
 Frank, and done what I wished you — translated that 
 chapter in Aurelius, Be viris illustribus, and finished your 
 exercise on the battle of Pharsalia, you would not have 
 met with these disasters, but would have been able to have 
 taken the field with the harriers to-morrow, whereas you 
 will now be obliged to remain at home, as I fear not even 
 the raw beef-steak would have prevented your having a 
 black eye, in which case you could not, of course, appear 
 abroad." At the mention of the word battle, the blood 
 rushed to Frank's face, conceiving that the "murder was 
 out ; " but such was not the case. Contrary to expecta- 
 tion, the doctor did not blah, and the event of the fight 
 never reached beyond the walls of the servants' hall of 
 the Abbey, although it was widely spread among the 
 surrounding villagers, who were loud in their praises of 
 the young Dares. 
 
 Mr. Egerton, the tutor, was one of those old-fashioned 
 clergymen of the Church of England, once so highly 
 looked up to by the people, but now supplanted, in too 
 many instances, by a new-fashioned sort, who, by preach- 
 ing for an hour or more on subjects which their hearers 
 do not understand, and too often creating doubts which 
 they cannot themselves remove, drive thousands from 
 their churches to seek for instruction elsewhere. 
 
 He was old-fashioned enough to consider the true philo- 
 sophy of life, as well as the duty of his profession, to 
 consist in endeavouring to assuage the evils of human 
 nature by any means, provided they war not against the 
 soul. Fanaticism, with its long train of gloomy terrors, 
 he left to those who practised it, and was inclined even 
 to think, with Lord Shaftesbury, that gravity is too often 
 but another word for imposture. He considered that we 
 are entitled to enjoy the good things of this life when 
 honestly procured, and that it were the height of in- 
 gratitude not to taste with satisfaction the liberal bounty 
 of Providence. All he insisted upon was — that when our 
 wishes are gratified, and the cup of fortune full, we 
 should not drink it to the dregs. 
 
 Having said this, it is almost needless to add, that Mr. 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 21 
 
 Egerton entered fully into the pleasures and amusements 
 of Amstead Abljey, to the society of which, by his many 
 agreeable accomplishments, he was no small acquisition. 
 Tliere was, however, one species of amusement in which 
 he did not often participate ; he rarely hunted, not that 
 he thought it unbecoming his clerical situation, but be- 
 cause he was so bad a horseman that he feared he might 
 break his neck. Neither was he ever seen with a gun in 
 his hand, the reason for which was a ludicrous one. On 
 being asked by a visitor to Mr. Raby, why he did not 
 join "the sliooting party of that morning, lie accounted 
 for it in the following words : — " I was once,'"' said he, 
 " inclined to the sport of the gun, but a circumstance 
 that had nearly been attended with consequences which 
 would have rendered me miserable for life, determined 
 me to abandon it. My sight is imperfect ; that is to say, 
 I am, what is called, near-sighted ; and being once in a 
 wood with my gun, I espied what I took to be a fine full- 
 grown black rabbit, under a furze-bush. I fired at, and, 
 thank God, missed it, for it proved to be the head of the 
 most intimate friend of my youth, who had laid himself 
 at full length on the ground, to enable him to get a shot 
 at a hare. The shock to my nerves was so great, that, to 
 this day, the report of a gun brings instantly to my mind 
 the head of my friend under the furze-bush." 
 
 Although no sportsman, as far as horses and guns were 
 concerned, Mr. Egerton had other ways of amusing him- 
 self abroad. He was an excellent fisherman, considering 
 the disciple of the angle, probably, as pursuing an aposto- 
 lical recreation, which, I believe, Izaak Walton did before 
 him. He was, also, a musician, playing beautifully on 
 the violoncello and the flute. But his summum bonurn, 
 in the way of indoor amusement, was a rubber at whist, 
 at which he was truly a trump. In fact, whoever got the 
 parson for a partner, considered him worth one point in 
 the game, and half a crown would now and then be ven- 
 tured on the rubber, on the strength of his fine play. But, 
 notwithstanding these recreations, in which Mr. Egerton 
 freely indulged himself, at proper times and seasons, no man 
 could have performed his twofold duties more sedulously 
 than he discharged his. In the preparation of his two 
 pupils for Eton, he succeeded eminently, and in his 
 calling, as curate of the parish, he gave universal satis- 
 faction both in and out of church. 
 
22 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 The first great step in tlie life of our " Sportsmau : " lie is entered 
 to hare. — The Chapter concludes with many choice Aphorisms 
 concerning the Xoble Science, and sundry anecdotes, worthy 
 being recorded in letters of gold. 
 
 '• T\7'B^^'^ ^^ ^^ ^^ done to-morrow," said Mr. Egerton 
 T T to his pupils in the evening, '' as Lady Charlotte 
 has asked for a holiday ?" -'/ shalfAiai^,'' exclaimed our 
 hero, his eyes brightening with delight ; and he was out 
 of the room, to give orders for Rodney to have no water 
 in the morning, before his brother had returned an 
 answer to the question. " I shall walk to the rectory," 
 said Andrew ; '• I promised the Miss Chapmans I would 
 bring them the books my uncle sent me last week from 
 London, and they are very anxious to read them." 
 " There is no disputing about tastes," observed the tutor, 
 addressing our young sportsman, on his return to the 
 drawing-room, and hinting that he should not let Rodney 
 give him another black eye, as nothing had so ungentle- 
 manlike an appearance. " Besides," continued he, " it 
 savours of awkward horsemanship, in which, as you seem 
 bent on being a fox-hunter, some day or another, you 
 ought to endeavour to excel. Indeed, all gentlemen 
 should ride well ; and you will remember my telling you 
 that, in the letters of Lord Chesterfield to his son, and of 
 Lord Chatham to his nephew, it is insisted upon, as part 
 of their education, to enable them to make a good appear- 
 ance in the world, as Horace had insisted before them, in 
 his advice to youth. You also remember my drawing 
 your notice to several passages in history, in which the 
 accomplishment of riding well is either pointed out, or 
 boasted of, by still greater men. Hannibal, for example, 
 is said to have differed in nothing in his appearance from 
 the ordinary men of his day, unless in the peculiar 
 neatness and elegance of his horses and their furniture, 
 and likewise his seat in the saddle ; and it was only 
 yesterday that your brother was reading of Cicero, who, 
 addressing his son Marcus, told him that, as the eyes of 
 the world would be upon him, on account of his fathers 
 fame, he was delighted to hear that he had received the 
 praise of all the army for his excellence in riding." 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 23 
 
 " I hunt with you to-morrow, papa," said Frank to his 
 father, as soon as he had made his escape from what he 
 called " Egerton's botheration about Hannibal and Cicero." 
 " I hope we shall find as good a buck hare as that which 
 Mr. Gibbon's shepherd soho'd for us the last time we met 
 at the same place." " Frank," said Mr. Kaby, " I must 
 now be your tutor, and, in this instance, can do more for 
 you than Mr. Egerton. You have made use of two terras 
 not used in hare-hunting, and it becomes every person to 
 adapt their language to their subject. A male hare, in 
 hunting, is called a jack hare ; and the word tan-ta-ra, 
 not soho, denotes one espied in its form. The terms you 
 have applied are peculiar to coursing." 
 
 About a mile from the place of meeting Frank over- 
 takes the hounds, and the following interesting colloquy 
 occurs : — 
 
 Huntsman (touching his cap). — "Good morning, Master 
 Francis ; glad to see you out, sir. Eodney looks in high 
 feather ; you'll beat us all to-day." 
 
 Frank. — " No, Dick ; there is no beating you on old 
 Clodhopper, with his ugly lop ears. How you set them 
 all the last time, over the Barnsly brook ! " 
 
 Dick (smiling). — " Well, sir ; but you saw a good deal 
 of the run ; now can you give us any account of it ? for 
 I sadly want to make yoic a sportsman. As for Master 
 Kaby, it's no use thinking of him : he's so terribly fond 
 of books, flowers, pictures, and such-like trumpery, that 
 he takes no delight in field sports. Then, again, that 
 tutor does him no good, making him believe he is to be 
 a great scholard and a parliament man at last. For my 
 part, I don't like those parliament gentlemen. I lived 
 with one once ; and just as the best part of the hunting 
 began — about a month after Christmas, when we had 
 such large fields that I sometimes got a hat full of half- 
 crowns after a good run — away went he to parliament, 
 and away went half my field as well." 
 
 Frank. — " I had rather be a master of foxhounds, than 
 member for the county, Dick — would not you? And, 
 Dick, why does not papa keep foxhounds instead of these 
 harriers ? They tell me that six more horses, and a few 
 more couples of hounds than he now has, would do ; 
 and I am sure you could hunt fox as well as you do 
 hare." 
 
 Dick. — "Your papa will never keep foxhounds, sir. 
 
24 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 He is the best master of harriers this day in England, 
 but don't take delight in fox-hunting. Then, again, sir, 
 5^ou are wrong about thinking I could hunt fox as well 
 as I do hare. When you turns fox-hunter, which no 
 doubt you will do when you gets to the University, 
 you'll see there is a great difference in the systems pursued 
 with foxhounds and harriers ; and that which is good 
 in one, is bad in another, although not to the extent that 
 some people thinks. I happened to overhear one of our 
 gentlemen telling how Dick Knight lost his fox the other 
 day with the Pytchley hounds — ' at least,' said he, ' so 
 thought Mr. Alcock.' 'Mr. Alcock,' said one of them, 
 ' what does that old thistle-whiijper know about hunting ? ' 
 Now that is going too far ; for, in my opinion, an old 
 thistle-whipper must know a great deal more of hunting 
 than a young fox-hunter is likely to do. But, Master 
 Francis, can you give me any account of the last run you 
 saw, in which there was a good deal to notice ? " 
 
 Frank. — " Why, you know, Dick, I was behind a bit at 
 starting, because I could not go fast enough the first ten 
 minutes ; but I said to myself, I shouldn't wonder if they 
 come to a check at that large flock of sheep on the turnips, 
 which they did, and I then got up to you. But I think 
 I should have been with you all the way had it not been 
 for that nasty oak stile, which my father would not let 
 me ride at, and took me out of the line to a gate. I am 
 certain Rodney would have cleared it, for I rode him 
 over a higher than that, one day, after you, on Carpenter, 
 when papa was not out — but I was deuced nearly oflF, 
 Dick." 
 
 Dick. — " Don't ride at timber. Master Francis — you are 
 too young for that yet ; and, if you get a squeezer at it, 
 it may daunt you. I have had some terrible falls over 
 timber, and was twice picked up for dead." 
 
 Frank. — " But about the run ! I saw how you hit off 
 vour hare, when the hounds were checked by the sheep. 
 You stood stock-still whilst the hounds made their cast ; 
 but finding that neither Bellman, Bounty, nor Tyrant 
 gave tongue, and that some of the others had their noses 
 off the ground, you gave a blast with your horn, made 
 something like a circle in a trot, when old Bounty hit off 
 the scent, and we went on." 
 
 Dick.— ''It was Bellman, Master Francis; but the 
 brother and sister are so alike, that I scarcely know one 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 25 
 
 from t'other myself. That is not a bad hit of yours, 
 however, sir. Youll do in time." 
 
 Frank. — "But, Dick, what a head they carried over 
 Groseby field. As the leaps were not too much for 
 Rodney, I was pretty near you — was I not, Will ? (ad- 
 dressing himself to the whipper-in). And I saw that 
 young bitch. Melody, that papa is so fond of, guiding 
 the scent for at least half a mile. He declares he would 
 not take ten pounds for her." 
 
 Dick. — " I would not take half that sum for her myself, 
 sir. She is by the old Duke of Grafton's Tyrant, out of 
 our old Melody, and has all the good qualities of a fox- 
 hound with those of the harrier. But, Master Francis, 
 who told you about a hound ' guiding the scent ? ' It's a 
 monstrous good notion, but we always say 'guiding the 
 'pack.^ " 
 
 Frank. — "It is what Mr. Egerton calls 'a figure of 
 speech,' Dick." 
 
 Dick. — " Ah ! sir, see what it is not to have had a 
 larning ! I shall never talk again about a hound guiding 
 the pack, as I am all for a bit of novelty in my trade 
 when I can get it. And I see no reason why hare-hunting 
 should remain where my grandfather left it, when, as 
 Squire Talbot says, the hares never went out of their OM-n 
 parishes." 
 
 Frank. — " Mr. Egerton says there has been a great deal 
 written about hunting hares, which I shall know when 
 I come to read Greek. One Xenophon, he says, wrote 
 about it more than 2000 years ago; and another Greek 
 writer, called Homer, compared hounds running a hare 
 through thick woods, to two great warriors pursuing an 
 enemy by night." 
 
 Dick.—'' I don't doubt it, sir. That Mr. Egerton is a 
 clever gentleman ; I wish he would come a-hunting, as, 
 perhaps, he might write something about it, for I don't 
 know of anyone having done so since the two gentlemen 
 you have just mentioned, and it is but few that could read 
 what they have said." 
 
 Our hero was on the point of joining with the huntsman 
 in the wish that his tutor would take the field, when Mr. 
 Raby and the rest of the party came up, and orders were 
 given to draw for a hare, in a fallow adjoining the road, 
 which having been long ploughed, was considered likely 
 to produce one. It did so; a brilliant burst was the 
 
26 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 result ; and, at the end of thirty-two minutes, Dick had 
 her in his hand, as stiff as if she had been six years in a 
 museum. Another run followed, in which some fine 
 hunting was displayed ; and Mr, Eaby and his friends 
 returned to the Abbey, well satisfied with their sport, 
 and with a good appetite for their dinner. 
 
 During the interval between the two runs, which was 
 not a very short one — for hares were not abundant in 
 those days — Frank was seen in earnest conversation with 
 a well-mounted gentleman, a stranger to Mr. Kaby and 
 his friends, who attracted everyone's notice by the masterly 
 manner in which he rode, and the attention he paid to 
 the hunting of this celebrated pack of harriers. " I have 
 hunted in all our best counties," said he to his friend, 
 and this in the hearing of our young sportsman, "and 
 chiefly in the crack county of all — in Leicestershire ; but 
 I never saw more beautiful hunting than these hounds 
 have this day shown. I have not only admired them 
 when in difficulties, in which I must say they were ably 
 assisted by their huntsman, but the head they carried in 
 chase surprised me ; surely Mr. Eaby must breed a great 
 number of hounds, to be able to top and tail them to their 
 present perfection ; for there does not appear to be half 
 an inch of difference in their height, not more than a 
 yard or two in speed. Then what beautifully formed 
 animals they are, and how light yet musical are their 
 tongues : in fact, how unlike the heavy, throaty, long- 
 eared, bow-wowing brutes that I have seen in other 
 countries. I really think that if I lived near them, — 
 devoted as I have been all my life to foxhounds, and 
 prone to despise harriers, — I should hunt with them at 
 least once a week." 
 
 These were honeyed words to the ears of Frank Raby, 
 who repeated them with much delight to his father on 
 their road home ; and it was also in his power to inform 
 him where this lion, in his eyes, was domiciled, which 
 happened to be at the mansion of an intimate, but non- 
 hunting friend. " Ah ! " said Mr. Raby, on the last-named 
 circumstance being made known to him, "then we shall 
 see him at the Abbey on Saturday, if he remains so long 
 on his visit to Sir William, as the baronet and his party 
 dine with us on that day." " Oh ! papa," observed Frank, 
 " how glad I am to know that ! we shall hear all about 
 Leicestershire hunting, which is the best in all the world. 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 27 
 
 I believe ; but will you promise not to begin upon it with 
 him until we come in to dessert?" Mr. Raby smiled, 
 and said nothing ; but doubtless his heart responded to 
 the call of his favourite son. 
 
 One of the leading characteristics of a young sportsman 
 is the pursuit of all animals which come under the de- 
 nomination of vermin ; and, indeed, for the preservation 
 of game, poultry, and many other things, the destruction 
 of them, as of many of the feathered race, is necessary. 
 There is, however, one animal included in this list, which, 
 as far as the evils of his ways are taken into account, is 
 entitled to an exemption, for they are few, if any. Thi& 
 animal is the badger, neither a depredator nor a thief ; 
 but subsisting chiefly on pig nuts, beech mast, and roots ; 
 in fact, on anything that pigs eat in the woods ; and, 
 moreover, of service to the sportsman, by drawing earths 
 for foxes, although he sometimes, by making tliem too 
 strong, increases the expense of stopping. The badger, 
 however, possesses two very extraordinary properties — 
 the prodigious strength of his nose in burrowing, and the 
 ferocity with which he defends himself when attacked by 
 dogs. Drawing badgers from their burrows is one test 
 of courage, or pluck, in terriers, and dogs of that descrip- 
 tion, for which purpose many are kept, to the discredit of 
 those who keep them. 
 
 "What have you been doing to-day, Francis ?" inquired 
 Mr. Egerton, on the morrow after the hare hunt. " I 
 saw you coming to the house with Jem Perren, who was 
 carrying something in a bag." "We had been drawing 
 a badger, sir, in the big wood, and you would have been 
 pleased to see how well Pickle and Vixen behaved." 
 " Indeed," replied Mr. Egerton, " I should not. It would 
 have afforded me no pleasure to have seen animals tor- 
 menting each other for your pleasure, and merely that 
 you might get possession of a worthless, |though harmless 
 creature." "Not worthless, sir," resumed Frank; "we 
 mean to have a burrow made for him to enter the young 
 terriers at him, for Jem Perren thinks those out of Trinket 
 are not thorough-bred by the father's side." "Indeed, 
 Francis," exclaimed the tutor, " you shall do no such 
 thing ; at least with my knowledge. You have signalized 
 yourself, in your own estimation, by having drawn a wild 
 badger from his burrow, which, no doubt, you think much 
 of ; but let once doing so suflice. I shall walk with you 
 
28 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 to-morrow to the big wood, and see 'you replace the poor 
 animal in his burrow." 
 
 In the hilarity of youthful spirits, this interference 
 had no further effect on our young sportsman than to 
 damp his ardour, for the moment, in a pursuit in which 
 he had just commenced with such success, and he walked 
 away with a somewhat sullen stej), to communicate the sad 
 tidings to Jem Perren, " Bless me," said Jem ; " I wish 
 that parson was in the ftlace he talks so much about in 
 church ; he'll be the ruin of you. Master Francis. I 
 heard my father say, the other day, that he scolded him 
 for shooting jays, although the gardener says they play 
 the deuce with the raspberries and cherries, and you know 
 my father wants the feathers for fly-fishing." "Ay," 
 resumed Frank; "but never mind, Jem; we go to 
 Eton after mid-summer, and then we shall get rid of 
 his botheration, and shall be our own masters in the 
 holidays." 
 
 Saturday arrived : and the family at the Grange came 
 to the Abbey to dinner, and, with them, the " lion " out 
 of Leicestershire, whose name was Somerby, from whose 
 conversation with his father Frank Raby anticipated a 
 great treat. Neither was it anything short of a treat to the 
 father himself, to contribute to the delight of his favourite 
 son, and, according to promise, he waited his coming to 
 dessert before the subject of hunting in Leicestershire 
 commenced. We will give it in detail. 
 
 Mr. Raby. — "Were I a fox-hunter, Mr. Somerby, I 
 should envy you who make Leicestershire your domicile." 
 
 Mr. Somerby. — " It is, without doubt, the county of all 
 others in which a man mav get the most hunting." 
 
 Mr. Rahy.— ''And the best." 
 
 Mr. Somerby. — " That depends on circumstances. It is 
 a mistaken notion that a good country alone can make 
 good hounds, or that Leicestershire has that peculiar 
 privilege." 
 
 Mr. Raby. — " I always thought that Leicestershire was 
 a county in which hounds had less difficulty to encounter 
 than in any other ; and that with a good scent, you are 
 almost sure to have sport, even if you do not kill your 
 fox. By the term ' Leicestershire,' I mean the whole 
 extent of country within reach of Melton Mowbray." 
 
 Mr. Somerby.— ''Yon have been misinformed on these 
 subjects, Mr. Raby. It is true there are extensive tracts 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 29 
 
 in the counties of Leicester, Rutland, and Northampton, 
 extremely favourable to hounds, from the great prevalence 
 of land which has been under grass beyond the memory 
 of man ; as, likewise, from the prevalence of large en- 
 closures, which often contain forty acres, and occasionally 
 double that number ; but here exists one difficulty. Head- 
 lands and hedgerows are good friends to huntsmen when 
 their hounds are off the scent : indeed, they may be said 
 then to act as guide-posts ; but let hounds throw up in the 
 middle of a fifty-acre piece, and require their huntsman to 
 direct them, the guide-post is not so readily at his hand 
 as in counties where the enclosures are much smaller. 
 Should he fail to find the chase on one side of his 
 ground, having, of course, ascertained that it is not on 
 ahead, he has a long way to travel for it to the other, 
 whilst his fox is taking advantage of the delay, and 
 making the best of his road to his point. Then, again, 
 another circumstance operates against hounds in these 
 champaign counties, which is peculiar to them. From 
 the luxuriance of the herbage in summer, enough remains 
 in winter to maintain store stock ; and herds of cattle and 
 flocks of sheep abound in them. Scarcely a run is seen in 
 which hounds are not brought to check, from encountering 
 one or other of those obstacles ; and, although not gener- 
 ally so considered, the stain from cattle is worse than that 
 from sheep. Cattle are also more perplexing on another 
 account ; sheep will stand still and confront hounds ; but 
 cattle will keep going on, to the great disturbance of 
 hounds in their work, and often on the very line of scent. 
 Then, again, there is much variety of stcqjle in the land of 
 the counties in which we are now speaking. It is fre- 
 quently our lot to commence a run in a fine champaign 
 grazing country, extremely favourable to hounds — and to 
 finish it over cold ploughed land, incapable of holding a 
 scent beyond a j^assing moment — this, too, at a time when 
 every advantage is required. We have likewise, occasion- 
 ally, a great many horsemen in the field, some of whom 
 think more of riding than of hunting, and press on 
 hounds at the most difficult points of the chase." 
 
 Mr. Rahy. — " But Sir William informs me you have 
 had a capital season's sport up to this period." 
 
 Mr. Somerhy. — " Why, Mr. Raby, notwithstanding these 
 difficulties, no country under the sun shows such fine 
 runs as that called Leicestershire does ; nor such exquisite 
 
30 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 enjovment of tliem, from the peculiar nature and disposition 
 of it. Indeed, a friend of mine says that the very act of 
 riding to cover over Leicestershire, on a hunter, is nearly 
 equal to following hounds in a run over a great many of 
 the provincial countries. But that I should have had a 
 good season's sjDort up to this period, and especially as the 
 weather has been so favourable to it, is not in the least to 
 be wondered at, when I say that I have generally hunted 
 with the hounds of the first sportsman that England has 
 hitherto seen.'' 
 
 Mr. Baby. — " Of course you mean Mr. Meynell, who 
 hunts what is called the Quorndon, or Quorn country, 
 whom I have heard so much of, but never had the 
 pleasure of seeing. Perhaps you will favour me with a 
 description of his person and character, which, as I 
 understand you have long enjoyed his friendship and 
 confidence, you must be well qualified to do ; but, in the 
 mean time, if you please, we will drink ' Success to fox- 
 hunting,' in a bumper. Although no fox-hunter myself, 
 I heartily wish it success. It is a manly, fine exercise, 
 affording health to the body, and much matter for a 
 contemplative mind. In few situations of life, indeed, 
 are the faculties of man more prominently displayed. 
 Fortitude, good sense, and collectiveness of mind, have in 
 it a wide field of action, and a sensible sportsman would 
 be a respectable character in any grade of life." 
 
 Mr. Sovierhy. — " You have not over-rated the good pro- 
 perties of fox-hunting, and allow me to add to your 
 panegyric upon it. In the first place, where will you 
 find better society than by a cover-side in Leicestershire, 
 and numerous other counties ? In the next, it links all 
 classes together, from the peer to the peasant. Then, 
 again, it is the Englishman's peculiar privilege. It is not to 
 be found in any other part of the globe, but in England's 
 true land of liberty — and may it flourish to the end of 
 time I ' Suc/:ess to fox-hunting,' 1 say, with all my heart, 
 and will now comply with your request : — 
 
 "Mr. Meynell is of the middle height, of a compact 
 and well-proportioned form ; with a highly expressive 
 countenance, and a very intellectual eye. His manners 
 and general deportment are those of a man of the highest 
 fashion, and he combines zeal with talent, which would 
 render him distinguished in any pursuit that might be 
 congenial to his inclination and taste. Fortunately for 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 31 
 
 fox-hunting, he made that his election, and although I 
 hope he has not vet seen half his days, he has done more 
 for the improvement of the science of the chase than any 
 other man. In fact, his opinions have already become 
 maxims, amongst which are the following : — 
 
 'Hounds,' he says, 'should combine strength with 
 beauty, and steadiness with high mettle. 
 
 ' Perfection of shape consists in short backs, open 
 bosoms, straight legs, and compact feet. 
 
 ' The first qualities of hounds are fine noses, docile 
 tempers, steadiness to their game, and stoutness in 
 chase. 
 
 ' If flagrant propensities discover themselves in a young 
 hound, hang him at once. 
 
 ' Walk your hounds amongst riot {i.e. hares and deer) 
 in the summer, and hunt in woodlands, in which foxes 
 are plenty, at least two months before the regular season 
 begins. 
 
 ' Perfection in hounds in chase lies in their hard run- 
 ning with a good scent, and patient hunting with a bad 
 one, together with invincible stoutness, when called for. 
 
 ' The greatest faults are skirting, over-running the 
 scent, and babbling. Never breed from a hound that 
 quits the line in chase, however good in all other respects. 
 The fault will surely descend to his or her produce. 
 
 ' Do not lift your hounds when they are at fault, until 
 you are satisfied that they require it ; but encourage them 
 to take pains ; and keep your field aloof, so that the 
 steam from the horses may not destroy the scent. Let 
 them be cast in two lots — the head whipper-in taking 
 hold of one, and the huntsman of the other. 
 
 ' When a fox breaks cover, avoid too much hallooing ; 
 it makes hounds wild, and often mars sport. 
 
 ' The more quietly whippers-in turn hounds, the better ; 
 if they are too free with their rating and their whips, 
 hounds will not turn as short as they should do, from 
 fear of the lash. 
 
 ' When hounds are going to cry, let them be en- 
 couraged, not driven to do so, if it can be avoided. If 
 a hound will not go readily to cry, he had better be 
 drafted at once. It is essential to sport that hounds 
 should get quickly to cry, or a good head cannot be carried 
 by them in the burst, which renders it imperfect, not- 
 withstanding the pace may be good. 
 
32 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 ' If a fox hangs long in cover, leave him, rather than mob 
 him to death. He may have a reason for doing so, which 
 he will sooner die for, than forego ; and he may show 
 good sport at another time. 
 
 'Do not think too much about killing foxes, or of 
 " blood" as the term is. The wildest packs of hounds have 
 been known to kill the most foxes, by skirting and meeting 
 them in covers ; whilst they have seldom killed a really 
 good fox in a straightforward run. Murdering foxes 
 in covers is an absurd practice. Seasoned foxes are as 
 essential to sport as seasoned hounds. 
 
 ' When once you have established a pack of foxhounds, 
 — ivhich it requires ten years to do, — be cautious of admitting 
 strangers from other packs amongst them during the season. 
 Hounds should be well acquainted with each other, for 
 they look to each other in dithculties, beyond what may 
 generally be imagined. Hounds are jealous to a degree ; 
 and many, naturally steady, will be induced to run riot 
 by one bad example, especially if exhibited by a stranger. 
 In short, one faulty hound, as well as one injudicious- 
 rider, may defeat the most promising prospect of sport.' 
 
 "Mr. Meynell," continued Mr. Somerby, "is eminently 
 qualified to be at the head of such a country as the Quorn, 
 by the command he has acquired over his field, owing to- 
 the respect paid to his character as a sportsman. He is- 
 often heard to address them thus : — 
 
 ' Nothing gives me more pleasure, gentlemen, than 
 seeing my hounds afford you good sport ; and nothing 
 more pain, than your marring it by over-riding them. 
 That, generally, proceeds from jealousy, which true 
 sportsmen should be superior to ; for if you are near 
 enough to see hounds do their work, you ought to be- 
 satisfied with your place, and care not who goes first. 
 Again, you should keep your eye on the body of the 
 hounds, instead of depending on two or three which are 
 leading ; and you should always anticipate a check, which 
 sheep, cattle, teams at plough, arable land, or a road, are 
 all likely to produce. Kemember that every check gives- 
 your fox an advantage over hounds, and that scent is of a 
 fleeting nature, soon lost — never again to be recovered.' 
 
 "Mr. Meynell is a bold and superior horseman. In 
 fact, no practicable fence will stop him, when his hounda 
 are running ; but he takes no unnecessary liberties with 
 his horses. His language to his hounds is at once emphaticJ 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 33 
 
 and distinct, as well as cheerful and musical in the ex- 
 treme. His scream, or view-halloo, is, indeed, wonderful, 
 thrilling through the heart and nerves of all who are 
 within hearing of it. He is as great a favourite with the 
 farmers, as he is popular among his equals ; and he has 
 secured the esteem of the former by the following praise- 
 worthy conduct : — Although he is very punctual to his 
 time of throwing off, and would not wait more than ten 
 minutes for a duke, he will wait twenty for some graziers, 
 whose horses he sees at the cover's-side, when he knows 
 there is a cattle-fair in the neighbourhood, at which their 
 presence is required. He here shows that acuteness and 
 right judgment which are conspicuous throughout his 
 entire character, and have led to the eminence he has 
 attained, as the master of a pack of foxhounds in the 
 finest country in England." 
 
 3Ir. Baby. — " I am delighted with your description of this 
 fine sportsman ; will you favour me with some account of 
 his establishment 1 " — a question suggested by Frank, who 
 whispered in his father's ear that he should like to know 
 the name of Mr. Meynell's huntsman. 
 
 Mr. Somerby. — "With the greatest pleasure. I shall 
 not feel weary of recapitulating scenes and circumstances 
 which have ;been, and I hope will continue to be, the 
 source of the chief pleasure of my life. Mr. Meynell has 
 two packs of hounds ; one called the young, and the other 
 the old pack ; the latter consisting of hounds of three 
 years old and upM^ards, none of two years old being 
 admitted into it, unless a very high ojDinion be enter- 
 tained of their steadiness and abilities. The young pack 
 are hunted twice a week, in woodlands as much as possible, 
 and in the least popular covers, having a few steady old 
 hounds to assist them ; and it is to the old pack that the 
 best parts of the county are assigned, in which they meet 
 four da}'S in the week, when the weather permits. 
 
 " The name of Mr. Meynell's huntsman is John Eaven, 
 a man of good j)arts, and of peculiarly sportsmanlike 
 appearance. He has the eye of a hawk, the voice of a 
 stentor, is a good sportsman, and not to be excelled in 
 horsemanship. (At these words Frank's eye glistened, 
 and he was heard to heave a sigh — as much as to say, 
 How I should like to see that man !) His two whippers- 
 in are equally effective with himself; but, strange to 
 say, one of them (Jones) has but one leg, having suffered 
 
 3 
 
34 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 amputation for a white swelling, and the loss is supplied 
 by cork." 
 
 Mr. Raby.—^'' What a game man must Jones be ! I 
 have often wondered, Mr. Somerby, that Mr. Meynell 
 should reside at Quorndon Hall, as I see, by the map, 
 that it is situated quite at the outside of the most open 
 and best part of the county. I conclude, however, that it 
 is, as a residence for a master of foxhounds, in every 
 respect complete." 
 
 Mr. Somerhy. — "Quorndon Hall, as a house, although 
 pleasantly situated, on the bank of the river Soar, which 
 runs partially through the grounds, has no pretension 
 beyond the rank of country gentlemen's houses in general ; 
 neither is it upon a large scale. Its situation, also, is not 
 central ; but it has one advantage, which Mr. Meynell 
 thinks much of. It is within easy reach of the forest 
 of Charnwood, which affords excellent opportunities for 
 making young hounds, as well as of cub -hunting, in the 
 autumn, with the old ones. That forest abounds with 
 foxes — is good scenting ground ; and we hunt there long 
 after the good country is shut up ; — in fact, until May-day, 
 at which .period of the year it is desirable, for more 
 reasons than one, that hounds should not have far to 
 travel to cover. Mr. Meynell is, therefore, partial to 
 Quorndon as a residence ; and he has a temporary kennel 
 in the Market Harborough country, in which his hounds 
 lie, when the fixture is in that quarter." 
 
 Mr. Raby. — " You are, I conclude, domiciled at Melton 
 Mowbray. All I know of that town is, from ha\dng once 
 passed through it, on my road to the north of England ; 
 but I did not get out of my carriage. It appeared to be 
 but an insignificant place." 
 
 Mr. Somerhy. — " And it is so ; it possesses but one inn, 
 and that a very bad one ; no bank, and very few good 
 houses. But it is well situated for a sportsman, during 
 his residence in the county ; as almost every good cover in 
 Mr. Meynell's, as well as in the other hunts, is to be got 
 at from it ; and, weather permitting, no man need remain 
 idle in Melton from want of being able to reach hounds." 
 
 Mr. Raby. — " Do vou hunt every day ? '' 
 
 Mr. Somerby.—" I do." 
 
 Mr. Raby. — " Is not the fatigue of hunting six days in 
 the week more than the generality of constitutions will 
 bear without injury ? " 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 35 
 
 Mr. Somerby. — " I think not. On the contrary, it is my 
 opinion, that any man, under the age of fifty-five, whose 
 frame is naturally sound, who lives temperately as to 
 wine, and who will allow himself eight hours' bed, will 
 be better in health for such severe exercise. It will 
 render him superior to fatigue, and, barring accidents 
 and epidemics, superior also to disease." 
 
 Mr. Baby. — " But, Mr. Somerby, I am at a loss to know 
 how you get over such fences as I saw in the country 
 between Harborough and Melton ; many of them 
 appeared impracticable, or 'stoppers,' as I am told they 
 are called in the fox-hunting world." 
 
 Mr. Somerby. — "Why, in the language of one of the 
 oldest sportsmen, and hardest riders, in the Belvoir Hunt, 
 we send our hearts over first and then follow them in the best 
 ivay we can.'' 
 
 Mr. Baby. — " You must get many falls, every year." 
 
 Mr. Somerby. — " Of course we do ; but we think nothing 
 of falls. Show me the man who says he never gets them, 
 and I will tell him he seldom sees hounds — at least few 
 good runs; and this in any country. But, to quote 
 another of our best men (singulus in arte, I was going to 
 say), 'Falls go for nothing, provided you don't let go 
 your horse ; but a man looks very small, running across a 
 field, in a red coat, booted and spurred, crying out. Stop 
 my horse ! — 'pray, sir, stop my horse ! ' The answer generally 
 is, ' It would be a pity to stop him, sir — he is going so 
 beautifully.' " 
 
 Mr. Baby. — "I am really ashamed of catechising you 
 thus, but the fact is, exclusive of the pleasure I myself 
 derive from your description, this second boy of mine, 
 whom you saw the other day with my harriers, has a 
 great wish to become a fox-hunter. Let us fill our glasses, 
 drink a bumper to Mr. Meynell and ' the Noble Science,' 
 and then, perhaps, you w^ll have the kindness to give us 
 a short account of a run with his hounds." 
 
 Mr. Somerby. — " I will with pleasure comply with your 
 request ; more especially as it is joined in by my young 
 friend there, whose attention to the hunting of your 
 excellent harriers very forcibly struck me. But he must 
 not think lightly of hare-hunting ; Mr. Meynell enters all 
 his young hounds to hare, although he expects them to be 
 steady to fox afterwards ; which will, no doubt, be the 
 case with your promising son. I know not, then, that I 
 
36 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 can do better than relate the particulars of the very last 
 run I saw with Mr. Meynell's hounds, rendered more 
 than commonly interesting, perhaps, by the part I myself 
 performed in it : — 
 
 " It was a beautiful morning for scent — at least, so it 
 appeared, and, for once, it kept its promise ; but I thought 
 it would be a scenting day, for I observed the clouds were 
 stationary above, and all was clear below, with no sun ; 
 the barometer was also rising. We had a large tield, it 
 being a favourite fixture ; and as I had the luck to tally- 
 ho the fox away, I, of course, got a good start. It 
 happened, however, that I this day rode a five-year-old 
 horse, the only one in my stable ; for that tender age 
 agrees not with our shire. I had never had a taste of 
 him before ; but my groom had, and assured me he would 
 make a trump. 'He is as quick as lightning,' said he, 
 ' and he will face anything ; but his temper, as you know, 
 sir, is none of the best. I would advise you, when you 
 can, to take a line of your own.' 
 
 " Our first fence was a flight of rails, with a yawning 
 ditch on the further side, which I thought it was my luck 
 to have the first fly at ; but, looking earnestly at the 
 hounds, — as every man should do, whether on a young 
 one or an old one, — I never saw parson Thompson, who 
 came right across me at the fence, and got a nasty sort of 
 a fall. (By-the-by, he told me, afterwards, he 'could 
 not stop the old mare, she was so d-- — d fresh : ' if so, all 
 well ; if not, served his reverence right.) I tried to stop 
 the young thorough-bred one ; but he threw up his heacl, 
 and it was ' no go ; ' so, thinking my own the most precious 
 life of the two, — I mean, of more value to me than parson 
 Thompson's, — I let him go ; and all I saw, when up in 
 the air, was the old mare's belly and his reverence's head, 
 the rest of his body being under his mare. However, I 
 never touched him, I am happy to say ; and two others, 
 besides myself, did as I did ; but the third was not quite 
 so fortunate. He jumped, as he thought, on the parson's 
 head ; but, as luck would have it, it was only his hat, as 
 his head had just that moment slipped out of it. You 
 are aware, Mr. Raby, these things will happen in our 
 very fast country, and are thought little of ; although it 
 is no joke to get a fall at the first fence, with such a 
 crowd behind you, each man trying to be in front, and 
 all as jealous as newly-married women at a ball. How- 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 37 
 
 ever, I kept my line ; and, if I remember right, the next 
 fence was notinng—onlij a gate, a stiff one, to be sure ; 
 but young ones are always good at timber — that is to say, 
 if they will but look at it. 
 
 "Now the pace soon began to tell; for the country 
 rode infernally deep, and there was no getting a nick by 
 a turn, as the fox went straight on end. There were not 
 more than eight or ten of the field very near to the 
 hounds, and no one exactly on their line. In fact, I saw 
 j)lainly how things were going. Puggy was facing the 
 cream of the country, and I said to myself, ' JFe are in for 
 a tickler.' 
 
 " I began to be sorry, however, that I was riding my 
 five-year-old ; indeed, I meant to have had him as my 
 second horse, and I must say my groom advised me to do 
 so. However, there M-as nothing to be done, now, but to 
 let him go ; and as I only gave two hundred for him, at 
 Newmarket, I thought I might try what he was made of 
 at once. You know, Mr. Eaby, it's no use keeping horses 
 at Melton merely to look at ; consequently, if they are 
 good for nothing, we send them at once to the hammer. 
 We let them try their luck in the iirovindals, when they 
 cannot live over the grass. 
 
 " The next fence was a bulfinch, as black as " — (Here 
 Mr. Somerby was interrupted by Frank asking his father 
 what was meant by a " bulfinch fence ; " but his father 
 was unable to answer the question) — " The next fence," 
 resumed Mr. Somerby, "was a bulfinch fence, as black 
 and as dark as the shades below : you could not, indeed, 
 have seen through it with a lantern. Then as to what 
 there might be on the other side, Heaven knew, but I did 
 not. I only guessed there was a yawning ditch, and very 
 likely a stilt" rail to boot. But what was to be done ? The 
 hounds were going the top of the pace — no time to turn 
 to the right or to the left ; two fellows nearer to them 
 than I was (didn't like that, you know, Francis, eh ?) and 
 Cecil Forester, close behind me, roaring out, ' Go along, 
 sir, for God's sake ! ' — so at it I went. It was a rasper 
 (' a raster ! ' exclaimed Frank, but only in hearing of his 
 father), surely, and I cannot say I was sorry when I found 
 myself well landed in the next field. Our party was now 
 becoming select. There were only five of us right well 
 with the hounds ; and although many were near, some 
 were already beaten, and some noivhere. But, to be sure. 
 
38 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 the pace was awful. 'Sharper than common, this 
 morning,' cried George Germaine to me, and he seldom 
 sings out, as you know, on that score ; ' how does the 
 young one like it "? ' Indeed, he has been heard to say, 
 during the Bibury meeting, that a race-horse never yet 
 went fast enough to please him ; and that, if it would not 
 hurt him, he would like to be shot out of a cannon's 
 mouth. Albeit, there was no cause for complaint now ; 
 still my horse appeared to be going at his ease ; in short, 
 he delighted me. I said to myself, ' You are worth double 
 vjhat I gave for you.' He jumped an ox-fence (Frank here 
 again looked surprised) the next but one after the bulfinch, 
 and then a stile, with an awkward foot bridge. A widish 
 brook he, of course, took in his stride — for all young ones 
 will leap brooks, if the riders will only let them go their 
 own pace at them ; so I did not think much of that ; but 
 I could not help saying to myself, — for there was no 
 one very near to have heard me, — ' / have got a trump, I 
 believe ; the blood of Herod will tell.' Still he kept 
 shaking his head in an extraordinary manner ; I had 
 never seen him do so before. If I had had my whip in 
 my hand, I should have given him a ' nobber ; ' for, you 
 know, it's awkward work going very fast at high and 
 strong timber — post and rail, or what not — with a blind 
 ditch on the rising side, and your horse shaking his head 
 like a terrier killing a rat. I could not do this, however ; 
 for I had lost my whip, and part of my breeches as well, 
 at that infernal bulfinch. I know not how it happened, 
 but that day I was not in leathers ; for John Hawkes and 
 myself always ride in leathers, though people say ' it looks 
 slow.' I suppose Pritchard thinks corduroys less trouble ; 
 for he often says, when he wakes me, ' Likely to be wet, 
 sir ; better not wear leathers to-day.' (The washerwoman 
 polishes the corduroys, and he cleans the leathers.) To 
 proceed with my story. When we checked for a minute 
 or two under Carlton Clumps, I found what it was that 
 made the young one shake his head. He had got a thorn 
 in one cheek, out of that infernal bulfincli, and the blood 
 was streaming down the other, from a rip from one of the 
 growers in it, I got the thorn out the best way I could ; 
 but my horse was evidently in much pain. What was to 
 be done ? I could have cried ; for I love horses better 
 than most things, and abhor cruelty in any shape. I 
 condemned myself ; I wished I was anywhere but where I 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 39 
 
 was, and said to myself, ' What could have possessed me to 
 ride Brilliant to-day, when I have nine seasoned hunters, 
 all sound, in my stable, and every one fit to go ; and 
 Griffiths, my groom, told me I had better not ? ' ' I'll go 
 home,' I said ; but, confound it, at that very moment. 
 Champion and Statesman hit off the scent ; Meynell took 
 off his cap, and gave a scream ; and what could I do ? 
 What would you have done ? The young thorough-bred 
 one had recovered his wind ; and, as he shook his head 
 less, and played cheerfully with his bit, I hoped he was in 
 less pain. He was carrying me magnificently — not more 
 than a dozen of us with the hounds ; a splendid country 
 before us — I took the lead again." (Here Frank heaved 
 another sigh, and became restless.) 
 
 " I shall never forget," continued Mr. Somerby, " the 
 third fence we now came to, which was out of the next 
 field but one to Shankton Holt cover. It was not a double 
 but a treble. It was of this description ; — thank Heaven ! 
 there are not more than three or four of such in most 
 runs ; — first, a ditch ; then a rail ; then another ditch ; 
 and then another rail. You see there is no landing for a 
 horse, if he takes fences of this sort at twice, except on 
 the first rail, or in the second ditch ; but the old ones 
 will double them, when very well handled by their 
 riders. 
 
 " Now the wind was well in Brilliant, and I had found 
 he would face anything ; but I doubted his being up to 
 this queer double, or treble,' as I have called it. I sent 
 him at it, then, at the rate of twenty miles an hour, 
 thinking to take it all at a fly ; but far as the clever 
 young horse flung himself, he could not clear the whole. 
 He alighted with one fore-leg over, and the other under, 
 the outermost rail, and gave me a thundering fall. ' It's 
 unfortunate,' said I to myself, glancing my eye at the 
 fence, as I arose from the ground ; ' if I had known that 
 that middle rail had been so weak, we would have gone 
 ' in and out clever,' as Cholmondeley says ; * at least, we 
 should have got over with a scramble. I am out of luck 
 to-day,' added I ; ' but here goes again,' and soon jumped 
 into my saddle. 
 
 " The hounds having turned towards me a little, I was 
 very soon in my place again. 'What now?' said one. 
 ' Disasters come thickly this morning,' cried another. 
 'All right again,' replied I ; 'take care of yourselves, for 
 
40 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 we are in for business to-day ; and I perceive one or two 
 of you have been paying your respects to Mother Earth. 
 Don't halloo till you are out of the wood, my boys.' 
 
 " The scent appeared to get better and better ; — indeed, 
 the pace had been awful since the check in the windmill 
 piece. I looked back twice, and could only see four of 
 the field in our rear, and there were but five besides 
 myself well with the hounds. ' This is beautiful,' I said ; 
 ' Divine ! ' shouted John Hawkes. ' Indeed it is, sir,' said 
 Wing, the grazier, going in his usual place. I thought so 
 too. I could not help giving them a cheer, which 1 don't 
 often do, and got a rebuke for my pains. ' Leave 'em 
 alone, sir,' exclaimed Meynell ; ' they cannot be doing 
 it better ; I'll bet a thousand on my hounds, if you will 
 not over-ride them.' Ten minutes more, however, began 
 to tell tales. One of the best nags out of Melton was 
 about to look queer, — and so did his owner too, for he had 
 been just saying he could go for another hour. It is true 
 he had rammed him along at a devil of a rate, and he 
 rides with rather too slack a rein. ' Never loose their 
 heads, my boy, whatever you do,' said my old uncle to me, 
 soon after I was breeched : and no man's advice was 
 better than his. He was one of the best of his day ; but 
 still I think he would be called ' slow ' now. 
 
 " But to continue our run. We crossed the brook 
 under Xorton-by-Galby, and went as straight as a line 
 for Rollestonwood, Forester and Lambton being the first 
 over it, and my young one following in the very foot- 
 holes of their horses. ' Ha ! ha ! ' said I to myself, as we 
 rose the hill in Galby-field, which, by-the-by, being deep 
 and stiff, took rather tight hold of the nags — ' another ox- 
 fence, and most likely another fall.' — ' I'll not have this 
 ox-fence,' said I ; ' they are turning to the right, and I'll 
 make for yonder sheep-pen in the corner.' But there was 
 no such luck for me, or my horse. ' It is as fast as a jail- 
 door,' said Loraine Smith, who was trying to open the 
 gate ; 'and there is not room to jump into and out of it.' 
 What was to be done ? The hounds were going with a 
 burning scent, and appeared to be bearing away to the 
 left. ' Here goes, then,' said I ; ' there is nothing else for 
 it ; ' so catching fast hold of the young one's head, I sent 
 him manfully at the ox-fence; but it had like to have 
 been a case. The ditch was broad and deep (Frank was 
 here observed to listen most attentively, with the hope. 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 41 
 
 no doubt, of being better acquainted with the nature and 
 character of this ox-fence), the hed,(?e thick and plashed, 
 and the rail beyond them strong. Neither was this all. 
 There was a considerable fall, or drop, into the next, field, 
 which would have been bad enough had my horse landed 
 himself on the ridge ; but, unfortunately for us both, he 
 alighted in the furrow, which was deep and sticky. The 
 drop must have been six feet, at the least, and he had a 
 hard struggle to keep his legs, for he must have cleared 
 more than seven yards in length, or he would not have 
 got over it at all. It told iqjon him ; but I soon got him 
 upon a headland, and, standing up in my stirrups, took a 
 good pull at his head, which recovered him Avonderfully, 
 before he got to the end of the ground, which was sixty 
 acres or more ; but you know, Mr. Raby, the thorough- 
 bred ones will do this. In short, he cleared a high gate 
 into the Uppingham and Leicester road, a little to the 
 right of Billesden, and a large, straggling, blackthorn 
 hedge, and a ditch out of it, witli apparent ease to himself, 
 and greatly to my delight. ' This cannot last long,' I 
 said. ' I wish the fox would die, or that I had any horse 
 in my stable save this ; but Pug must go to ground in the 
 Coplow, or, at least, we may come to a check in it.' The 
 devil a bit ; he never went into the Coplow at all, but 
 straight away, as if for Lozeby plantations. I shall kill 
 the young one, thought I ; but what could I do? We 
 went right over Tilton field — the worst ground in the 
 country for a tired one — and out of it I got another fall ; 
 but I believe it was my own fault. The fence was of this 
 description, — it was plashed, newly plashed, with growers 
 in it as thick as a man's leg ; but (confound all 
 Leicestershire hedgers and ditchers !) the brushwood 
 leaned, uncut, towards me, over at least two yards of 
 ground, and there was a wide ditch on the landing side. 
 Brilliant was going gallantly at it, when, perhaps, think- 
 ing I was upon Harkaway " 
 
 Mr. Baby. — "Pardon me for interrupting you, Mr. 
 Somerby, in your highly interesting and well - told 
 description of this fine run ; but allow me to ask why those 
 who have such large studs of hunters at Melton do not 
 always have two horses out each day, which would afford 
 a chance to change in the course of the runs ; at all events 
 in many of them ? " 
 
 Mr. Somerby. — "Your remark is an obvious one. A 
 
4J? THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 few of our hardest riders are inclined to do so, and I 
 hope to live to see the plan generally adopted. The 
 difficulty appears to exist in procuring fellows with 
 brains in their heads to ride the second horses iwoperly, so 
 as to bring them up fresh. However, to proceed. Perhaps,, 
 thinking I was on Harkaway, who is rather slack at his 
 fences, or, more likely, fearing we might drop short, I 
 rammed my spurs into the young one's sides, and he 
 jumped further than he need have done. He kept his legs- 
 on landing, but the third step he took afterwards, his toe 
 struck the top of one of those ant-hills with which that 
 part of Leicestershire abounds, and down he went on his 
 head. He rolled completely over me, and we lay on the 
 ground together. He was up first, however — for I could 
 neither stir hand nor foot ; but it was only from the wind 
 being knocked out of me, and in a very few minutes I 
 caught him. Indeed, he was walking quietly away, with 
 his back turned upon the hounds, having very little puflf 
 left in him ; in other words, he appeared regularly 
 pumped out. Nor did I like his appearance at all ; it 
 was anything but pleasing. His tail was shaking — his 
 flanks worked violently — his nostrils were much dis- 
 tended : there was that glare of the eye, also, which 
 horses exhibit when they are much overworked : and he 
 staggered as I leaned my weight on the stirrup. I stood 
 still for a moment, but could hear nothing. 'It's all 
 over,' said I ; ' they have run away from me ; I must go 
 home ; ' and I patted the young one on the neck, saying, 
 ' Well, you have gone a good one,' and walked him along 
 a headland to a gate which led to a hard road. Here he 
 struck into a trot, without being urged to it by me, which 
 plainly showed he was recovering himself ; and the 
 bleeding from his cheek had ceased. ' Hark ! ' said I ; 
 ' surely I hear the hounds ; ' but Brilliant had heard them 
 before"^ me. From a trot he struck into a gallop, and I 
 saw them about a mile ahead of rae. ' The fox will not 
 long face this wind,' said I ; ' I have a chance of dropping 
 in with them yet. By Jove, they are coming round to 
 me ; he has turned short for Quenby. I shall catch them 
 at Newton village. What a tickler the nags must have 
 had over the Newton hills ! ' 
 
 " As I predicted, I fell in with them in a road a little 
 beyond the village. There were eleven men wdth the 
 hounds, and I made the twelfth ; all the rest, as O'Kelly 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 43 
 
 said, after one of Eclipse's races — ^nowhere.' 'Where 
 have you been ? ' said one. ' Where I deserved to have 
 been,' was my reply. ' Are you hurt 1 ' ' No.' But my 
 horse ! what state was he in % Why, I will tell you. The 
 hard road had greatly recovered him and he leaped a 
 widish place out of the lane, when the hounds crossed 
 under his nose, as well as he could have leaped it in the 
 morning. ' ife's heart of oak,^ said I ; and I sent him at a 
 flight of rails nearly as high as his back, which he cleared 
 with apparent ease. In short, he appeared to be the 
 freshest horse in the field ; but he had had his puff, whilst 
 the others were going over the Newton hills (remember, 
 he was only a five-year-old). Distress was apparent in 
 all ; even Bernado began to refuse, which he never does 
 till he is beat (Forester swears he never icas but twice); 
 and Meynell's grey looked very much like compounding. 
 Germaine got fast into a sheep-pen ; for although Melon 
 jumped into it, he would not jump out; in short, the 
 jump had left him, and we never saw him again. ' Where's 
 the best place ? ' cried Cholmondeley, who could not face 
 some timber, and was looking for a creep through a 
 bulfinch ; he found it not, and we saw no more of him. 
 ' How shall we get over the brook 1 ' holloaed Lockley, 
 who would have jumped one twice as wide in the morning, 
 and thought nothing about it. ' Go quick at it,' said I ; 
 and Brilliant went a yard beyond it. ' Well done the 
 five-year-old ! ' holloaed Martin Hawke, who was the 
 next moment over head and ears in the water ; his horse 
 never rose at it at all. 
 
 " There were now only five of us with the hounds, and 
 it began to be labour and sorrow with us all. As for 
 Brilliant, it was all over with him. The flash in the 
 pan had exploded — perhaps had been extinguished by the 
 brook. Nevertheless, I am ashamed to say, I persevered 
 with him, but I could scarcely lift him along; — he 
 dragged his hind legs through the fences, and I could not 
 make him rise. He was, in fact, twice down on his head 
 in the space of a mile and a half, though we did not part 
 company. In addition to this, with the finest mouth in 
 the world, he leaned half his weight on my hand, and the 
 hounds were leaving me apace. ' I'll try him once more,' 
 said I to myself; so got him on a smooth headland (for 
 ridge and furrow were destroying him), and sent him at 
 a stile at the end of it. For the first time in his life he 
 
44 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 refused ; I put him at it again, and I thought he was 
 going to take it ; but he had not the power to rise, and, 
 swerving a little to the left, he ran his head into the 
 hedge, and floundered on his knees on the bank. I jumped 
 off him immediately, and thanked him for not giving me 
 a fall. Now what a situation was I in ! I could still see 
 the hounds, and the five men going by their side. But I 
 could only see them ; I could no longer be with them. 
 Like King Richard, at Bosworth, what would I not have 
 given for a horse ! 
 
 " The sequel is now to come. The fox was killed about 
 three miles farther on, after one of the finest and severest 
 chases recorded, even in Leicestershire. But in what 
 condition were myself and my horse ? As for me, I was 
 bruised and sore, and had dislocated by right thumb ; I 
 had also left my whip and a slice of my breeches in the 
 bulfinch ; but these were only trifles. I trembled for the 
 fate of the five-year-old, and could not bear the sight of 
 his wound. I looked for a village and could see none; 
 but I saw the house of a Leicestershire grazier, and that 
 was enough for me at the moment. I led Brilliant to his 
 stable, and his hack conve3^ed me to Melton. 
 
 " ' Richards,' said I to my groom — and no man has a 
 better — ' send a helper off with this hack directly, and 
 put yourself into the gig, without loss of time, with every- 
 thing necessary for a tired and maimed horse, and leave 
 him not till he is recovered ; that is to say (for I had my 
 fears), if he does recover. It was contrary to your advice 
 that I rode Brilliant to-day ; and, unfortunately for him, 
 it has been the hardest run we have had the last three 
 years.' 
 
 " ' It is a pity you rode him, sir,' replied Richards, 
 * whilst you had so many other horses c^uite fit to go. I 
 think he will make the best hunter in your stable in an- 
 other year or two. But where shall I find him, sir? ' ' At 
 Mr. King's, near Hungerton,' was my reply. ' He has 
 turned one of his own horses out of his best loose box on 
 purpose to make Brilliant comfortable.' 'And ivhere is he 
 cut, sirV asked the anxious groom; 'is it a bad over- 
 reach, or have you staked him?' 'I have done neither,' 
 I said ; ' get to him as quickly as you can, and you will 
 see.' 
 
 " I dined that evening at the old club in Melton, where 
 there was a very pleasant party ; and went afterwards to 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 45 
 
 another house, where all sorts of fun was going on ; but I 
 could have no enjoyment ; I thought only of my poor 
 young horse. It is, however, time to finish my story. 
 The following day was Sunday, and I told Pritchard not 
 to call me till ten. However, I grew fidgety ; so rang my 
 l:)ell at nine, and asked if there were any tidings from 
 Hungerton ? ' Yes, sir,' said Pritchard, ' Kichards and 
 the helper returned home last night, after you were gone 
 to bed.' ' How was that ? ' I inquired. ' Brilliant v:as 
 dead, sir, before they reached the house ! ' ' Shut the door, 
 said I hastily, ' and don't come near me till twelve.' I 
 had a good mind to have made a vow never to have hunted 
 again." ^ 
 
 At the conclusion, a dead silence was observed for a 
 minute or two : it was first broken by Mr. Egerton, who 
 had listened with the deepest attention. " I suppose, Mr. 
 Somerby," he said, "the scene you have been describing 
 is one of unusual occurrence ? " 
 
 "You mean the death of my horse," replied Mr. 
 Somerby. 
 
 " Not merely that," resumed Mr. Egerton. "It appears 
 to me strange that the word sport, which means diversion, 
 or pleasure, can be applied to the details of the day which 
 you have so minutely described. Here were upwards of 
 a hundred gentlemen assembled, at an immense expense, 
 hoping, no doubt, to enjoy the diversion of hunting a fox ; 
 but, by your account, not a tenth part were able to partake 
 of it ; for not more than that number saw a hound after 
 the first ten minutes, and those at prodigious peril to their 
 lives, great suffering to their horses, and, in your own 
 case, at the cost of a noble animal's life, and two hundred 
 guineas as well." 
 
 " You have hit my friend hard, Mr. Egerton," observed 
 Sir "William. " I shall listen anxiously to his defence." 
 
 " You know we are no fox-hunters at Amstead, Mr. 
 Somerby," said Mr. Raby, wishing to put his visitor at his 
 ease ; " we only blow our horses now and then with the 
 harriers ; and my reverend friend there has never even 
 gone that length." 
 
 " Yes, papa, but we do more than that sometimes,^'' ex- 
 claimed Frank (Andrew had quitted the room, and gone 
 
 ^ The reader may recollect a description, somewhat resembling 
 this, of a run over Leicestershire ; but it is lawful for an author 
 to take a leaf out of his own book. 
 
46 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 to the ladies, in the middle of the story) ; " you know 
 Farmer Williams's mare dropped down dead, in the 
 middle of a turnip field, the beginning of this season, in 
 the famous run you had with that slate-pits hare." 
 
 " True, my dear," replied Mr. Eaby ; " but Dick tells 
 me she had only been up from grass a fortnight, and that 
 she died from want of condition." 
 
 "Thank ye, Francis," exclaimed Mr. Somerby ; "I'll 
 drink a bumper to your health. You have given me a 
 capital lift in the defence I am called upon to make to 
 a somewhat serious charge, and to a reflection upon fox- 
 hunters and fox-hunting. You have helped me to the 
 very loop-hole at which I can escape. You shall now hear 
 what I have to say ; and, as I am sure you will, one day 
 or another, be a fox-hunter, I advise you to bear in mind 
 my observations. The facts are these : — Mr. Meynell, 
 and some other masters of foxhounds, have brought them 
 to the very highest pitch of perfection of which their 
 nature I believe is capable, both as to high breeding and 
 condition ; whilst the state of the horses that follow them 
 is left very nearly where it was. Strange to say, Cecil 
 Forester, the very best rider we have amongst us, and 
 supposed to be the best judge of a hunter, declares he 
 never saw half a dozen first-rate thorough-hred hunters in 
 his life ; the consequence is, that the half-bred horse is 
 still, for the most part, required to do what the thorough- 
 bred cannot more than do ; which is, to go a racing pace 
 over a country ; and he rnust go a racing pace to keep up 
 to Meynell's hounds. Then, again, the hunter remains in 
 the back-ground in another respect. Hounds are pre- 
 served in condition all the year round ; that is to say, they 
 are kej^t to a certain point of strength in their food during 
 the summer, and are exercised regularly till hunting 
 again commences. But how is the hunter served ? Why, 
 by the absurd prejudice of our grooms, to which we 
 inconsiderately give way, he is stripped of his fine con- 
 dition at the end of the season, — which, by the way, it has 
 taken half a year to acquire, — and allowed to run three 
 months abroad, accumulating a load of bad, flabby flesh, 
 amidst the persecution of flies by day, and subject to all 
 the vicissitudes of our climate by night. Now what 
 follows ? He is taken up in August, and by the end of 
 October — at all events, by the first week in November — 
 is expected to be equal to more than the exertions of the 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 47 
 
 race-horse wlio has never been entirely thrown out of 
 condition since he was first saddled. These are the causes 
 of such distress and apparent cruelty to the horse that 
 follows foxhounds, and account for the few that, by means 
 of great accidental superiority in the animal, are alone able 
 to see a fast and long run throughout. Thus, also, the 
 following paragraph, which I saw the other day in print, 
 is accounted for : — ' Mr. Meynell's hounds have had great 
 sport this season. Two extraordinary runs happened, 
 of a very rare nature. One was an hour and twenty 
 minutes, without a check, in which they killed their fox. 
 The other, two hours and fifty minutes, without a cast, 
 and killed. The hounds, in the first run, kept well 
 together, and only two horses performed it ; the rest of the 
 field were unequal to its fleetness. The other run alluded 
 to, was performed by the whole of the pack ; and though 
 all the hounds were up at the death, two or three slackened 
 in their pace just at the last. Only one horse went the whole 
 of it.' ^ But we shall live to see these evils remedied. 
 Some person or another, who has witnessed their extent, and 
 reflected upon the causes, will, one of these days, expose 
 them. We shall then hear less of tired horses, and very 
 little of those killed with hounds, and of runs in which 
 only one gets to the end, as in the extract I have just 
 quoted. Common sense, indeed, must at once direct us, 
 if we but give it a chance to do so. If hounds are every 
 year better bred, and go faster, the breed of our hunters 
 must also be higher and more pure. As the condition of 
 the former improves, so must that of the latter ; and I 
 have one consolation left me from the unfortunate occur- 
 rence which has called forth these remarks. I have made 
 up my mind, in future, to give my horses every chance in 
 their favour that it is in my power to aff"ord them. I have 
 determined never to purchase a horse not quite, or nearly, 
 thorough-bred, so long as I hunt in Leicestershire ; nor 
 will I ever throw a hunter quite out of condition again. 
 ' Let them down a little in the summer,' are my orders to 
 my groom ; ' but lose not what has caused you so much 
 
 1 See " The Meynellian System ; by the late John Hawkes, Esq.," 
 p. 21. It is more than probable that one of the three horses thus 
 distinguished was ridden by Mr. Hawkes himself, one of the finest ' 
 horsemen of his day, both over a country and over a course. Many 
 of my readers will' remember The Printer, and Featherlegs ; and 
 that Mr. H. ahoays rode horses of pure blood. 
 
48 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 trouble, and me such expense, to obtain. Lose not that 
 which, in fact, makes a middling horse a good one ; for I 
 fully agree with what I heard that tine sportsman, John 
 Warde, say, the other day, at the cover-side of the Pytchley 
 country, ^half the goodness of horses goes in at their mouths.' " 
 
 " Will yol^ favour us," said Mr. Raby to his guest, " with 
 the names of some others of the conspicuous sportsmen 
 who have been hunting in Leicestershire with Mr. Meynell 
 in your time ? " 
 
 "With the greatest pleasure," answered Mr. Somerby. 
 " You will excuse my giving them as they present them- 
 selves to my recollection at the moment. There have 
 been amongst them — The Duke of Orleans ; Lords 
 Maynard, Spencer, Sefton, Winchelsea, Harborough, 
 Stair, Craven, Robert Spencer, Charles Manners, Robert 
 Manners, Paget, Villiers, Egmont, Chatham, and Somer- 
 ville ; Sirs Carnaby Haggerstone, John Shelley, William 
 Gordon, Harry Featherstonehaugh ; General Tarletou, 
 Colonel Carter ; Messrs. Loraine Smith, Prince Boothby, 
 Charles Wyndham, Lambton, Ralph Lambton, Forester, 
 Cholmondeley, George Germaine, Martin Hawke, Jacob 
 Wardell, Lemon, Cradock, Thomas and Robert Grosvenor, 
 Goodhere, Norman, Arthur Paget, Conyers, Morant, 
 Assheton Smith, Pole, Saville, Musters, the two Heyricks, 
 John Hawkes, Lockley, Charles Meynell, Hugo Meynell, 
 junior, Orby Hunter, Rose Price, Peach, Boates, Robert 
 Montgomery, Berkeley Craven, Puleston, John IVEadocks, 
 Vanneck, Bennet, Graham, Harnes (of Glen), Nedham, 
 &c. &c. There are also some excellent sportsmen amongst 
 the graziers of this part of Leicestershire, and none better 
 than Deverell and George Henton. Neither inust I omit 
 Ted Hodges of Leicester, a very conspicuous sportsman, in 
 every acceptation of the word ; as a judge of cocking, a 
 nonpareil. 
 
 " Then, again, there is a new set just come among us — 
 Lords Plymouth and Foley ; Sirs Henry Peyton, Stephen 
 Glynne, and Wheeler Cuff; Messrs. Rawlinson, the 
 Lindows (twin brothers, and capital hands), Rolleston, and 
 Frank Forester ; the two Bruens from Ireland (with as 
 many horses as would do for a country fair), Lloyd, the 
 dandy Welchman, Apperley, and Thomas Assheton Smith, 
 better known as ' the Tom Smith.' " 
 
 Here the conversation was interrupted (Mr. Egerton 
 was about to speak) by Frank exclaiming to his father, 
 
J UavrU, sculp. 
 DICK KNIGHT 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 49, 
 
 " Oh, papa, and has Mr. Somerby hunted in the Pytchley 
 country 1 Would you ask him to tell us something about 
 Dick Knight, whose picture, representing him topping 
 the park-pales on Contract, our huntsman has got in his 
 parlour ? " 
 
 "You unreasonable rogue," said Mr. Raby ; "I wonder 
 what you will ask next ? " 
 
 Mr. Somerby, however, having overheard the question, 
 good-naturedly replied to it : 
 
 " Why, Francis, I am scarcely old enough to have seen 
 Dick Knight in his very best day ; but the prints which 
 you speak of give an excellent 'idea of the man ; and, 
 from the knowledge the amateur artist, to whose pencil 
 we are indebted for them, had of him, as a huntsman and a 
 sportsman, we must give them full credit for accuracy of 
 design and character. Has he not exhibited him displav- 
 ing all the good properties which his calling, as hunts- 
 man to foxhounds, requires ? In the first place, what a 
 horseman does he appear 1 How firm and beautiful is his 
 seat in the tremendous leap he is taking, obliged as he is, 
 at the same time, to stoop forward on his horse to avoid 
 the bough of a tree ! Then, what zeal he evinces ! and 
 what coolness, while changing his horse during the run, the 
 opportunity being aftbrded by his fortunately passing his 
 own stable door. Instead of being in a hurry to mount, he 
 casts his eyes towards his hounds and the country, before 
 he puts his foot into the stirrup. Then, see him with his 
 hounds at fault, and observe his anxiety for their safety, 
 whilst the colt is gambolling in the midst of them ; and| 
 lastly, mark him at the finish, with the dead fox in his 
 hand. ' JVho-whoojJ ! was never so carried,' cries he, on 
 dismounting from the fore-horse of the team, whose state 
 of exhaustion is so admirably depicted bv the artist, that 
 we could swear that, in one more field, the nag must have 
 died, if the fox had not. In fact, I have always told my 
 friend, Loraine Smith, for he claims the honour of having 
 been the designer, that no hunting prints have ever yet 
 appeared anything like so good as those of which we have 
 been speaking ; neither do I believe there have been 
 many better huntsmen than the celebrated Dick Knight. 
 
 " Perhaps you will like an anecdote or two, Frank " 
 
 resumed Mr. Somerbv, " of this noted man. His master 
 
 IS Earl Spencer, and a fine sportsman his lordship is. On 
 
 his return from London, last year, at the end of the gay 
 
 4 
 
50 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 season, almost the first thing Dick said to him, was, that 
 he ' feared the country was about to be ruined.' Lord 
 Spencer being then high in the administration of it, 
 naturally associated the idea with the general ruin of 
 Great Britain, whereas Dick was only alluding to 
 Northamptonshire as a hunting country. ' What now, 
 then, Dick?' said his lordship. 'Why, my lord,' he 
 
 replied, 'they are going to cut a d d canal through 
 
 the best part of our country ; ' a thing of all others, by 
 the way, most wanted by the inhabitants of it, and 
 which would benefit, instead of injuring it, as a hunting 
 country." 
 
 " How so, Somerby ? " said Sir William. 
 
 " Why, in consequence of the present great scarcity of 
 coals, from want of water carriage," continued Mr. 
 Somerby, " you will find, in many parts of Xorthampton- 
 shire, three high and strong blackthorn hedges, where 
 one only would be required. The object in planting 
 three, is, that one may be fit to cut down for fuel at a 
 certain period, and the others follow in succession. I 
 have often been stopped by these fences, which, as you 
 may imagine, nothing without wings can get over. 
 
 " But the other anecdote," resumed Mr. Somerby ; 
 ^' I must not forget that, as I see my little friend is on the 
 listen for it. There was a parson in the Pytchley country, 
 sadly given to press upon hounds, a fault never forgiven 
 by huntsmen. It happened that, one day, the parson 
 dropped short in a deep brook, and as he was floundering 
 about in the middle of it, Dick rode clean over him, with 
 these words in his mouth : ' His reverence sivims like a cork ; 
 hut never mind him ; this is only Friday, and he won't 
 be icanted till Sunday.' At a subsequent time there was 
 another of these inconsiderate riders with his hounds, 
 who, although well known in the sporting world, 
 happened to be a stranger to Dick Knight. Moreover, 
 he was clad in a blue coat, which added nothing to his 
 appearance and character, in Dick's eyes. At length the 
 gentleman got an awful fall, his horse rolling over him, 
 and he lay as if he were dead. ' There,' exclaimed Dick ; 
 'thank God we have done with you!'' In a few minutes, 
 
 however, Mr. G was in his place again, when Knight, 
 
 observing him, coolly said to himself, ' A resurrection before 
 the time, to a certainty. I had hoped never to have seen you 
 again in this world. I wonder what you'll do next ? ' " 
 
I |4^^ 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 51 
 
 "What a funnr fellou- that Dick Knight must have 
 been, papa," said JFrank. 
 
 " Oh," said Sir William, " we have not done with him 
 yet, Frank. I was out with the Pytchley, once, when we 
 thought we were in for a blank day. ' In fact, it was 
 three o'clock, and not a tongue to a fox had been heard. 
 At last a hound, called Abelard, spoke : ' Hark I '" said 
 Dick, holding up his cap, that he might hear the better ; 
 'that's Ahelard. A rejprieve, by the Lord." I need hardlv 
 add that he was right, for Abelard was the best hound in 
 the pack, and his blood is in most of the best kennels in 
 England ; the blood of the Pytchley Abelard, indeed, is a 
 passport to any hound." 
 
 ^"But we have omitted the best anecdote of Dick 
 Knight," said Mr. Somerby, " and my young friend here 
 must have that. Dick was a great favourite with his 
 noble master, and, like all favourites, now and then 
 presumed upon it. Having taken a tremendous leap, 
 one day, on Contract, Lord Spencer, who was next 
 to him, pulled up at it, and paused. 'Came along, my 
 lord,' roared Dick ; ' the longer you look, the less you will 
 like it.' 
 
 "The incident that led to the masterlv execution of 
 these prints was a spirit of jealousy between Mr. Assheton 
 Smith 1 and Dick Knight, when they met together, on one 
 particular occasion, in the field, 'the former riding a 
 celebrated hunter called Egmont, and the latter the 
 equally celebrated Contract. In fact, it was Quom fersvs 
 Pytchley. The prints were first published bv Jukes, a 
 great printseller in London, who is said to have realised 
 fifteen hundred pounds by the copvright, which was 
 made a present to him by Mr. Loraine Smith. 
 
 "Loraine Smith, on another occasion, sketched himself 
 m the act of fording a river after hounds, with his coat- 
 skirts tucked up to his shoulders, and therebv getting a 
 considerable start of the rest of the field, with the excep- 
 tion ot Lord Maynard, who chanced to foUow him • and 
 these lines written underneath the print : 
 
 '^y following Smith, a cute chap at a pinch, 
 ;j\T]0 knows all the depths of the brooks to an inch, 
 Lord Maj-nard, too, followed, and both did embark 
 Unly wetting their tails just below water-mark.' " ' 
 
 Father of the present Thomas Assheton Smith. 
 
52 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 "I conclude," said Mr. Eaby, "that Mr. Loraine Smitli 
 is a good man across a country." 
 
 " Few better for his weight," replied Mr. Somerby ; 
 "his great excellences, as a rider to hounds, are, his 
 judgment, and fine e^-e to direct him in taking his line. 
 On the 12th of December 1792, he went to the end of, 
 perhaps, the finest run that Leicestershire had afforded 
 up to that period, called the Whetstone day, the fox 
 haying been found in Whetstone Gorse, between Lutter- 
 worth and Melton. It lasted upwards of two hours, with 
 only one check, and all over grass. Still, the person who 
 most distinguished himself was Jacob Wardle, who, 
 although he (with many others) went away with part of 
 the pack, which could not be stopped, and only got up to 
 the main body of hounds just as they recovered the scent, 
 at a check at the end of a very severe burst, took the lead 
 and kept it until the hounds ran into their fox, at the 
 expiration of the time mentioned. The horse he rode — 
 a thorough-bred grey, afterwards called Whetstone— had 
 never been ridden as a hunter before in his life, and was 
 purchased by Forester, for 250 guineas, in the field. _ Lord 
 Maynard, however, seeing the distress this horse exhibited, 
 pronounced that he would never be himself again ; 
 neither was he. Lord Paget, who rode a horse called 
 Slender ; Pole, on True Blue ; and Forester, on Sweeper, 
 also distinguished themselves on this memorable day. 
 
 " Mr. Loraine Smith, on this day, rode a horse he had 
 not long before purchased of Mr. Berridge ; but, not 
 having had a trial of his merits, he had not then given 
 him a name. It was, however, by plunging with him into 
 the river Wellin, near Langton, which he did at no small 
 risk with a horse somewhat beaten, that he was indebted 
 for a sight of the conclusion of this splendid run. He 
 had the good luck to meet the hounds, evidently running 
 into their fox, pointing for Market Harborough, having no 
 one in company with them but Mr. W^ardle. ^ Mr. Smith's 
 horse soon afterwards declined ; and Mr. Wardle, on this 
 young and raw horse, would have been a good two miles 
 ahead of any other man in the field, had the fox not been 
 headed nearly at the finish, which enabled several of his 
 brother sportsmen to witness it ; and a glorious finish it 
 was, too, in the middle of a large grass field. But, as 
 regards Wardle and his raw horse, the most extraordinary 
 part of the story is yet to come. The country about 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 53 
 
 Langton was then just newly inclosed, yet lie jumped all 
 the strong post and rail fences without getting one fall. 
 Neither was his crossing the river Wellin undeserving of 
 notice. He pushed his horse before him, into deep water, 
 leaped upon his back whilst he was in the act of swimming, 
 and thus was carried to the opposite bank ! 
 
 " I remember hearing of another desperate run, in which 
 Mi\ Loraine Smith distinguished himself greatly by his 
 fine judgment in riding to hounds. On a day, with the 
 same pack (Meynell's), called ' the Alsops-house day,' he 
 appeared at cover on a five-year-old horse, of his own 
 breeding, called Shopleton ; and one, by his own admission, 
 not of high form as a hunter. He likewise got a bad start, 
 and never could get near the hounds till he met them on 
 Leak Hills, on their return from Gotham Wood. Not- 
 withstanding this disadvantage, towards the end of the 
 run, which embraced an immense sweep of country, him- 
 self and a gentleman named Deverill were the only two 
 that continued to keep with the hounds till they came to 
 Kinnoulton cover, when his (Smith's) horse slackened 
 pace. Deverill went on, and was the only man whose 
 horse could raise a canter when the fox was dying. He 
 rode a mare, called Gaylass, got by Lord Grosvenor's 
 famous Mambrino, whose fine picture by Stubbs has been 
 so much admired ; and, in consequence of her perform- 
 ance this day, she was sold to Sir John Shelley, and by 
 him to Sir Harry Featherstone, in both instances at large 
 prices, remaining a first-class hunter, in Leicestershire, 
 for several successive years. It was computed, at the 
 time, that, by his knowledge of the country, and the 
 points the fox was making, Smith saved three miles of 
 ground in the course of this run, w^hich is the principal 
 cause of my having detailed the particulars of it to you." 
 
 " Now, Frank," said Mr. Eaby, " you have had a great 
 treat ; so take yourself off to the ladies. I daresay you 
 will dream of Leicestershire and Dick Knight." 
 
 •' We shall see him in Leicestershire, some day or 
 another," observed Mr. Somerby. 
 
 " No," replied Mr. Raby ; "^^ at least, I hope not. 
 Melton Mowbray is no place for younger brothers : and 
 I fear it has often proved too much for elder ones," 
 
54 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 Devoted to rural scenes and characters, and combining matter of 
 amusement and instruction, "witli maxims of sound^heory, and 
 examples well worthy of imitation. 
 
 THE next day being Sunday, Frank had matters of a 
 graver kind to attend to — all very necessary, how- 
 ever, to guide him in the " race ''' he had to run : and 
 the plain, comprehensible sermons he heard in Amstead 
 Church were admirably adapted to that purpose. But, 
 on the Monday, a pursuit was proposed to him, by Jem 
 Perren. the keeper's son, quite as much to his taste, at 
 that early age. This was a game, once in much vogue in 
 England, and especially in counties bordering on the sea- 
 coast, known by the name of •' a cro^rs-nest race ; "'" — that 
 is to say, either a carrion- crow's nest, or a particular one 
 in a rookery, was to be climbed for, by three boys, and he 
 who first put his hand into it was the winner. Xow this 
 was not at all to Andrew's taste ; so that Frank had to 
 look abroad for his competitors ; but he had no difficulty 
 in procuring them. One was the son of the rector, a fine 
 and spirited lad, and of the same year with himself ; and 
 the other, a son of a neighbouring gentleman, much of a 
 like kidney. 
 
 '• That shall be the nest," said Frank, pointing to one in 
 the highest tree in the rookery. '' Surely not," said young 
 Chapman ; " the boughs are very slender ; indeed they 
 look as if they would break with our weight." Jem 
 Perren was likewise of this opinion, and began to lament 
 having proposed the day's amusement. " Nonsense," said 
 Frank, "' the tree is alive and good at the head, and I'll 
 be bound it will bear us." In fact, possunt, quia posse 
 i-identur;'- was his motto ; and he thus addressed his 
 competitors : — " Now, my boys, off with your jackets 1 
 when Jem gives the word, let us start." 
 
 The race is not always to the swift, but it is sometimes 
 to the bold; and this was the case here. It was well 
 enough contested, until the party arrived within a few 
 yards of the summit, when the apparent slightness of the 
 boughs, together with the frightful abyss below, caused 
 young Chapman and the other boy to pause. But Frank 
 Was not to be daunted. With the branches trembling 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 55 
 
 under him, onward he went to his point, and putting his 
 hand into the nest, cried out, " Who-whoop ! — I've done it ! 
 Here are two eggs in the nest," which he instantly put 
 into his mouth, to secure them from being broken in the 
 descent. 
 
 " Glad to see you safe down, sir," said Jem Perren ; " I 
 was mortally frightened for you ; and, if you had tumbled, 
 what would my lady have said to me ? " 
 
 "Oh," said Frank, "if I was, like Andrew, to do 
 nothing but what mamma likes, I shouldn't have much 
 fun. But, Jem, I am sorry to see the rooks have begun 
 to lay, for it shows that it will soon be over with hunting 
 for this year. How curiously these eggs are speckled I 
 but they are not all speckled alike." 
 
 At this moment Mr. Egerton made his appearance, and 
 asked who had been taking rook's eggs, as it was Mr. 
 Raby's orders they should not be touched. Frank, at 
 once, confessed himself the culprit, having suffered 
 enough, on a former occasion, from concealing the truth, 
 — in plainer English, telling a direct lie. 
 
 " Do you see what misery you have inflicted on those 
 poor birds, wdiicli are hovering round their empty nest ? " 
 continued Mr. Egerton. "For my own part, I have 
 always been a great admirer of birds — their notes, their 
 nests, their eggs, and all the economy of their lives ; — nor 
 have we, throughout the order of creation, any beings that 
 so continually engage our attention as these our feathered 
 companions. It is my opinion, that whosoever can exercise 
 cruelty towards a sparrow or a wren, the most insignificant 
 of birds, would, when circumstances enabled him, be cruel 
 to his fellow-creatures." 
 
 "But, sir," observed Jem Perren, "father says, 'take 
 every nest you see, Jem ; they are nothing but varmint ' : 
 so I knows not what to do ; and you knows, sir, our 
 farmers gives sixpence a dozen for young sj)arrows ; and 
 in the last year's churchwarden's account, I seed, with my 
 own eyes, seventeen shillings paid for seventeen dozen 
 tomtit's heads, three and fourpence of which came to my 
 share." 
 
 This was something of a damper for fine sentiment ; and 
 Mr. Egerton, taking out his watch, observed, that it wanted 
 but half an hour of dinner time . 
 
 " What's to be done to-day ? " said Mr. Egerton to his 
 pupils, after school, on the morrow following the crow's- 
 
56 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 nest race. " I am going in the phaeton, with mamma, to 
 call at the Grange," answered Andrew ; whilst Frank 
 admitted that he was informed, by Dick Perren, of a 
 marten cat, that he had seen in the big wood ; and he 
 believed he could show him the tree in which it makes its 
 bed. *' I suppose, sir, there is no harm in killing him, if 
 we can ; as Dick says he not only destroys the game, but 
 the huntsman to the foxhounds will be very glad to have 
 him put out of the way ; for his hounds have run him 
 twice, without being able to catch him, and he scratched 
 some of them sadly." 
 
 " The marten cat," said Mr. Egerton, " is a very pre- 
 datory animal, and, as such, there can be no harm in 
 ■destroying him ; and if you take him alive, which I con- 
 clude you will do, I wish to see him previously to your 
 p)utting him to death, for he is a very beautiful animal. 
 Then, again, of all those called vermin, we have none 
 more admirably fitted for a predatory life than the marten 
 cat. He is endowed with great strength of body, for his 
 size ; is remakably quick and active in all his motions ; 
 has an eye so clear and so perceptive, that nothing can stir 
 without his observation ; and, to complete his accomplish- 
 ments, he has a perfect sense of smelling. Again, his feet 
 are peculiarly adapted to his habits ; not treading upright 
 on the balls alone, but with the joint bending, the fleshy 
 parts being imbedded in a very soft hair ; so that the 
 tread of the animal, even on decayed leaves, in a wood, is 
 scarcely audible by its prey, which it, consequently, very 
 seldom misses getting into its clutches. In fact, every- 
 thing combines to make him a very destructive animal ; 
 and, as he is neither protected by laws nor privileges, I have 
 often wondered that he has so long been suffered to exist 
 in so populous a country as this. I find he was an object 
 of chase in former days, being mentioned, among the 
 beasts of venery, in the 'Book of St. Albans,' by Dame 
 Juliana Berners." 
 
 In about a fortnight from this time, Mr. Baby's harriers 
 ceased hunting for the season, and the foxhounds went to 
 finish theirs in a distant part of the country, in which 
 they had a kennel. This was, then, the commencement 
 of what are called the " dead months." An active mind 
 like that of our hero, however, could not remain without 
 some stirring pursuit ; so he devoted much of his leisure 
 hours to watching the operations of Perren, the head 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 57 
 
 keeper, in breeding and feeding pheasants, of which there 
 were, at that time, but few on Mr. Baby's estates, or, 
 indeed, on any other in the county. Now, Perren was 
 clever in this branch of his calling ; and a few of his 
 maxims were so well worthy of imitation, that his young 
 master cherished them through life. Amongst them were 
 the following : — 
 
 "In a young breeding-stock, never leave more than one 
 cock to seven hens, or as near to that proportion as you 
 can. 
 
 " When the hen pheasant is laying, or sitting, hang a 
 bit of red cloth, or a few links of iron chain, near her nest, 
 and no fox will molest her. 
 
 " Have a few patches of buck- wheat sown on the borders 
 of covers intended as j^heasant preserves. They operate 
 like the salt-box in the dovecot, in attaching the birds to 
 the spot. 
 
 " When you feed in the winter, heans are the most econo- 
 mical food, because the small birds cannot eat them, as 
 they do the lesser grain. The small tick-bean is the best. 
 
 " The most dangerous time for pheasants, from the 
 attacks of vermin, such as foxes, &c., is after a wet night in 
 the moulting season. They are then naturally weak, and 
 their wings being heavy from rain, they do not rise so 
 quickly as at other times. They should now be watched. 
 
 " When rearing pheasants by hand, observe the following 
 rules : During the first month, feed with hard egg and 
 ants' eggs, but give nothing to drink. Feed early, but 
 don't let the young birds go abroad until the dew has 
 quite disappeared. Keep them very clean, and shut them 
 up at sunset. 
 
 " Second month :— Feed on wheat, barley, and ants' 
 eggs. Being now subject to vermin, let them be supplied 
 with sand to roll in ; and if the pip seizes them, rub their 
 bills with garlic, finely bruised, in tar. 
 
 " Third month :— When the new tail-feathers appear, 
 danger is always at hand. Give them plenty of ants' eggs, 
 and put them out, by day, on a white clover field, but not 
 exposed to sun. You may give them white clover-seed, 
 mixed with other grain." 
 
 Our hero being observed, on one of the subsequent 
 evenings, by Mr. Egerton, in earnest conversation with his 
 father, in the drawing-room, was thus addressed by him : 
 — " AVhat is in the wind, now, Francis ? I perceive you 
 
58 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 liave been coaxing voiir father for something" " Why, 
 sir," replied Frank," "Jem Perren tells me that Mr. 
 Wright's otter-hounds meet at Cranby Mills to-morrow 
 morniug, at five o'clock ; and he has consented to my 
 going out with them, provided the huntsman accompanies 
 me, to see that I do not get into danger ; but there is no 
 fear of that, as I am only to take my leaping-pole." 
 
 " What ! " exclaimed Andrew. "Does Mr. Wright keep 
 hounds ? I always thought he was so poor that he could 
 scarcely keep himself and family, much less hounds." 
 
 " Why, I fear, Andrew, what you say is too true ; and, 
 as Wright is a good, worthy fellow, I wish he was better 
 off; but it shows how innate, in man, is the passion 
 for the chase, when he will forego, as poor Wright must, 
 many of the comforts, and even conveniences of life, to 
 indulge it." 
 
 On the following morning, at the early hour of live, 
 Frank Raby and the huntsman were at the Mill, where 
 Mr. Wright was in readiness for the sport, which he had 
 little doubt would ensue, as he had seen some very fresh 
 spraints (excrements) on the banks the evening before, 
 although he had failed in marking an otter to, or lodging 
 him in, his couch. He had but three couples of hounds, 
 and one three parts bull-terrier ; but all the party were 
 j)ro\ided with spears, which likewise served them for 
 leaping-poles. 
 
 The brook intended to be tried, having been " let off," 
 as the term is, by shutting down the sluices at the mill 
 above, the banks and shallows were in a good state for the 
 purpose ; and in less than half a mile, the seal (or foot- 
 ball) of a full-grown otter was discerned, and the scent 
 soon got warm. The ear of these animals being very acute, 
 they seldom wait to be surprised in their couch, and such 
 was the case here. A view-halloo was given by Mr. 
 Wright, on seeing the object of his pursuit dart into the 
 stream, from the hollow of an old willow tree, about four 
 feet from the ground ; and now the chase began. It was 
 for some time doubtful, from the superiority of the animal 
 over the dogs in swimming against the stream, and no 
 opportunity having occurred, during his vents (i.e. when 
 rising to the top of the water to respire), to strike him with 
 a spear, as to what the issue would be, whether blood 
 would be the result or not. In one of his vents, however, 
 whilst out of reach of the spearsman, an opportunity did 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 59 
 
 present itself to the bull-terrier, wlio leaped from the bank 
 on bis prey, and a terrible conflict commenced. The otter 
 instantly dived below the surface, carrying the dog with 
 him ; and, had not the severity of his bite obliged the 
 otter to let go his hold. Lion would have been very shortly 
 drowned. But the animal had received a wound from 
 the strong jaws of Lion, which so cripj^led his powers, 
 that in less than half an hour from the time he was first 
 found, Mr. Wright exhibited him on his spear-head, to- 
 the great joy of the party, and particularly of Frank 
 Raby, who, to use the words of Taplin, one of the sporting 
 authorities of that day, was " ecstatic with delight." Un- 
 able to ^find another, the sportsmen returned to their 
 homes, Frank and the huntsman having been previously 
 refreshed by the honest-hearted master of this small pack. 
 
 " Well, Frank," said Mr. Raby to him, on his return, 
 " how do you like otter-hunting ? " " Oh, very good fun," 
 he replied ; " but not so good as hunting with our own 
 hounds, because it is so soon over, for one reason ; and 
 again, I don't much like hunting on foot. But, papa, I 
 could have told all about it from those lines Mr. Egerton 
 read to^ us last night, in the library, from Some^ville's 
 ' Chase.' It is quite curious how well he described every- 
 thing I saw with Mr. Wright's hounds. What a sports- 
 man Mr. Someville must have been, eh, papa ! " 
 
 ^" Wliy," replied Mr. Raby, " I am unable to speak de- 
 cidedly on that point ; but he was an amiable man, and 
 a good country gentleman; although, by his liberality 
 exceeding his means, he greatly injured his estate, but not 
 his family, for he had none. Doctor Johnson, however 
 who lately wrote his life, as a poet (the Doctor, I presume, 
 could say nothing of him as a sjmisman,) allows him one 
 merit— that of setting a good example to men of his own 
 class, by devoting part of his time to elegant knowledge ; 
 and showing, by the subjects which his poetrv has adorned, 
 that It is practicable to be at once a skilful sportsman and 
 a man ot letters— a hint which I trust, Frank, vou will 
 take to yourself. But the Doctor could not let 'him off 
 without a slcq). He says—' He writes very well for a gentle- 
 
 ''^^^®^^'" resumed Frank, "I shouldn't wonder but 
 VV likins, who drives tlie Balloon coach, had been reading 
 what Dr. Johnson said of Mr. Someville; for, on mv 
 asking him, the other day, if Sir John Inkleton was not a 
 
6o THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 very good coachman ? he answered, ' Whv, Master Francis, 
 ■Sir John drives very u-ell for a (jejitleman.'" 
 
 As the summer season approached, Frank was sometimes 
 put to a nonplus for his pastime ; for, although he was 
 making great proficiency in angling, and had commenced 
 trying his hand at the gun, change was now and then 
 sought for by him ; and he addressed his father, on the 
 eve of Whit Monday, with — " To-morrow is our Whitsun 
 fair, papa ; I wish you would let Andrew and myself go 
 to it. I hear there is much fun there after the business 
 of the day is over/'' 
 
 " I am glad to hear it," replied the father ; " all nations, 
 ancient and modern, have allowed and encouraged sports 
 and festivities amongst the lower orders of the people, as 
 the best means of preventing greater and more serious 
 evils ; and he who would check them, when kept within 
 reasonable bounds, commits a great mistake. For my own 
 part, I myself, as a magistrate, rather encourage them, 
 than otherwise ; being convinced that, whatever tends to 
 make j^eople hai3py, tends to make them good ; and you 
 know we have very little crime in these parts. Now, I 
 have no objection to your brother and yourself riding over 
 to the Whitsun fair, in the cool of the evening, taking 
 your words for not getting into any mischief." 
 
 Andrew and his brother having partaken of an early 
 dinner, afterwards proceeded, on horseback, to the village 
 revels. And here they met with an incident, which it 
 may not be amiss to relate, as a caution to all fair-goers 
 who are not " wide awake." A person approached them 
 at full speed, on rather a shabby-looking pony, whom they 
 found to be the son of the miller at the Abbey, and one 
 who had an excellent opinion of himself, the result, per- 
 haps, of his old father's almost everyday boast, that " our 
 John is a very 'cute young chap, and not to be done by 
 any on 'em." " Oh, young gentlemen," exclaimed the 
 miller, pulling up the pony w^ith a jerk, "I hope the 
 Squire is at home." "He'^is," replied Andrew; "but 
 what's the matter, John ? " " Oh, sir," resumed ' our 
 John,' " I have been sarved such a trick — and I could 
 have sworn the man warn't born that could have done it. 
 You know, gentlemen, our four-year-old colt, father bred 
 out of the blind mare, a real soldier^ all over, and honestly 
 
 1 In the time of wav it is customary for dealers to say of a liorse 
 that he would make a good soldier— meaning a troop horse. 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 6i 
 
 worth soldier's price, or a little more ! Well, gentlemen, 
 arter riding him only twice up and down the fair, as I 
 was turning him round to go again, at the corner of New 
 Street, up comes two as respectable-looking gentlemen as 
 a man should see in a score, dressed in top-boots and 
 leather breeches, and says to me, ' What's the price of the 
 young nag, miller ? ' ' Thirty guineas,' says I ; you know 
 1 left a little for bating.^ ^ Sound?' says one. ^ Quiet P 
 says t'other. ' Lord love you, gentlemen,' says I, ' why, 
 father bred him. There isn't a sounder nor a gentler 
 creature on the face of earth, as his mother, indeed, was 
 afore him : and he's all over a soldier, if not an officer, 
 which father says he is.' Now, Master Eaby, how do you 
 think they sarved me? 'Any objection, miller,' says one 
 of these chaps — devils, God forgive me. Master Eaby — (here 
 Frank could scarcely refrain from laughing) — 'for me to 
 throw my leg o'er the young one, for a hundred yards or 
 so, and you can hold my pony the while ? ' ' None in the 
 least, sir,' says I ; ' ride him, by all means ; you'll say you 
 never was on the back of a nicer nag in all your life, and 
 by the time he has been one month in the stable of a 
 gentleman like you, nobody wouldn't know him again.' 
 XVell, Master Eaby, away goes this chap on father's nag, 
 and away rattles t'other all sorts of stuff to me, such as — 
 how was wheat selling in this country ? was father a free- 
 holder, or some big gentleman's tenant ? did we grind by 
 wind or water ? and all such questions as those. How- 
 somever, I soon found out that father was ground out of 
 his horse, clean enough ; for thinking it a long time before 
 the chap who was riding him came back, I says to t'other 
 chap — ' Where can the gentleman he?' ' I'll run up this 
 street,' said he, ' and see ' ; and so he did, but I seed no 
 more of our horse from that time to this, and all I've got 
 to show for him is this here pony (which they tells me is 
 glandered), that the second chap left with me to hold, 
 when he run up the street after t'other. Now, young 
 gentlemen, if it warn't for father and mother, nobody 
 should have seen me in the parish of Amstead again : I 
 would have gone for a soldier, along with father's colt ; 
 for they tells me he will be at Bristol by to-morrow night, 
 and away to the army, in a ship, before we could get there 
 arter him." 
 
 Here this part of the scene closed; and that which 
 1 Twenty-five was the ultimum price of troop horses. 
 
62 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 occurred on tlie meeting between "cute John" and his 
 father may be imagined by all who have read that 
 between the Vicar of Wakefield and his son Moses, on 
 the return of the latter from a very similar expedition ; 
 neither can much be said of the appeal to the Squire of 
 Amstead, as a magistrate. As for granting warrants for 
 two " resiDectable-looking persons in leather breeches and 
 top-boots," that was quite out of the question : forasmuch 
 as, in those days, half the buyers and sellers of horses in 
 the fair were thus accoutrecf; moreover, in the case of 
 these two rogues, it would have been doubly useless, as no 
 doubt but the said leathers and top-boots were hidden 
 from sight, by smock-frocks, or overalls, as soon as the 
 wearers of them were once clear of the town ; and at 
 least three inches taken off the colt's tail, if he were not 
 further disfigured. All that Mr. Raby could do, was to 
 throw back ten pounds of his rent to the old miller at the 
 next audit-day, to console him for his loss, and to caution 
 him, in future, from making "our John'"' believe there 
 were not sharper fellows in a horse fair than the son of a 
 country miller. 
 
 It was the wish of Mr. Raby that his sons should learn 
 the art of fishing, in its higher branches, if such a term 
 may be allowed me ; but he discouraged the practice of 
 angling with live worms for small fish, as being both 
 cruel and unprofitable. " The art of angling," he would 
 say, " opens a wide field for the naturalist ; and is a 
 rational and contemplative amusement — cheap, and in- 
 structive withal." Mr. Egerton, himself a fisherman, also 
 •encouraged this sport in his pupils, reminding them 
 not only of its antiquity, but that^it was not considered 
 infra dig. by Homer, Virgil, and other celebrated poets, 
 when distinguishing their heroes by their professions, 
 iDusiness, or pursuit, to mention the "skilful angler." 
 
 Andrew entered heartily into this sport, and, by the 
 instructions of the keeper, Perren, became a rather 
 dexterous fly-fisher ; he could also take good pike with 
 his trolling-rod, generally making his bait an artificial 
 minnow, or frog, by the advice of his amiable tutor. 
 " Why torment fishes or insects," he would say, " by 
 impaling them alive on hooks, when inanimate objects 
 will be equally attractive as baits ? Besides, inde- 
 pendently of the reflection cast upon angling, from the 
 unnecessary pain inflicted, the principal art of the fisher- 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 63 
 
 man lies in his choice of flies. For example : do you not 
 remember, last summer, when you accompanied me to the 
 Grange, that Mr. Holmes, the rector, killed nearly as 
 man>" trout as the rest of the party altogether ; and when 
 grayling fishing, in October, he actually filled his basket, 
 whilst the rest of us could scarcely take a fish 1 Then, 
 again, I believe you heard the story of Mr. Musters, in 
 the preserved waters of his friend, near Uxbridge. There 
 was a trout of six pounds in a hole, which the keepers of 
 the owner of the domain had long tried to take, but they 
 had always failed in their attempts. Mr. Musters came 
 down from London for the purpose, choosing a favour- 
 able day, — took the fish at the third throw, and gave the 
 keepers a guinea." 
 
 " Pray, sir," inquired Frank, " which do you consider 
 to be the best rivers for grayling ? " 
 
 " The Dove and the Trent," replied Mr. Egerton, " are, 
 I believe, about the best ; and the Teme, which runs 
 through Herefordshire and Shropshire. In this river, 
 near Ludlow, was caught the largest grayling ever seen 
 in England ; it measured half a yard in length, and 
 weighed four pounds six ounces, which is considered a 
 prodigious size and weight for this species of fish. By- 
 the-by, I can tell you an anecdote relating to this river, 
 which is highly complimentary to the pursuit of fishing, 
 associated as it is with a love of rural scenery (in which 
 that country abounds), and the enjoyment of the beauties 
 of nature. The autumnal months are best suited to this 
 stream ; and it happened that General Tarleton, after 
 having revelled in the pleasures and luxuries of a London 
 season, retired to the village of Leintwardine, about nine 
 miles from Ludlow, for the purpose of fishing for grayling 
 in the Teme. He had excellent sport ; and when he left 
 the small inn at which he had sojourned for a month, he 
 wrote the following postscript to the landlord's bill : ' I 
 voluntarily add the sum of twenty pounds to the amount 
 of this bill ; being not only an acknowledgment of its 
 very moderate charges, but in testimony of the fact that 
 the month which I have passed in the village of Leint- 
 wardine has been the happiest that I have hitherto 
 passed.' " 
 
 There is one practice of the fisherman in which Frank 
 Raby was desirous to excel, and this was the dexterous 
 throwing of the casting-net, at which Perren, the head 
 
64 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 keeper, was a proficient. Dressed in his smock-frock, 
 then, would Frank be seen at the shallows, below the 
 mill, in %vhich gudgeons and perch were plenty ; and 
 he was now and then rewarded with a pike, in the 
 deeper jDarts of the river, which were clear from reeds or 
 weeds. But the casting-net is not a certain engine of 
 destruction, as relates to large fish ; its chief use is for 
 catching what is called " small fry," either to stock waters 
 with, or for baits, where live baits are used ; and out of 
 the multitude of fish which it takes, when thrown by a 
 good hand, there is much choice to be made. But Ihe 
 exercise of this net is an act of much grace, when cast as 
 it should be cast ; for, although it resembles a bell in 
 shape, whilst remaining in a quiescent state, when spread 
 to its utmost extent it forms a complete circle. Long, 
 then, before Frank arrived at maturity, there was not 
 a person in the neighbourhood who could handle this 
 net better than he could, his fnstian-jacketed preceptor 
 excepted. He was, likewise, a fair hand at a trout, and 
 the knowledge of the flies best adapted to taking him, at 
 various times and seasons ; at the same time there was, in 
 his estimation, somewhat of a tameness throughout the 
 entire proceedings of the fisherman, which gave him some 
 difficulty in determining whether he really liked it as a 
 sport, or merely endured it as the means of beguiling a 
 few vacant hours. 
 
 There was one reason for a difference of taste in the 
 pastimes and pursuits which these brothers exhibited, 
 and this was in the nature of the physical constitution of 
 each, which seldom fails to have its effect on the intel- 
 lectual one. Andrew had been a weakly child from his 
 birth, and he was, consequently, unequal to enter into 
 the rough and arduous pursuits which alone seemed ta 
 fascinate our hero. But the time was now arrived when 
 both were to make their start in the world, and repair ta 
 a public school, as their father had done before them, and 
 for which they were well prepared by Mr. Egerton. Yet 
 here arose a difficulty, which it will be in my power to 
 account for, as likewise to show how it was obviated. 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 65 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 The hero enters upon the stage of life, and also on another stage, 
 which, with various incidents narrated in this chapter, will be 
 found corroborative of the adage, that — " as the twig is bent, 
 the tree's inclined." 
 
 I HAVE already presented to the reader the character and 
 situation of the brother of Mr. Raby, uncle to the two 
 boys ; but it may be necessary further to observe that, 
 having made up his mind to remain a bachelor, as more 
 congenial to his unconquerable love of ease and quiet, as 
 well as to his generally epicurean habits, he had settled 
 in his own mind that Frank Raby should succeed to 
 his fortune, which, as I have already stated, was con- 
 siderable, and likely to increase, rather than diminish 
 in his hands. This being the case, it is but reasonable to 
 suppose that he interested himself in everything relating 
 to the formation of the character of his intended heir, who, 
 although he rather encouraged than checked his desire to 
 become a sportsman, he was very anxious should become 
 a scholar, to fit him for that place in society it was his 
 intention to have occupied himself, but which constitu- 
 tional indolence put a bar to. "With this view, then, he 
 paid a visit to the Abbey, to talk over matters with his 
 tirother, respecting the future education of his nephew ; 
 it having been communicated to him, that, after the 
 midsummer holidays, both Frank and his brother Andrew 
 were to be sent to a public school. The result of this 
 visit, as regarded the point in question, will be seen in the 
 following dialogue : 
 
 " AVell, brother," said Mr. Andrew Raby, " I find the 
 boys make their debut in the world after midsummer ; 
 have you determined on Eton '? " 
 
 "Why, as we were Etonians ourselves," replied Mr. 
 Raby, " and have had no cause to repent of having been 
 so, I see no objection to Eton ; but have you vourself 
 any ? " 
 
 "None, whatever, to the school. Dr. George Heath 
 who is at the head of it, and Dr. Goodall, the second 
 master, are both scholars ; although the first, in spite of 
 his witty translation of the celebrated line — 
 ' Ille dolet vere, qui sine teste dolet,' 
 
66 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 is as bare of humour as a hurdle is of flesh ; and if Goodall 
 had a little more of the stoic about him — at all events, a 
 little more firmness — Eton would be none the worse as 
 a school. But, as you kindly ask me the question, I 
 candidly tell you, I had rather that the two boys should 
 not both go to the same school, and I will give you my 
 reason. Frank, though not wanting in parts, is disposed 
 to do as little as he can possibly help with Mr. Egerton, 
 and I am much afraid that if he were at Eton, with his 
 brother, he would coax him into making his exercises for 
 him, which his naturally aftectionate disposition w^ould, 
 I am sure, induce him to do. You are aware, brother, of 
 my intentions towards Frank. I not only mean to leave 
 him what I am possessed of, but it is my earnest wish that 
 he should sit in Parliament, and make a figure in the 
 world, in some other way than as a mere sportsman, which, 
 it is evident, he is resolved to be." 
 
 The door of the library opening at this moment, the 
 ■conversation between the brothers was momentarily in- 
 terrupted by the appearance of a neighbour, who was on 
 terms of the greatest intimacy with them both. This 
 was Mr. Freemantle, a rich London banker, who had 
 purchased a fine property in the county, where he was 
 beloved and respected by all for the kindness and 
 hospitality which he displayed, as well as for the first-rate 
 talents of his cook. 
 
 " Raby," said the banker, " how are you ? What ! 
 Andrew, are you here ? Delighted to see you both ; but 
 didn't know you were come down, Andrew, What news 
 from town, eh ? How could you find it in your heart to 
 leave town at this gay time 1 " 
 
 " Why, you may suppose that it is something extra- 
 ordinary. The fact is, we are discussing the point 
 whether Eton or Westminster school is best suited for 
 Frank. Xow, what say you ? " 
 
 " Why, as to what boys may bring away in their heads 
 from either, I don't think there is the toss-up of a guinea 
 between the two ; but, as to what they may bring away 
 in their pockets, there is a wide difference between them. 
 A terribly aristocratic place is that Eton school, and I'll 
 give you a proof or two. When my nephews were there, 
 I gave them a five-pound note on the Friday, as I passed 
 through to visit a friend at Taplow ; and on my return 
 to town on the Monday, chanced to see one of them at Salt 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 67 
 
 Hill. ' Well, William,' said I, ' how much of the five- 
 pound note is left ? ' ' The five-pound note 1 ' he replied ; 
 ' why not a rap : it all went the same day ; part to pay 
 oft' a score for filberts and sherry ; and the rest to Jem 
 Stevens, for hack horses and tandems.' Then, how much 
 do you think one of these chaps owed for gloves ? Why, 
 three pounds sixteen shillings 1 But, now I think of it, 
 and I never mention Salt Hill that I don't think of it, 1 
 can tell you a better story than either of these, to show 
 how little your Eton blades think of money, I had these 
 same hopeful nephews of mine (by the way, you know 
 they have turned out very well, both perfect gentlemen) 
 to dine with me, on a whole holiday, at Salt Hill, and was 
 soft enough to tell them to bring half a dozen of their 
 friends with them. Well, of course, they did so ; and a 
 fine lot of youths they were ; very highly bred, I believe, 
 all, and the son of a duke amongst them. I gave them a 
 good dinner, but was diverted by an incident in the 
 middle of it. ' Hand round the champagne,' said I to 
 
 the waiter ; but Lord S put his hand on the top of his 
 
 glass, and said, ' No champagne for me ; / am a sherry 
 man.'' Pretty well, thought I, for a lad of fourteen. 
 However, they all delighted me by their behaviour, which 
 was correct in every respect ; but when about to rise from 
 the table to return to Eton, I found that I had not done 
 with them yet. ' You must pouch these fellows, uncle,' 
 whispered William. ' Pouch them,' said I ; ' what do you 
 mean by pouching them ? ' ' Tipping them,' was his 
 reply. ' They will consider themselves insulted if you do 
 not.' ' Ah I ' resumed I, ' now I comprehend you ; and 
 what must I give them ? ' ' Oh ! ' replied James, my 
 younger nephew, 'a guinea apiece ivill do.' Here, then, 
 was a good day's work ; for what with the bill at the inn, 
 and the pouchim/, I had not much left out of a twenty- 
 pound note." 
 
 " A true bill, no doubt, Freemantle," said Mr. Raby ; 
 " Eton, I find, is about the same as it was in my time ; 
 and your mention of Stevens, whose miserable hacks we 
 used to ride, often at the expense of a flogging, reminds me 
 of an anecdote of his hopeful son, Jem. When Wentworth 
 left Eton, he was so enamoured of this aspiring blade, that 
 he hired him as his personal servant ; but he returned to 
 his old quarters, at the expiration of three months ; when 
 he thus accounted for himself, as we magistrates say on the 
 
68 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 bench. ' Mr. Yorth,' said he, ' was veil enough ; indeed 
 he vished to hedicate me, and bought vigs for me, that I 
 might learn to cut hair, and did many kind things besides ; 
 but his walet and I couldn't agree at all. At last, however, 
 ve had a reg'lar blow up ; and finding that Mr. Vorth 
 backed the walet against me, I vopped him and the walet, 
 and here I am, once more.'" 
 
 " Well," observed Mr. Andrew Raby, " these are ex- 
 tremely amusing stories, and very characteristic of Eton ; 
 but let us return to our discussion on the question of 
 choice between the two schools, and also hear what our 
 friend Freemantle has to say on the subject." 
 
 " Why, if you wish for my Oi^inion," replied Mr. 
 Freemantle, " you shall have it ; but, mind ye, it will be 
 one, perhaps, that you Eton and Oxford men — and you, in 
 particular, Andrew, who brought honours with you from 
 Oxford — may not exactly admire. Scholarshij), or, if you 
 will, learning, has been rung in my ears as the summum 
 honum — the one thing necessary for man. In fact, to say 
 of a person that he is a scholar, seems to imply every kind 
 of superiority; and to say that he is no scholar, the 
 reverse. Now, I confess that, after much reflection and 
 much inquiry, I am at a loss to comprehend the mighty 
 benefits of what is called fine scholarshi]). Some 
 advantages it certainly has ; but, perhaps, its disadvantages 
 are greater than we think, and for these reasons : — It too 
 often prevents the excursions of a vigorous understanding, 
 by keeping it in a beaten track, the invariable practice 
 of all great schools ; it perpetuates error, by imi:)Osing 
 receivecl oj^inions upon tliose who, if they had thought 
 for themselves, would have discovered truth ; it divides 
 the attention, and often fixes it on subjects which are not 
 suited to that particular genius and turn of mind, which 
 nature would have exerted upon some other, the object of 
 her own choice, and with much more advantage. Neither 
 is this all. By loading the memory, it restrains the 
 imagination ; and, by multiplying precepts, it anticipates 
 the judgment. Give me the man whose knowledge is 
 derived from the cojdIous sources of his own reason ; whose 
 mind is filled with ideas that spring not from books, but 
 from thought ; whose principles are co-existent, because 
 deduced in a regular ratiocination, and not from scraps of 
 different systems gleaned from the works of others and 
 huddled together without examination. Where is the 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 69 
 
 scholar whose opinion can be said to be entirely his own ? 
 Or where is the genius that we wish to have trammelled 
 by the impressions of others ? Are we sure Shakspeare 
 would have been what he was, had he been a deeply-read 
 scholar ? At all events, our public seminaries of learning 
 do not exactly correspond with the precept delivered by 
 the Spartan king, — ' that the child should be instructed 
 in the arts which will be useful to the man ; ^ and if my 
 father had had nothing to boast of but a first-class degree 
 at one of your Universities, I should have never had the 
 honour of being a banker's son. Nevertheless, although 
 it is possible that a finished scholar may emerge from our 
 schools and colleges, in total ignorance of the business and 
 conversation of English gentlemen in the latter end of 
 the eighteenth century, I am still ready to admit the 
 advantages to be derived from the study of the Latin 
 and Greek languages. They deposit in the hands of a 
 disciple, the keys of two valuable chests : and it is his 
 own fault if they are afterwards lost, or laid aside." 
 
 The morning of setting forward for school having 
 arrived, it produced various sensations at Amstead Abbey. 
 As for the two boys, the novelty of the thing, the thoughts 
 of the journey, and the pocket-money, macle their hearts 
 light ; but there were other hearts very differently 
 aftected, and one overpowered with its weight. This, as 
 may be supposed, was that of the good and affectionate 
 Lady Charlotte, who, as she could not command her 
 tears, declined taking leave of her sons. Xor was Mr, 
 Eaby very fit to appear in their j)resence, although he 
 strove to conceal what he felt. But there were two 
 belonging to the establishment of the Abbey, whose 
 feelings could not be controlled, and these were Dick 
 Perren and the cook : the one absolutely bellowed from 
 the eff"ect of his grief at the loss of ]\Iaster Francis, his 
 young master ; and the other, who, notwithstanding what 
 she occasionally suffered from his tricks, loved him as 
 the apple of her eye, betrayed the amiable weakness of 
 woman, but by no means to her discredit. Her method 
 of exhibiting it, however, was a singular one: she had 
 taken her station at the first gate in the park, at which 
 she knew the carriage must stop while the footman opened 
 it, and approaching, with her face nearly inclosed in 
 her apron, she chucked into the carriage two half -guineas, 
 wrapped in a bit of white paper, with these words 
 
70 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 inscribed — " God bless you both J' And what return did 
 ske get for this silent, though not less eloquent offering 
 to her grief ? Why, Frank put his head out of the window 
 of the carriage as it passed on, and, schoolboy-like, roared 
 out, " You stupid old fool! " 
 
 The party arrived at the county town just in the nick 
 of time. The horses were being put to the " Balloon," and 
 Wilkins was coming out of the office, with his whip in 
 one hand, his way-bill in the other, and a "Benjamin" 
 thrown over his left arm — all evident signs of being quite 
 ready to start. Having walked once round his horses, 
 and examined their coupling reins and curb chains, after 
 the manner of those times, he addressed his young 
 passengers, as they alighted from their father's carriage, 
 with — 
 
 " Glad to see you, young gentlemen ; proud of the 
 honour of having you about the coach. Two insides and 
 one out — box-seat — all right I — A beautiful morning. 
 Now, Mr. James (to the footman), be alive with the 
 luggage, if you please ; we are all ready for a start ; and 
 you know we are werry particular at this end, if we can't 
 always be so at t'other.^' 
 
 " I say, Wilkins," said Frank, " I shall not ride inside 
 after we get out of the town ; I shall come alongside you 
 on the box, and put James inside with my brother." 
 
 "Very good, sir," replied Wilkins, "proud to have you 
 on the box : you'll be one of us, some day or another, 
 Master Francis, I am quite sure ; but, will your papa " 
 
 " Pooh ! " exclaimed Frank, " how will papa know 
 about it?" 
 
 " Not from me. Master Francis," resumed Wilkins, 
 " I never tells no tales ; but you had better not come out 
 till we get through Clifford, for the parson there is almost 
 always at the window when the coach passes by, and he 
 is a tattling old devil ; ten to one he don't slip it out next 
 time he dines at the Abbey. We shall stop to water at 
 the ' Black Dog,' Master Francis, and then you can come 
 on to the box." 
 
 The coach having arrived at the "Black Dog," and the 
 exchange between Francis and the footman having been 
 completed, the following edifying conversation ensued 
 between the master and his pupil : — 
 
 " Do you feel yourself comfortable. Master Francis 1 " 
 began Mr. Wilkins — " never on a coach before, eh ? Here, 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 71 
 
 put a bit of my box-coat over your knees, 'twill keep off 
 the dust from your clotlies." 
 
 " I like being on the box very much," replied Frank, 
 " but how it shakes ! " 
 
 "Ay, master," said the old coachman, "it does that, 
 sure enough, 'specially with one who ain't used to it ; 
 they do say, they are going to put the boxes of all stage- 
 coaches on springs, but Heaven knows when that will 
 be — not in my time, I fear. Our people say it won't do, 
 that we shall go to sleep upon them ; but there's no danger 
 of a man doing that now, even if he should be a bit 
 overtaken with drink. But, Master Francis, there is a 
 great deal of hart in sitting on a coach-box, as well as 
 in driving four houses. Your body must go with the 
 swing of the box, and let your lines (loins) be as lissom as 
 you can. It would kill a man, in a week, to drive as far as 
 I do, over such a road as this, if he did not do as I say." 
 
 " You have got good horses in the coach, Wilkins," 
 observed Frank. 
 
 " Good creatures in natur', sir," was that worthy's reply, 
 " but they haven't no chance. This here sixteen miles of 
 ground and only one rest-horse, kills them. To be sure, 
 master grubs them well, or they'd been dead years ago." 
 
 " Years ago I why, how old are they ? " 
 
 " Why, I was going to say, you must ask my father that 
 question. Howsomever, I have drove three of the four, 
 nine years, and t'other came to this coach from the 
 ' Express,' the first year I drove it : I think he must be 
 quite twenty." 
 
 " But how fat he is ! " 
 
 "Always the case with groggy ones," observed Mr. 
 Wilkins ; " as soon as they have filled their bellies, they 
 are down on their bed, because they are in pain when 
 they stand up. A foundered coach-horse, like a gouty 
 alderman, is always fat. But this near wheeler is my 
 favorite (giving him, at the moment, three tremendous 
 stripes, with his double thong, over his back, and two 
 over his ears, followed by a sort of rolling noise in his 
 throat, resembling that made by gargling for a sore one) ; 
 you'll see how he'll hug his collar going up Brampton- 
 hill, at the end of this stage. He's half a team himself, 
 but still he's an awkward chap to drive. There's some 
 difference, sir, I can assure you, between driving well- 
 bitted fresh horses, like your papa's, and such dead-alive 
 
72 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 bow-kickers as these are, all as sMfty as a lawyer : in 
 fact, this off-wheeler is a lawyer all over, for he'll not 
 work at all, if he is not devilish well paid for it ; and I 
 keep a short Tommy in the boot, on purpose to pay him 
 off. Howsomever, Master Francis, you shall try " what 
 you can do with them if you like, so shift over to my 
 side, and I'll put the reins right in your hand." [Here 
 it may be observed, that the short wheel-reins being 
 generally in use at that time, the placing the reins of 
 four horses in the hand of a tyro was not a complex affair. 
 The wheel-reins merely rested across the left hand, after 
 passing between the fore and the middle finger, and those 
 of the leaders passing between the thumb and fore finger, 
 and the fore and middle finger, were very readily distin- 
 guished from the others.] 
 
 " XoM-, Master Francis," resumed old Wilkins, " mind 
 what you are about. Keep your wheel-horses to their 
 collars, and your leaders will get out of their way of 
 themselves. Now, let me see you point your leaders to 
 the left without moving your wheel-horses. Well done, 
 master ! that will do. Now shoot out your wheelers to 
 the right without disturbing your leaders. Ah I that's not 
 so easily done ; but it will come all in time. A man wants 
 three hands to stir these bow-kickers, 'specially if he 
 ain't used to them. But let me see you hit this near 
 wheeler. Well, not much amiss, Master Francis, though 
 something like thrashing. I fear the old horse thinks 
 you are playing with him, for he minds you no more than 
 a bolster does a flea-bite. Now touch up the grey mare. 
 Ah I master, that won't do. Always hit a leader beloio 
 the bar, or you will be for ever having a bite, but catch 
 no fish. But now, sir, if you please, I'll take 'em in hand 
 again down the hill, for it's a long fall, and, as I told you 
 before, this near wheel-horse is rather given to say his 
 prayers, if he steps on a loose stone." 
 
 At the bottom of the hill (they were now close upon a 
 village), Wilkins pulled up his coach, and, in an undertone, 
 said to an outside passenger, " Xow, sir, if you please, 
 will you get down, and walk through the town ? " On 
 his afterwards resuming his seat, at the other end of it, 
 the dialogue thus proceeded : 
 
 ." What is the meaning of this, Wilkins ? " asked Frank; 
 "why not let that passenger ride through the town? — 
 you are not heavily loaded." " Why, sir," replied Wilkins, 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 73 
 
 "between you and me, I means to swallow that gentleman 
 to-night." ' -, » 
 
 " Swallow him !— what the deuce do you mean i 
 
 " Why, Master Francis, I don't mind telling you, because 
 all the servants at the Abbey says that you are not one 
 of the wide-in-the-mouth sort, no tale-teller. We poor 
 coachmen, you know, sir, must live; that is to say, we 
 must make tongue and buckle meet at the end of the year, 
 or we gets into trouble. Now, this can't be done for only 
 ten shillings a week on such a dull road as this, besides 
 what we kicks the passengers for, without a bit of shoulder- 
 ing. This gentleman is what we call a shoulder-stick, 
 and, instead of his fare going to the proprietors of the 
 coach, it finds its way into my short pocket." 
 
 " And do you never get found out ? " 
 
 "Sometimes. I lost one good sarvice, owing to 
 shouldering a sodger. Made a vow, Master Francis, never 
 to shoulder another sodger, for a proprietor can see him a 
 mile off. No more cocked hats and feathers, said I, for 
 me, except they are on the bill, and then they ain't worth 
 having." 
 
 Just at this moment the "Balloon" coach, doivn, 
 appeared in sight ; and, on both coaches being pulled up 
 alongside each other, the following somewhat symbolical 
 sentences were interchanged. 
 
 " How do, Joe 1 " 
 
 "How do, William?" 
 
 " Anything said ? " 
 
 "No ; but I thinks the young one's /i/." 
 
 " Good day, Joe ; there's three in and two out, booked 
 for vou to-morrow." 
 
 But we must here close this portion of our history. 
 Let it suffice to say, that Frank got another lesson from 
 Wilkins, with some" hints which he never forgot : but on 
 the approach of night, resumed his inside place, and, in 
 due time, found himself safe in London, under the roof 
 of his uncle, who was delighted at the thoughts of his 
 nephew making such a promising start in the world, with 
 the assurance that, in after-life, he would have the means 
 of supporting both the rank and character of a gentleman. 
 
 It was three years since the young Rabys had been in 
 London, a period at that early age well-nigh long enough 
 to obliterate all recollection of what it had appeared to 
 be. Three days, however, having been allowed them to 
 
74 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 see what was best worth seeing in their eyes, they made 
 the most of their time, nearly exhausting the energies of 
 their uncle, who made no small sacrifice in exerting them. 
 And there was one place which he had believed nothing 
 could have ever induced him to visit again, being so very 
 little to his taste, and that was Tattersall's. 
 
 " Do let us go to Tattersall's," said Frank to his uncle, 
 on the Monday ; " I should so like to see all the fine 
 horses he sells ; besides which, I daresay, we shall meet 
 with some of papa's friends." 
 
 To Tattersall's then they went, and witnessed a curious 
 scene. The impatience of a schoolboy is proverbial ; and 
 that of Frank Raby for the scene of action, having got 
 the better of the tardy motions of his uncle, the party 
 found themselves at " the Corner " at least an hour and a 
 half sooner than they need have been, a period of the day 
 when the auctioneer is employed in offering for sale a 
 few low-priced hacks, as a sort of prelude to the more 
 important scene which is to follow, when the aristocratic 
 j)art of the audience assemble. This, however, passed 
 unnoticed by the uncle, who was no horse man, but not 
 so by Frank Raby. " What I uncle," says he, " is this 
 the famous Tattersall's that I have heard Sir John 
 Inkleton and my father talk so much of? — where Sir 
 John sold eight grey coach horses, not warranted sound, 
 for £800 ? Whv, I did not see a worse set of rips at our 
 Whitsun fair ! ""^ 
 
 " Rips to be sure they are," said an old friend of his 
 father and uncle, who stepped out of the crowd at the 
 moment, just in time to hear the remark, "yet I have bid 
 seventeen pounds for one of them, a very useful-looking 
 pony. But let me shake you all by the hand. Raby, 
 glad to see you. Lads, who would have thought of seeing 
 you in London 1 — on your road to Eton, I suppose ; and 
 how did you leave them all at the Abbey ? — not coming 
 to town this season, I fear." 
 
 "But, Mr. Yerner," said Frank, interrupting him, 
 "why don't you buy the ' useful -looking pony ?' he must 
 be cheap at that money, and I hear Tattersall now cry- 
 ing out — 'Going at eighteen pounds.'" "Well, Frank," 
 replied Mr. Yerner, " to oblige you, I'll go another pound ; 
 you would like to have to say, when you write home, 
 that you saw me buy a horse at Tattersall's : " so catching 
 the auctioneer's eye, and tipping him a wink, down went 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 75 
 
 the hammer, with — " For you, Mr. Verner, I believe ; " 
 followed by a nod of assent from his customer. 
 
 Now, were it not for the well-known rapidity with 
 which the Messrs. Tattersall dispose of the commencement 
 of their sales, to make way for more business-like pro- 
 ceedings, it might be difficult to reconcile, or account for 
 the following fact, though fact it surely be. 
 
 " Pray, sir," said a countrified-looking man to Mr. 
 Verner, in about ten minutes after his purchase had been 
 made, and as all the party were on the road to the large 
 stable, to which they supposed the " useful- looking pony " 
 was returned till claimed — " have ye got a mon here to 
 take away the cou; or must she 'bide where she is 
 to-night 1 " " The cow I " exclaimed Mr. Verner, " what 
 cow ? " 
 
 "Why," resumed the countryman, "the nice black 
 Alderney Mr. Tattersall knocked down to ye for eighteen 
 pounds ; a better creature for milk never had a pail put 
 under her." 
 
 The case was exactly this : " the useful-looking pony " 
 had been disposed of during the salutation between Mr. 
 Verner and his friends, and the Alderney cow had been 
 the next lot brought up. She was going for seventeen 
 pounds, but for the exchange of the wink and the nod 
 just in the nick of time, which consigned her to the 
 possession of Mr. Verner. 
 
 The evening preceding the day on which the young 
 Rabys were to repair to Eton, his uncle was addressed 
 by Francis with — " By what coach do we go to Eton, to- 
 morrow, uncle 1 " 
 
 " By the Windsor and Eton ' True Blue,' of course ; it 
 will put you down at your dame's door. But what makes 
 you ask the question 1 " 
 
 "Why," resumed Frank, " Sir John Inkleton particularly 
 wished us to go by the Birmingham ' Prince of Wales' ' 
 coach, which would put us down at Slough, where it 
 changes horses, and we should only have a mile to walk." 
 
 " But your luggage," observed Mr. Raby, " what is to 
 become of that ? " 
 
 " Oh ! " continued Frank, " Sir John said that old 
 Baldwin, who keeps the 'Crown' at Slough, on our 
 mentioning his name to him, would send our luggage to 
 Eton in a cart." 
 
 There must be some motive for all this, thought the 
 
76 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 uncle ; something more than meets the ear. " Come, tell 
 me at once, Francis, what is the reason for your wishing 
 to go hy that Birmingham coach ? " 
 
 " Why, to tell you the truth, uncle," answered Francis, 
 " Sir John told me I should see the famous Jack Bailey, 
 who drives it, and who taught him to drive four horses, 
 when he was at Eton." 
 
 "Well, Frank," continued the uncle, "I see no great 
 harm in this request of yours ; but, as Sir John was an 
 Etonian himself, did he recommend nothing to your 
 notice that might be more serviceable to you than a 
 Birmingham coachman ? " 
 
 " He didn't say much about anything else," replied 
 Frank, " except that, when I got old enough, and wanted 
 a good horse or a tandem, on a whole holiday, he would 
 write a line to recommend me to Stevens, who used to let 
 him have some good ones." 
 
 "Black Monday" having at length arrived, Frank and 
 his brother were placed on the front roof seat of the 
 " Prince of Wales " coach, the footman having been 
 despatched by the Windsor and Eton " True Blue " with 
 the luggage. 
 
 On descending from the coach, at Slough, Frank having 
 slipi^ed half a crown into Jack Bailey's hands, over and 
 above what his brother had given liim when he paid the 
 fare, shortly arrived at his "agreeable seat in Bucks," as 
 he used afterwards to call Eton school, where their tutor 
 having soon found that his elder pupil had looked into 
 Ovid and Virgil, and had not looked into them in vain, 
 recommended his being placed in the middle remove of 
 the fourth form, and then proceeded to examine the 
 pretensions of our hero. Finding him all but innocent of 
 the Greek tongue, his location was soon determined upon. 
 On his informing his tutor, however, that he had begun 
 making nonsense verses, a page of " Csesar's Com- 
 mentaries" was put before him, when he set to work 
 much in the same manner that the young aspirant in 
 anatomy does, when he anticipates phlebotomizing, by 
 opening the veins of full-grown cabbages. 
 
 There is not, perhaps, in the whole course of man's life, 
 a more remarkable change than the removal of the child 
 from the luxury and freedom of a wealthy home, to the 
 frugal diet and strict subordination of a public school : 
 from the tenderness of parents, and the obsequiousness of 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 77 
 
 servants, to the rude and boisterous familiarity of equals, 
 the tyranny of seniors, and, too often, the rod of a cruel 
 and capricious pedagogue. These hardships, however, 
 are beneficial : if they do not absolutely steel the mind 
 and body against the assaults of fortune, they turn to a 
 good account. They produce an equilibrium in a large 
 body of youths, of various pedigrees, distinctions, and 
 expectations, and prevent the assumption of those 
 imaginary perfections which swell the hearts of men, 
 and still more of boys, to the great annoyance of their 
 associates. Nevertheless, the best nature does not yield 
 to chastening and buffeting without some degree of im- 
 patience ; and it is to be feared that the sufferings of the 
 generality of boys, at very large schools, in the lower 
 classes of it especially, are greater than commonly im- 
 agined. At all events, the first week at Eton is a serious 
 trial to the nerves of a shy or home-sick boy ; a thousand 
 questions are asked, some of them rather difficult to be 
 answered ; answered they must be, or a slap in the face is 
 the consequence. The Rabys, however, made their way 
 among the crowd, and partly for these reasons : — Their 
 name was known as aristocratic, and they were called 
 " devilish good-looking fellows ; " — Francis, especially, 
 who had a certain " knowing look " about him, accord- 
 ing to the language of those days, which soon made an 
 impression : as did also the knowledge of his father being 
 a master of hounds, and of his having brought letters of 
 introduction to Stevens and Jack Bailey from the well- 
 known Sir John Inkleton, who was considered an orna- 
 ment to Eton school. Still, all this did not serve him as 
 an indemnity from some of the tricks commonly played 
 oft' on new-comers in these licentious days. 
 
 It was the saying of a Spartan king, that — " Boys should 
 be introduced to the arts which will be usefuf to them 
 when they become men." Independently of the business 
 of the school, this maxim has always been acted upon 
 at Eton, in the various popular pastimes. Amongst the 
 foremost of these is the management of the boat, which 
 soon became a favourite one of our hero, whose sculling 
 was excelled by none at the expiration of his third year. 
 He was likewise good at cricket, quoits, backsword I3lay- 
 ing, and other manly games; and above all at football, 
 inasmuch as few could beat him at kicking shins. 
 Andrew was always a good cricketer; and bv his mild. 
 
78 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 unassuming manners, together with the reputation he 
 acquired as a scholar, he soon became as popular as his 
 brother in the society in which he moved. 
 
 It is not my intention to follow the Rabys through all 
 the grades of the school : it is sufficient to"^ say that they 
 both reached the fifth form with credit to themselves, as 
 well as to those who instructed them, and proceeded, in 
 due time, to Christchurch College, Oxford, although with 
 somewhat different views ; a first-class degree being the 
 grand object with Andrew ; a forward place with the 
 foxhounds, the principal desideratum of Francis — the 
 honour of being considered a good fellow in the college, 
 and over the mahogany, standing next on his list of what 
 he considered accomplishments. 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 Christmas at the seat of " a fine old English gentleman," with its 
 appropriate accompaniments — good company, good cheer, and 
 good sport. 
 
 THE month of December, despite of frost and snow, is a 
 cheerful month in the house of a country gentleman 
 whose means are large, and consequently Christmas and 
 its festivities were well kept up at the Abbey. Even 
 customs of monkish introduction were observed, and the 
 interior of the mansion was decorated with holly branches, 
 from the fine mirrors in the saloons, to the stewpans and 
 crockery in the kitchen. Neither was the mistletoe for- 
 gotten, under the magic shade of which not a female in 
 the establishment, from the governess to the kitchen-maid, 
 escaped the usual and generally repeated salutation of 
 Frank Raby in this season of licence and conviviality, his 
 brother Andrew taking a part in the scene, but selecting a 
 chosen few. 
 
 Ale had been brewed for the occasion, and there was 
 little limit to the drawing of it, short of actual abuse ; it 
 being the wish of Mr. Raby that the hearts of his depen- 
 dents should be gladdened, in proportion to his means of 
 gladdening them, at this festive season. 
 
 It is noio a commonplace observation, " How little 
 remains that poverty and innocence can partake of ; " and 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 79 
 
 we have legislators who, if they could, would make that 
 little less ; but, happily for the people, such was not the 
 case in the times to which I allude. The dance round the 
 maypole, on May-day, or on the village green, at Whitsun- 
 tide, — the harvest-home supper, the bonfires of November, 
 and the good cheer of Christmas, were looked for and 
 enjoyed as surely as the seasons arrived, and the contribu- 
 tions to these indulgences, from all the family at the 
 Abbey, were at all times liberal. 
 
 The sirloins of beef, the mince-pies, and plum-puddings, 
 the wine and ale, eaten and drunk under its roof, were in 
 perfect keeping with its baronial exterior ; and jthe cloth- 
 ing and fuel, furnished to the neighbouring poor under 
 the management of Lady Charlotte Raby, were still more 
 abundant. 
 
 The meeting between Frank Raby and his father's 
 huntsman was truly characteristic of both. It is not 
 my intention, here, however, to give a second edition of 
 Frank's appearance with his father's harriers in the field ; 
 although he was complimented, by the huntsman, on the 
 improvement in his hand and nerve, and the judicious 
 remarks he made on some of the leading hounds ; but we 
 will proceed at once to his debut with the foxhounds. 
 
 The morning was cloudy and still, looking like a hunt- 
 ing morning, and the family had all assembled in the 
 breakfast-room, when Sir John made his apj^earance, the 
 Abbey being only a mile or two out of the road that led 
 to the appointed cover. " Well, Inkleton," said Mr. Raby, 
 after the usual salutations had passed, and pointing to his 
 son Francis, who was clad in a green hunting-coat, and 
 a pair of leather breeches made expressly for the pur- 
 pose, " here is the happiest fellow, this da}^, in our own 
 county, and, very probably, in the next to it. Andrew 
 says, he has not closed his eyes since three o'clock this 
 morning, praying heartily for daylight. I am sorry 
 I cannot accompany you to the field, as I must attend 
 the bench to-day, but I have ordered Dick, the hunts- 
 man, to do so, and take the young fox-hunter under his 
 care." 
 
 " There is' no necessity for that," replied Sir John ; 
 " one of my hunters having been amiss, is much in want 
 of work, and I have ordered Preston to be at the cover, 
 and he will do all that is required, in piloting Frank ; and 
 you know old Preston is to be depended on." 
 
8o THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 " JVhen the hounds find?" exclaimed Lady Charlotte, 
 with some expression of doubt on her countenance. 
 
 " As steady as old Time, I assure you, Lady Charlotte," 
 replied Sir John ; " besides, he is a perfect old woman 
 across a country, and has too great a regard for his own 
 neck, to run any risks of breaking Frank's," 
 
 Breakfast concluded, Frank having fed no better than 
 he slept. Sir John's cover-hack was announced as being at 
 the door, and he and his happy companion set forward on 
 their road to Bransford-wood ; and thus they discoursed 
 on their way : — 
 
 " Well, Frank," said Sir John, " how did you get on at 
 Eton? I heard of your performances on the 'Balloon' 
 coach. Mitchell also wrote me word that Jack Bailey 
 speaks well of you." 
 
 " Oh, Eton's well enough out of school hours. Sir John," 
 replied Frank; "lots of fun going on then. I liked 
 Stevens very much indeed ; he never refused me a 
 tandem, and he ticked me for a terrier at once, the best 
 you ever saw ; he has drawn three badgers, and killed 
 three cats, since I have had him. I only gave two 
 guineas for him, and I have brought him down to have a 
 breed between Myrtle and him. But everybody seems to 
 like Jack Bailey ; I have had several lessons of him." 
 
 *' That's right," said Sir John ; " there's nothing like 
 being well ' nitiated ' in road-work ; and pray what was 
 your favourite road, when you went out in Stevens's 
 tandem ? " 
 
 " Oh," replied Frank, " sometimes one, sometimes 
 another ; but I'll tell you a good story about what 
 happened a fortnight back. Two fifth-form fellows went 
 in a tandem to Egham, and dined at the ' Eunning Horse.' 
 They drank too much wine, and, by taking a wrong turn, 
 lost themselves in Windsor Great Park. Seeing a finger- 
 post, however, the one that was not driving got out of the 
 gig to read it, when, after a pause — for I suppose he could 
 not see very clearly — he called out, ' H for Windsor ; all 
 right, go along. Bob ! ' They came too late for absence, 
 and got a devil of a flogging the next day ; but ' H for 
 Windsor ; go along, Bob ! ' has been a kind of watchword at 
 Eton ever since." 
 
 " Capital ! " exclaimed Sir John. " I remember a joke, 
 when I was there, which will never be forgotten. The 
 fellows had all red coats made purposely for the Montem ; 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 8i 
 
 and when they had to pass in procession before old 
 George III., a lad named Ripston appeared in one big 
 enough for a full-grown man, with skirts down to his 
 heels, and great silver buttons, with a fox running 
 engraved upon them. Old Heath w^as outrageous, and 
 called him up to him, which being observed by 'Old 
 Nobbs,' as we called the king, he asked the Doctor who 
 the boy was ? On hearing the name, his Majesty good- 
 humouredly exclaimed, ' Oh, Doctor, leave him alone ; / 
 hnovj his breed.' The fact was, he was the son of a 
 sj)orting baronet, a master of foxhounds, and he had had 
 the coat made large enough to fit an old huntsman of his 
 father's, then past work. But here are the hounds ; we 
 are just in time ; and, by the number of horses at the 
 cover-side, it appears as if we should have a large field. 
 You and old Preston must take care you are not ridden 
 over at the start. And there is the master of the pack, 
 God bless him ! a better sportsman never cheered hound ; 
 and when you come to know what foxhounds are, you 
 will say he knows how to breed them. In fact, taking 
 them for size and shape, there is not such a pack, this 
 day, in England ; and if we live long enough, we shall 
 hear of their blood in every kennel in the land. But, 
 Frank, let me have a word or two with you before we get 
 to the cover. We are sure to find a fox, and, there is 
 reason to believe, a good one ; I shall, therefore, tell 
 Preston what to do with you. If he goes down ivind when 
 first he breaks, his point will be Blackthorns. In this 
 case, I shall tell Preston that, if he takes you down the 
 turnpike-road about 200 yards, and then turns short to 
 the left, he will find a line of gates, that will lead you 
 straight to the wood, where, probably, he may hang a 
 little. Should he go up tvind, Roystone will be his point, 
 a very stiff country to begin with, and the Stark brook, to 
 a certainty. Preston will here make for either the mill, 
 to the left, or the bridge at Elwel, to the right ; for you 
 must not have the Stark, if you mean to return alive to 
 the Abbey : it is wide and deep, and the banks are very 
 soft. However, you will be in good company, for not 
 more than one in ten of the field will have the Stark at 
 all." 
 
 The greeting between Sir John and the master of the 
 pack was, as usual, kind and cheering. " Glad to see you, 
 Sir John," said the master, " you always bring us luck." 
 6 
 
82 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 "Glad to hear you sav so,"' replied the baronet; "we 
 certainly have had a succession of fine runs lately, thanks 
 to your excellent hounds, and the way in which they are 
 hunted. But I have brought you something more to- 
 day ; I have brought you a young sportsman, of no small 
 promise, who has the good taste, even at his early age, to 
 prefer foxhounds to harriers. I hope we shall enter him 
 well to-day to a good run, and blood him at the end of it." 
 
 " Glad to see you, sir," said Mr. Warde (for of him and 
 his hounds have I been speaking, and who was then in 
 the zenith of his glory, and hunting one of the many 
 countries which he hunted in his time) ; "although your 
 father is no fox-hunter, I have a great regard for him as a 
 conspicuous sportsman in his line, and a staunch preserver 
 of foxes ; and it was only last night that we drank his 
 health in that honourable capacity. You have a clever 
 little mare under you, and I hope we shall find out, 
 before night, whether your father's old oats are as good as 
 his new were. I was entered to hounds before I was your 
 age, and I mean to stick to them as long as I can sit in my 
 saddle. Now, Bob," ^ to the huntsman, " throw your 
 darlings into cover ; and," addressing himself to Frank 
 Baby, "mind this, young gentleman — if you hear a 
 hound speak in the cover, you may bet all the money you 
 like that it is to a fox. Every toiujne is a fox with my 
 hounds, as I suppose every tongue is a hare with Mr. 
 Baby's harriers." 
 
 Scarcely had the pack spread themselves, right and left, 
 in the wood, than Samson was observed lashing his sides 
 with his stern, and Champion rushed through the strong 
 brushwood to join noses, as much as to say, has the villain 
 been this road in the nujht ? " Have at him, Samson," said 
 Mr. "Warde ; " look about you. Bob, we shall find him in 
 five minutes." " And Champion, also, says so," returned 
 the huntsman, " and he never told a lie in his life." 
 
 But the "villain" did not wait to be found. The drag 
 grew warmer and warmer as the hounds drew onward, 
 and the deep tones of such of them as were equal to 
 owning a scent at least eight hours old, being audible 
 down wind, even in the deep recesses of the cover, away 
 went as fine a dog-fox as ever wore a brush, and then the 
 scene became glorious. The crash, when the body of the 
 pack got together ; the shouting of the foot people in the 
 1 Robert Forfeit, who then hunted Mr. Warde's hounds. 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 83 
 
 rides ; the blasts of the horns ; and the hallooing of the 
 horsemen — some eager to assist in getting the hounds to 
 their game, others mad to get a start; — all this had a 
 thrilling effect on our young sportsman ; but there was 
 no time for looking about ; the hounds were on good 
 terms with their fox — their heads up, and their sterns 
 <iown — and a fine grass country before them. 
 
 The fence out of the wood M^as an awkward one ; it was 
 a low, but stiff gate, which, of itself, would have been 
 nothing ; but an open drain, under repair, was in front of 
 it, on the rising side, which made the rider and his horse 
 look about them. Sir John led the way, followed by 
 three more, when Frank' cleared it, with a good yard to 
 spare, sticking to his horse as tightly as if he had been 
 strapped to his saddle ; and this was, without doubt, 
 the happiest moment of his existence. He had taken a 
 dangerous leap, which several of the field declined ; he 
 saw a fine country before him, with his friend in the same 
 field with the hounds, and only one field in advance of 
 himself :— " I'll go till I fall," said he to himself, and 
 strictly did he keep his word. Fence after fence was 
 cleared by him, in the company of a chosen few ; but, as 
 yet, he had not been observed by Sir John Inkleton. An 
 accidental occurrence discovered him. The fence exactly 
 in Sir John's line being impracticable from its height and 
 strength, he was obliged to diverge to his right, to one 
 corner of the field, where the generality of fences are 
 practicable ; when, sailing away on the headland, he 
 espied Frank Eaby approaching. There was no time for 
 words, the chase being forward at the moment, and some 
 lost time to be made up ; so putting Petronius at some 
 rails, he was landed in the next field, with the hounds in 
 the one beyond it. When in the act of clearing these 
 rails, however, he saw under him a ditch, of enormous 
 depth and breadth, and, fearing that Frank's mare might 
 not be equal to it, he waved his hand to him, as a signal 
 not to attempt it. The signal was made in vain ; Frank 
 rode at it, and cleared it, with only the momentary loss 
 of a stirrup. Sir John began to feel alarm. "What 
 will Mr. Raby — what will Lady Charlotte say to me," 
 muttered he to himself, " if this boy meets with an 
 accident ? Still, what is to be done I I cannot lose my 
 place with the hounds ; and I doubt whether anything I 
 may say to him will stop him." 
 
84 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 Onward they went, over a very deep vale, witli a breast- 
 high scent, taking fences high and stiff, and many of the 
 field shaken off. At length they approached the Stark, 
 according to Sir John's prediction ; and it was apparent 
 to those who knew the country for some time before they 
 came close to it, by the large willow trees on its banks, 
 whose flourishing condition showed that they were luxuriat- 
 ing in the soil which l)est suits them — a black bog. 
 
 " Now what is to be done here ? " said Sir John, once 
 more, to himself ; and he had the lead of the field at the time. 
 " / will have it just where yonder blackthorn-bush is grow- 
 ing on the bank, and that is sure to be the soundest part, 
 in my view ; but Frank will not be up to that trick. I'll 
 wave my hand to him, not to attempt it. " Don't come, 
 don't come ! " roared the baronet ; " you'll be in if you 
 do " ; and Frank was not out of hearing at the time ; but 
 he might as well have made such a request to the waves 
 at the flood of a spring-tide, and at it he gallantly went. 
 The trick of the blackthorn-bush, however, was beyond 
 Frank's experience in the art of riding to hounds ; so 
 putting his mare to the left of it, where the ground was 
 rotten and tender, she fell on her head, on alighting — 
 although she cleared the water — and gave him an easy fall. 
 
 " Bravo, by the heavens ! " exclaimed Sir John ; " he is 
 up again, and no harm done ; what a rider will that lad 
 make ! " 
 
 In the next field but three, the hounds came to a check, 
 when an ^claircissement took place. 
 
 "Why, Frank," said the baronet, "you are a very 
 pretty fellow ; what have you done with old Preston, on 
 Skylark?" 
 
 " Oh," replied Frank, " I have not seen him since the 
 hounds left the wood. I saw you turn down the left-hand 
 riding, and, as I thought I heard the hounds turn that 
 way too, I followed you." 
 
 "But, Frank," inquired Sir John earnestly, "are you 
 sure you are not hurt, for you got a devil of a roll at the 
 Stark?" 
 
 " Not a bit," answered Frank ; " it was not the mare's 
 fault, for she cleared the water well." 
 
 " Yes, Frank," continued Sir John, " she fell from the 
 want of a little more support than you could give her 
 when she landed in that soft ground, almost a bog. But, 
 upon my word, you must not ride yet at such places as 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 85 
 
 you have in this run, or you will break your neck some 
 day. And the new leathers, what a pickle they are in, 
 and how they will tell tales when you get home ! Lady 
 
 Charlotte will " " Oh ! " exclaimed Frank, " they will 
 
 know nothing about it ; they shall not see me till I am 
 dressed for dinner." 
 
 At this moment the hounds hit off their fox, and went 
 on, but not at best pace. In fact, they were brought to 
 slow hunting, at which Mr. AYarde's hounds ever have 
 been so conspicuous ; and the attention of Frank was 
 riveted to them. 
 
 At the end of an hour and thirty- five minutes, the 
 scent mending towards the finish, and "the hounds running 
 from scent to view, the fox was in Bob Forfeit's hand, and 
 his brush given to Frank Raby by Mr. Warde himself, 
 who was delighted at the sight of so promising a young 
 sportsman in his country ; indeed, he honoured him with 
 peculiar notice. 
 
 Sir John being engaged to dine that day at the Abbey, 
 Frank and himself proceeded homeward together, but not 
 a word could be heard of " old Preston," nor, indeed, of a 
 good many more of the field, who had been stopped by 
 the Stark brook. 
 
 In the course of the evening, the health of Mr. Warde 
 being drunk, himself and his hounds became the topics of 
 conversation ; and thus did Sir John Inkleton speak of 
 them : — 
 
 "It may be presumptuous, perhaps, in me," said this 
 sporting and gentlemanlike young baronet, "to give a 
 decided opinion of a pack of foxhounds, it being evident 
 that my experience has been chiefly confined to those I 
 hunted with when at Oxford, and very good they w^ere. 
 Still, there is something in the character of Warde's 
 hounds which strikes the eye, and fixes the attention of 
 even a common and inexperienced observer, previously to 
 seeing them at work, as being animals superior of their 
 kind, as respects shape and power. Their style of hunting 
 is equal to their high form ; and as you masters of 
 harriers," addressing himself here to Mr. Raby, "pride 
 yourselves on overcoming difficulties in chase, and hunting 
 your game to death, under the most unfavourable circum- 
 stances, I wish you had been with us to-day. There were 
 many obstacles in our way : — First, the scent was ex- 
 cellent in the burst, because the fox ran straight, and 
 
86 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 he had not too much the start of us. Secondly, the 
 country was excellent, until after we crossed the Stark, 
 when a change of soil occurred, which is much against 
 hounds in chase. Thirdly, we were twice brought to 
 check by sheep, which, having a good fox on foot, threw 
 us again behind. Then, to crown all, we had rather an 
 unusual occurrence in that country — four fallows to cross 
 in succession, which required the most patient hunting to 
 enable us to hold on. 
 
 " The finish, however, was a glorious one. Bothered by 
 the thirty-five minutes' burst, and a good hour's close 
 hunting afterwards, the fox tried the earths at Hamden 
 Wood, and finding them shut, laid himself down in the 
 cover, and broke before the pack in view, having been 
 beautifully hunted to his point. In the space of thirteen 
 minutes, as fast as foot could fall, we turned him up in 
 the open, as your son Frank can attest." 
 
 Here Mr. Raby looked at his son, evidently with feelings 
 of satisfaction, but deemed it prudent not to hazard a 
 word ; and Sir John proceeded with his remarks. 
 
 " Then look at Mr. Warde himself. Putting the sports- 
 man out of the question, what a true specimen he is of the 
 old English gentleman. How amusing is his conversation ; 
 how playful his wit ; how manly his exterior ; and yet, 
 how polished are his manners when in contact with 
 polished society ! How unfortunate it is that he is so 
 heavy ; for horses can scarcely be found to carry him well 
 up to his hounds, over this very deep country." 
 
 " Was Henry Warde out to-day ? " inquired Mr. Raby. 
 
 "He was," replied Sir John; "he rode his famous 
 horse. Star, for which, although a roarer, he has refused 
 the immense price of 600 guineas. It is the only instance, 
 I believe, on record, of a horse, with that defect, being 
 esteemed so valuable as a hunter," 
 
 "I conclude," continued Mr. Raby, "that you often 
 visit the headquarters of Mr. Warde's hunt ? " 
 
 " Why," answered Sir John, " they lie rather wide of 
 me ; but 1 am occasionally induced to do so by the 
 pleasant society I meet with. Then, again, wherever 
 John Warde is, there is sure to be mirth and fun, and 
 the living is very good at the club. Indeed, lie told me 
 this morning, in his usual droll style, that 'everything 
 there was very good hut the reckoning.' '' 
 
 "Ah! ah V' observed Mr. Raby, "that is John Warde 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 87 
 
 to a T ; there is a gaiety of heart and lightness of spirit 
 about him, which I have never found to the same extent 
 in any other man ; and it adds much to his popularity, 
 that he has a joke ready at hand for everyone. But it is 
 not the reckoning at a hunting-club that can hurt either 
 Warde or you. I do not know a better manager than he 
 is ; and as for yourself, Inkleton, if you steer clear of 
 that accursed vice, gambling, you have enough for your 
 enjoyment of all the fun this world can afford you. 
 Neither your hunting, nor your coaching, nor your house- 
 keeping, good as it is, can hurt you. You will, I am sure, 
 pardon this remark from a man much older than yourself, 
 and one who entertains for you a sincere regard, not only 
 on your own account, but as the son of a valued friend." 
 
 "No fear," replied Sir John; "I never lost £100 at 
 any game in my life ; and as I know not one of my friends 
 or acquaintance that is a gainer, but many who are losers 
 by gambling, I mean to steer clear of it. In fact, I 
 detest your professed gamesters ; their hearts are as hard 
 as stones, and as cold too ; and they would rob their own 
 brothers if they could." 
 
 On the following morning, Sir John took his departure 
 from the Abbey, but not without having obtained a 
 promise from Frank, to visit him before he went to 
 Oxford. 
 
 CHAPTER YI 
 
 College life, with some sketches of men and manners at Oxford, in 
 the latter part of the last century — Bibiuy Meeting in its 
 palmy days. 
 
 HAYING assumed the manly gown, we now find the 
 young Rabys at the University of Oxford — cele- 
 brated for making gentlemen as well as scholars ; one of 
 the two great luminaries of the intellectual world ; and, 
 despite of the cavils against it, one of the brightest jewels 
 in the British Crown. We find them occupying handsome 
 rooms in Peckwater, gentlemen-commoners on the books, 
 and with an allowance of £600 per annum to each for 
 their expenses, it being the wish of their father, and also 
 of their uncle, who contributed towards it, that they 
 should not only make a respectable figure in the 
 
88 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 University, but tliat thev should have no cause for having 
 demands upon them when they left it. Their establish- 
 ments were suitable to their means. Andrew contented 
 himself with two saddle-horses, passing under the 
 denomination of hacks, and consigned to the care of 
 Seckham, the livery-stable keeper, reserving the entire 
 use of his servant for his own personal wants ; whereas 
 Frank had his two hunters and his hack in a private 
 stable of his own, and looked after by an experienced 
 man, who had been brought up, under Spencer, in the 
 hunting stables at the Abbey. 
 
 And now let me introduce to the reader my hero's 
 college friend, Hargrave. He was the son of a London 
 merchant, educated at Rugby, and therefore totally un- 
 known to Frank Raby previously to their meeting at 
 Christchurch. But they were kindred spirits, and, 
 according with the vulgar phrase, "soon took to each 
 other." And there was some similiarity in their per- 
 sonal appearance, at least in their personal character. 
 So far from there being anything of the Androgynes 
 about them — the term dandij was unknown in those days, 
 and it would be well that it had never been called into 
 use : they were plain and rather peculiar in their dress, 
 somewhat approaching to the contrary extreme, with the 
 exception of not losing sight of cleanliness, and what is 
 called neatness in their dress and appointments. In fact, 
 their appearance was gentlemanlike and sportsmanlike at 
 the same time — not an everyday combination at that 
 period ; and before the end of the second term they were 
 pointed at, when together in the streets, as the two 
 best horsemen in the L'niversity. Hargrave's stud con- 
 sisted but of two thoroughly accomplished hunters ; and, 
 like Frank Raby, he had them, under his own lock and 
 key, in one of the quietest lanes in the town. Moreover, 
 his judgment was considered so good in everything relating 
 to hunting, as well as in the management of his horses, 
 that he was generally appealed to as an authority on all 
 disputed points amongst the Nimrods of the L^niversity — 
 at all events, amongst those with whom he was in any way 
 associated. 
 
 And how happened it that Hargrave, the son of a 
 London merchant, should have become so accomplished 
 in field sports — for he was an excellent shot, as well as 
 initiated to the noble science of the chase ? The cjuestion 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 89 
 
 is easily replied to. His father, who was himself a 
 siDortsman, had a seat and estate in Essex, and had entered 
 him when young to hounds, and to those of one of the 
 best and most zealous sportsmen of his own or any other 
 days — the renowned Mr. Charles Newman. Again, the 
 country hunted by him was one likely to make a man 
 both a sportsman and a horseman, being full of large 
 covers, very strongly fenced, and noted for the stoutness 
 of its foxes. At an early age, however, few %vent better 
 over it than young Hargrave did, on a small thorough-bred 
 horse, which went by the name of The Phenomenon ; and 
 he was looked upon in the neighbourhood as likely to 
 shine, at some future period, in a better country than 
 Essex, although famous for the stoutness of its foxes. 
 
 From what has been said of Hargrave, it is scarcely 
 necessary to state that he was acquainted v/ith all the sport- 
 ing characters, noble and ignoble, Oxford then could boast 
 of, and that, by virtue of his seniority in the University, 
 he had the honour of introducing them to Frank Raby. 
 Amongst these was a very celebrated character whose 
 name was Will Stuart, and of whom a short notice must 
 be taken. He was, in the first place, one of the hand- 
 somest fellows in the country ; of robust form withal ; 
 and declared by himself, and very generally believed, to 
 be descended somehow from the royal house of Stuart. 
 But his occupations could scarcely be called royal — at all 
 events, not in the modern acceptation of that word. He 
 was a deer-stealer, a dog- stealer, a pond-robber, and a 
 poacher in all ways, from a pheasant to a jack-snipe ; in 
 fact, he would accommodate his employers in any way, 
 provided they paid him well. But Stuart's/orfe lay in the 
 difficult art of persuasion, of which the following is one 
 rather remarkable example : — 
 
 "Won't you buy this capital dog of me ?" said he to a 
 young man who told him he considered him too dear by 
 at least two guineas. 
 
 " Not at that price," replied the young man. 
 
 " Then," resumed Billy, "you consider two guineas an 
 object when the ' maximum of excellence ' is to be obtained, 
 as you gentlemen calls it. Now, when you comes to take 
 your degree, I'll tell you what they'll say to you : they'll 
 tell you, that a little more studying would have put you in 
 the first class ; but for want of that little^ you'll be no- 
 where." And so it turned out. 
 
go THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 Amongst the ignoble sciences patronised by Stuart, and 
 in which he much desired to have initiated Frank Kaby, 
 was the very ignoble one of dog-fighting. Ignoble as it is, 
 however, our hero wished to witness it, and was conducted 
 to the pit by Stuart, the owner of one of the dogs, who 
 had been the victor in several battles, and had only been 
 beaten once. His competitor was also a formidable one, 
 weighing thirty-six pounds, which was two pounds less 
 than Stuart's, and, as such, inferior to him in one respect. 
 His game, however, was notorious, and it was only 
 shillings for choice — in other words, guineas to pounds — 
 between the two. 
 
 I shall not disgust my readers with a description of the 
 contest between two noble animals, whose services were 
 intended for far better purposes. Let it suffice to say 
 that, as it was the first, so it was the last exhibition of 
 this sort that Frank Raljy witnessed, and still he did 
 not regret having witnessed it. Exclusive of the courage 
 displayed by the dogs, during a contest of upwards of 
 half an hour, the means taken by their handlers to in- 
 crease that courage excited his astonishment, if it did not 
 produce pleasure. There is no necessity for recapitulating 
 them ; but it appeared that one index to the probaljle 
 result of the fight was the position of the animal's tail. 
 If erect, he was still undaunted : if inclined to droop, his 
 pluck was doubted, and the betting immediately turned 
 against him. The position of the tail, however, is the 
 general barometer of the dog's mettle. Witness Shak- 
 speare at a bear- fight : — 
 
 "Oft have I seen a hot, o'erweeBing cur, 
 Run back and bite, because he was withheld ; 
 Who, having suffered with the bear's fell jjaw, 
 Ilath clapt his tail between his legs, and cried.'' 
 
 There was another species of sporting, and one very 
 much in fashion in those days, in which Frank Raby was 
 initiated by Will Stuart — the aristocratic one of cock- 
 fighting ; and aristocratic it may certainly be called, 
 confirming the truth of the assertion that, although the 
 vulgar borrow vices from the great, the great occasionally 
 condescend to borrow them, in their turn, from the 
 vulgar. It must, however, be admitted that, in point of 
 respectability — if such a term can be allowed in this case — 
 there is scarcely a comijarison between the operations of 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN gi 
 
 the cock and the dog-pit, the former having been long the 
 resort of many of our acconiplislied noblemen and country 
 gentlemen, still standing its ground to a certain extent, 
 whilst the latter is nearly aljandoned. Whether it may 
 last another century is a matter of some speculation, from 
 the alternations which occur in the taste for all national 
 sport ; but that it has stocjd the test of ages is a fact too 
 well established to admit of a doubt, as well as that a moral 
 has been drawn from it. Themistocles's famous address- 
 to the Athenian soldiers affords one, and a signal one, too.. 
 On their march to battle he halted them, and directed 
 their attention to two cocks that were fighting, descanting 
 on their determination to conquer or die ; and ordered 
 cock-fighting to be afterwards annually exhibited in the 
 camp. The Romans likewise admired the martial spirit 
 of the gamecock ; and it is even asserted that Caesar's 
 troops introduced cock- lighting in England, during their 
 temporary invasion of the country, and that they even 
 made quails to fight. Still, Columella calls it a Grecian. 
 diversion, and speaks of it in terms of ignominy, as an 
 expensive amusement (which it is), unljecoming the frugal 
 housekeeper, and often attended with the ruin of the 
 parties who follow it. The most offensive part of tlii-^ 
 practice, however, is now fortunately done away with — I 
 mean the " Welsh main," as it is called, which consisted in 
 causing thirty-one of thirty-two cocks to be slaughtered, 
 ])efore the surviving one was to be proclaimed the victor I 
 
 Although Frank Raby had seen some few exhibitions of 
 fighting-cocks in his father's neighbourhood, and at Eton, 
 he had never seen what is called "a main" fought; but 
 liaving a wish to see one, he accompanied his friend 
 Hargrave to the Oxford cockpit, and was introduced by 
 him to the celebrated Bob Dolly, who was at that time 
 the proprietor of it. The particulars of this main need 
 not be given ; but, at the expiration of it, the following con- 
 versation took place between the two young sportsmen : — 
 
 "Well, Frank," said Hargrave (for Frank was he always 
 called by his intimates), " what do you think of cock- 
 fighting, now that vou have seen it nearly in its best 
 form ? " 
 
 " Why," replied Frank, " I have scarcely made up my 
 mind sufficiently on the subject, to give you a decided 
 answer. I am, however, prepared to say that although I 
 cannot go the length that you do, when you say, you look. 
 
92 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 upon two cocks, in tlie arena of a pit, in the light of two 
 champions of olden times, who rush to the charge for glory- 
 only, and imagine that, in the shrill and animating note of 
 their crowing, you hear the herald's clarion, still, I consider 
 the first 'setting to,' as it is called, of two highly-bred 
 gamecocks, one of the most interesting sights that animated 
 nature can exhibit. Their determined courage throughout 
 the battle, and their invincible spirit, to conquer or die, 
 are something more than natural, and seem to justify the 
 absurd notions entertained by the ancients of these birds, 
 not only in calling them sacred to the sun, but making 
 them to participate of a certain solar divinity, and to be 
 thus feared — at all events, reverenced — even by the lion. 
 But look at the cock in his natural state — a state of 
 freedom. What a beautiful animal he is ! What a 
 pattern of a warrior, a husband, and a fine gentleman ! 
 See him clap his wings and crow ; how proud of his 
 courage does he appear ; how gallant he is to his females ; 
 how jealous of a rival ; and how he is formed for con- 
 tending with him, for he is all muscle and bone ! Then 
 observe what language he has at his command ! If he 
 finds food, he calls a favourite female to partake of it ; if 
 a danger appears, he bids his family beware ; and he has 
 his amorous phrases as well as his terms of defiance and of 
 battle. But his crowing — why, he may be said to invoke 
 the sun ; indeed, Shakspeare calls him ' the trumpet to 
 the morn' ; and many other poets have borrowed their 
 images from him — 
 
 ' The crested cock whose clarion sounds the silent hours ; ' 
 
 amongst the most beautiful of them, as ' the 'larum of the 
 country labourer.' " 
 
 "Well said, Frank Raby," exclaimed Hargrave ; " upon 
 my soul you would make a good Methodist preacher, but I 
 much doubt your ever becoming a cocker." 
 
 " I don't know what to say on that point yet," replied 
 Frank. " There is much to admire in a battle, and still 
 more in the system throughout ; but I feel that there is 
 something both disgusting and cruel in a long-protracted 
 battle, however indicative it may be of the invincible 
 courage of the animal, and however productive of a moral, 
 as Mr. Wyndham and others have considered it to be. 
 But as you are such an advocate for cock-fighting, let me 
 hear what you have to say in defence of it." 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 93 
 
 " Why, to tell you the truth," returned Hargrave, " I 
 think tliat, next to finding a fox, the excitement produced 
 at the onset of a battle between cocks, exceeds any that I 
 have hitherto experienced. I, therefore, must say I am 
 very partial to cock-fighting as a sport or pastime. But I 
 cannot help looking at it in another light. It appears to 
 me that, from the very extraordinary circumstances and 
 facts developed in pursuance of the whole system — from 
 the breeding the birds, to bringing them to the pit to 
 fight, as well as their conduct in the fight — it must have 
 been intended to excite the curiosity, and promote the 
 researches of man in the w^onderful operations of nature ; 
 if not, in this individual instance, to serve as an example 
 to be imitated in certain situations in life. For instance, 
 consider the form of what we so properly call the game- 
 cock : he is not only, as you have described him, composed 
 of little else but muscle and bone ; but, looking at his 
 ruddy complexion, his full breast, his lofty neck, the 
 strength of the beam of his leg, and length of his thigh, 
 his large quick eye, and strong beak — crooked and big at 
 its setting on — and his murderous spurs, it is evident that 
 he was intended to fight. But why so ? — why should he be 
 armed with such murderous weapons, and endowed with 
 such formidable strength and courage, merely to protect 
 himself, or his own race, from others of his own race ? There 
 can be no reason at all for this in an animal which it is evi- 
 dent was designed to be domesticated. The fact is, he is born 
 a fighter, and absolutely begins to spur at an adversary soon 
 after he leaves the egg ; at all events, before his spurs are 
 grown. Putting him to fight, then, is not having recourse 
 to a force against nature, but an evident indulgence of his 
 natural propensity, for there can be no ofl'ence given to 
 him by the bird pitted against him, which he has never 
 seen till taken out of his bag. This is also proved by the 
 well-known fact, that cocks at their walks, and at full 
 liberty, will seek each other for battle as far as they can 
 hear each other's crowing. In fact, there appears to be 
 in them an insatiable thirst to destroy each other, which 
 does not appear in other parts of the creation. We hear 
 of carnivorous animals depopulating the places they 
 frequent of every other inhabitant, but there is no instance, 
 except in the cock, of a desire to exterminate their own 
 species." 
 
 "Then you really believe it was intended that the 
 
94 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 courage of these birds should he displayed to man as an 
 example 1 " 
 " I do." 
 
 " And in the method pursued in Bob Dolly's cockpit ? " 
 "Ah, there you press me too hard now. I can only say 
 that, if they do fight at all, the arming them with artificial 
 weapons is the very reverse of cruelty, for the contest is 
 sooner ended, and their suff'erings trilling in comparison 
 to what they would have been, had they fought with their 
 own natural weapons, by lacerating and bruising each 
 other in every tender part. And hence may be formed 
 a comjDarison between the duellist and the pugilist. The 
 duellist meets his adversary like the gamecock, voluntarily, 
 and with artificial weapons also ; whereas the pugilist is 
 urged to fight merely by a prospect of gain, and to fight 
 with natural weapons, receiving blows and bruises, 
 frequently to the very point of death, to amuse a 
 crowd of spectators. I am inclined, then, to think that, 
 after all, cock-fighting is one of the least cruel of all 
 our sports in which the lives of animals are put to the 
 risk. But it is not so much the mere act of fighting, and 
 the display of courage in the gamecock, that excite my 
 admiration : it is, as I said before, the entire system 
 throughout, and the wonderful phenomena that occur 
 in breeding and training these birds. We will commence 
 with the breeding, and the importance of similarity of 
 feather. Where is the philosopher who can discover this 
 necessity ? — but so it is. Several attempts were made, 
 some years back, to cross the Cheshire piles with f)iles 
 from other countries, and those of great note ; but, from 
 a trifling dissimilarity of feather, the breed was very 
 inferior to the original one. But even in the Cheshire 
 piles, the necessity arises of not mixing the dark and 
 light- coloured ones together. Then, again, the fidelity 
 with which uniformity of colour is preserved, is no less 
 astounding. A celebrated breeder of cocks thus writes 
 on this subject: — 'Fifteen years or more I had enjoyed 
 an invariable production of the most complete black-reds 
 bred by any amateur, without a single instance of devia- 
 tion during that period ; but, on the sixteenth year, I 
 had several light piles in one hatch. No change of eggs 
 could possibly have taken place, nor was there a shadow 
 of doubt of interference with any other cock. A well- 
 regulated account of my cocks, however, enabled me to 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 95 
 
 ascertain that there had been a pile in the cross five years 
 previous to my having them from Shropshire ; so that 
 they held highly reyular for twenty-one years, not only in 
 plumage, but in every desired requisite.' 
 
 " It appears," continued Hargrave, "that, had this breeder 
 gone on in a deviation from the original colour, he would 
 have had spangles, as party-coloured fowls are called ; but, 
 by persevering afterwards in selecting the darkest-coloured 
 fowls, those in fact most resembling his original attachment, 
 or sort, he preserved not only their feather, but their con- 
 stitution, which is a great consideration with cockers. Now 
 here we have an analogy between the florist and the cocker. 
 A run flower is one which has the inherent vice of chang- 
 ing colour, with little chance of regaining its primitive 
 and valuable brilliancy ; consequently it is discarded by 
 the florist, as spangled pullets would be by the cocker. 
 
 " There are, also, independent of feather, some strange 
 circumstances, arising from the selection of the parentage 
 of game fowls, and these of the very same breed, one, in 
 fact, which has been proved to be good in blood, feather, 
 and heel. For example : cocks bred from a father and 
 daughter have run away, whereas those from a mother 
 and son have stood to be killed by inches. 
 
 " Perhaps the best proof of the difficulties of training 
 cocks to fight, is to be found in the very few persons 
 who have excelled in this branch of their art. Who 
 would believe it possible that, although a feeder should 
 be able to get a pen of cocks fit to fight for two successive 
 days, he should not be able to have them fit to fight 
 on the third, and yet his competitor on the sod shall 
 be able to do so ? This, however, is a very common case. 
 In fact, the whole system of feeding cocks to fight, 
 reducing or increasing their weight, but still retaining the 
 highest pitch of condition and vigour, is one of consummate 
 art, and one with which that of training the race-horse 
 can bear no comparison as to the difficulty of it. Then, 
 again, what a true picture of life is a cockpit ! Depend 
 upon it, Frank Raby, you will never have seen human 
 nature fully and faithfully displayed in the rough, until 
 you shall have seen it in a cockpit, at such places as 
 Chester, Manchester — in short, anywhere bordering on 
 the north. Amongst noblemen and gentlemen of the 
 highest character and respectability, and who have made 
 cocking their pursuit through life,*^ you will see men of 
 
96 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 the coarsest exterior, and in the meanest garb, outwitting 
 them by odds in their judgment in selecting the winners 
 before the battles commence, and exhibiting indescribable 
 acuteness in discovering injuries afterwards, which, of 
 course, they turn to account before many of their superiors 
 are aware of them. This extreme quickness of sight, by 
 which what is called a ' cut throat ' is discovered previoiisly 
 to its effects becoming visible, is scarcely to be expected from 
 a heavy and dull-looking mechanic — perhaps a blacksmith, 
 or a collier, who may have walked fifty miles to the pit — 
 but such is often the case, and, of course, he reaps his 
 reward by immediately backing the other cock." 
 
 " What do you mean by a ' cut throat 1 ' I never saw 
 a cock's throat cut in fighting." 
 
 " Nor I neither. It is a body blow, but, having wounded 
 a vital part, is so called from the fact of the blood soon 
 finding its way into the throat, and thence ejected by the 
 mouth, consequently impeding respiration. Cocks in very 
 high condition will occasionally ' throw it off,' as the term 
 is, and go on ; but it generally betokens a speedy termina- 
 tion of the battle. The setting or handling of the cocks 
 is also a most difficult art ; in fact, I have no hesitation 
 in saying, that not only does a cockpit include more 
 natural talent, in the rough, than any other place in which 
 men of all descriptions are given to congregate, but that, 
 unless a man be a man of talent, he has no business to 
 enter one." 
 
 Frank listened attentively to this somewhat philosophical 
 description of cocking and the cockpit, and whether or not 
 he became a cocker will hereafter be shown. He, how- 
 ever, reminded Hargrave that the late Mr. Wyndham — 
 then in the zenith of his reputation, as one of our dis- 
 tinguished senators, and distinguished also for his humanity 
 — had given it as his opinion that the conflict between 
 inferior animals incited the courage of a nation ; and, 
 in support of his hypothesis, availed himself of the 
 character of the English people, who, he said, have ever 
 been as remarkable for courage, or what is vulgarly called 
 " pluck," as for their predilection for such conflicts, cock- 
 fighting especially. 
 
 The first public exhibition of our hero, during his 
 residence at Christchurch, was on Burford race-course, 
 in Oxfordshire, on which was held what was called the 
 Bibury meeting, continued (though in very diminished 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 97 
 
 form) to the present time. But these were Bibury's very 
 best days. In addition to the encouragement given to it 
 by the patronage and presence of George lY., then Prince 
 of Wales, who was received by the Earl of Sherborne, 
 for the week, at his seat in the neighbourhood, and who 
 every day made his appearance on the course as a private 
 gentleman, on his favourite cropped roan hack, of which 
 he was as fond as the impetuous Hotspur of his " crop-ear 
 roan," which, in an equestrian transport, he called his 
 " throne," with merely a groom in attendance, and in 
 familiar conversation with all who had the privilege of 
 addressing him, there was a galaxy of gentlemen jockeys, 
 who alone rode at this meeting, which has never since 
 been equalled. Amongst them were the present Duke 
 of Dorset, who always rode for the Prince ; His Grace's 
 brother, the late Hon. George Germain ; the late Mr. 
 Delme Eadcliffe— who had the management of His Royal 
 Highness's racing stud, until his decease as George IV. ; — 
 the late Lords Charles Somerset and Milsington, and 
 Lord Delamere, then Mr. Cholmondeley ; Sir Tatton 
 Sykes, then Mr. Sykes ; Messrs. Hawkes, Bullock, Worral, 
 George Pigot, Lindow, Lowth, Musters, Probyn, &c., all 
 first-raters, and some of them in as constant practice as 
 any of the regular jockeys. And a curious fact may here 
 be mentioned, and of which Frank Raby was a witness. 
 The Prince of Wales had a horse called Ploughater, by 
 Trumpeter, out of an Evergreen mare, and bred by Lord 
 Clermont, which was extremely difficult to ride, from 
 his hard pulling, and awkward position of his head in 
 his gallop. The Duke of Dorset, however, rode him in 
 several successful races, but at length broke a blood- 
 vessel by the exertion. Having lost a great quantity 
 of blood, His Grace did not appear on the course the 
 next day, but on the following one, to the surprise of 
 all persons who saw him, he not only appeared, but 
 insisted upon mounting Ploughater again, who had to 
 walk over the course for a Stakes. 
 
 There was something especially jockey-like in the 
 appearance of the Duke of Dorset, his brother Germain, 
 and Delme Radclifte, not only when mounted on race- 
 horses, but when seen riding on the course, on their hacks, 
 often with their saddles buckled to their sides, after the 
 manner of the professional men. Indeed, it is much to 
 be doubted whether there was so much as two pounds in 
 
 7 
 
98 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 weight difference between the performance of that trio, 
 as well as of Mr. Hawkes, and the best of the jockeys of 
 those days. Hawkes's forte was as much making play in 
 running, as in what is called a waiting race, by his excellent 
 judgment of pace. In fact, he was a perfect horseman, 
 either over a course or a country. George Pigot was 
 likewise very good in his saddle, but had not the head of 
 Hawkes in a near race. Sir Tatton Skyes was a second 
 Hawkes, cool, and with a beautiful hand. Of his cool- 
 ness, perhaps, nothing can beat what I am now about to 
 relate. When riding a match, at York, his horse bolted, 
 and, falling over some rails, he, of course, fell to the 
 ground. His antagonist, having observed the accident, 
 was cantering gently along towards the winning-post, 
 supposing the race to be his own ; when, within a few 
 3'ards of home, he was passed by a horseman, in a coat 
 and hat, who wished him a pleasant ride. This was Sir 
 Tatton, who had borrowed the coat and hat from a 
 bystander, when he fell, and thus deceived his competitor, 
 who mistook him for one of the crowd. So fond was Sir 
 Tatton of riding races, that he has been known to ride a 
 hundred miles for that sole purpose, and returmto York- 
 shire on his hack immediately on the event being decided. 
 Of Mr. Bullock — commonly called Nando Bullock, his 
 name having been Orlando — some amusing anecdotes are 
 recorded, in reference to his passion for race-riding. The 
 following is a description of a race he once rode and won. 
 
 "I turned the last post," said he, '•'■ snug as murder; 
 now, said I to myself, the pantomime is going to begin, 
 and I think I shall beat Mr. Merryman." (There was a 
 horse called Merryman in the race, and heavily backed to 
 win.) Again, when he broke his leg and thigh in a race, 
 by his horse running against a post, he absolutely spurred 
 the persons who were carrying him upstairs to bed, with 
 his other leg, so little daunted was he by the mishap. 
 He met his death by an accident, at last, and was much 
 regretted by his friends, for his great good humour. 
 
 Lords Charles Somerset, Milsington, and Delamere, 
 rode much at Bibury, and well — Lord Charles Somerset 
 especially — although they were all above jockey height, 
 as also was Mr. Musters ; but Mr. AVorral, one of the best 
 of them, was cast in the jockey mould. 
 
 But to return to our young sportsman at Oxford. 
 Having engaged a tandem for the purpose, with four of 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 99 
 
 the best gig-liorses that the Oxford stables could produce, 
 Frank Raby and his friend Hargrave thus arranged their 
 plans for the approaching Bibury Meeting. Tliev sent 
 two of the horses to Witney, and by thus relieving those 
 that brought them from Oxford, they were enabled to go 
 to, and return from, the course, and be in their college at 
 night — driving alternate stages, for the furtherance of 
 their mutual improvement in tliis hazardous occupation, 
 as w^ell as for their mutual pleasure ; and all went well 
 for the first three days. Having a capital leader over the 
 last ground, who wanted nothing but holding, and keep- 
 ing his head straight, these aspiring youths dashed through 
 the crowd, threading the carriages and horses on the road, 
 with such skill and dexterity as to attract much notice — 
 and, at length, that of the Prince, who had been watching 
 their manceuvres on the race-course. 
 
 " Who are they ? " inquired His Royal Highness of Mr. 
 Lake. 
 
 " I do not know their names, sir," replied Mr. Lake, 
 " but I understand they are Christchurch men." 
 
 " Ask their names," resumed the Prince ; " they will do, 
 in time, that is to say — if they doiiH break their necks." 
 
 I w^ell remember the scenes at Burford, and all the 
 neighbouring towns, after the races of the day were over. 
 That at Burford beggars description, for, independently 
 of the bustle occasioned b}^ the accommodations necessary 
 for the Club who were domiciled in the town, the con- 
 course of persons, of all sorts and degrees, and all in w^ant 
 of something, was immense. Our young Oxonians, how- 
 ever, had taken care to provide for themselves in this 
 respect ; and with a few more collegians, and kindred 
 spirits too, had formed a select party of themselves, and, 
 by paying the piper well, had no reason to complain. 
 But now for the finale to this ^^ lark,''' I might say, but 
 that word was not used in those days, in this sense, at 
 least. On the last day of the meeting, all having hitherto 
 gone smoothly, an awkward mishap occurred, but which 
 w^ill, in a great measure, be accounted for by the scene 
 that took place when the tandem came to the door with 
 Frank Raby on the bench. 
 
 " Come along, Hargrave," said Frank, " I am sure you 
 have had wine enough; and, as foi'^^nyself, I can scarcely 
 tell the leader from the wheeler, besides, you know this 
 mare won't stand much longer ere she begins kicking, and 
 
loo THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 we have only an hour and forty minutes to do the twenty- 
 one miles in." 
 
 " Kick away," said Hargrave, as he came staggering 
 towards the tandem ; " you know I'd rather be upset than 
 not ; who cares for a kicker, with a kicking strap over her 
 back, and a good coachman behind her ? " 
 
 " Many a true word is spoken in jest," says the proverb ; 
 the mare did not kick ; but in descending one of those 
 sharp " pitches," as they are called by coachmen, between 
 Burford and Witney — which, in those days, were often 
 covered with half-broken stone — and at by far too quick 
 a rate, she stepped on one of them, and fell, and was 
 dragged some distance by the leader. But now for the 
 fate of her driver ; he escaped with only some slight 
 bruises, by falling on the mare Avhilst she was being 
 dragged, and rolling thence to the ground ; but Hargrave 
 was not so fortunate. A dislocation of his left shoulder 
 was the result, which, he being a very muscular young 
 man, it required the united strength of four men to 
 reduce — putting him to extreme torture for the time ; 
 neither did he speedily recov^er its effects. 
 
 But there is another proverb which applies well here. 
 " Good comes out of evil ; " as it did in this case. Both 
 these young gentlemen made a solemn vow, on the 
 morrow, that they would never again mount either a 
 tandem or a coach box, at least, not with reins in their 
 hands, when they had drunk too much wine ; and, though 
 they became very celebrated as coachmen, and were 
 occasionally put to rather a severe test, they most 
 religiously adhered to their vow. 
 
 It was reserved to Hogarth to write a scene of furniture. 
 The rake's levee-room ; the nobleman's dining-room ; the 
 apartments of the husband and wife, in Marriage A la 
 mode; the alderman's parlour; the poet's bed-chamber; 
 and many others, are a history of the manners of the age. 
 Nevertheless, as the furniture and other accompaniments 
 of apartments do, in a great measure, describe the char- 
 acters of the persons who inhabit them, I will attempt a 
 brief sketch of the rooms occupied by the two Rabys, at 
 Christchurch, as also those of Hargrave. 
 
 The apartments of Andrew require only a short notice. 
 A bust of Shakspeare was on one table, and one of Sir 
 Isaac Newton on another ; prints of Mr. Pitt and Mr. 
 Fox, and also of Adam Smith, author of the " Theory of 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN loi 
 
 Moral Sentiments," adorned the walls ; and a handsome 
 j)air of globes were on a side-table, together with a large 
 portfolio of maps and drawings of flowers from nature. 
 On his book-shelves were the best editions of the classics — 
 both in English and in the dead languages — as well as 
 the chief historical works of sundry nations and times. 
 Neither were the rooms in which Frank Eaby was domiciled 
 by any means wanting in books, which his uncle had taken 
 care to provide for him, nor were they altogether uselessly 
 bestowed upon him. In fact, he read hard by starts, but 
 wanted the steady apj^lication of his brother, which was 
 essential to cutting a figure in the schools, even in those 
 days when examinations were not over-strict. But the 
 ornaments of these rooms were of a very different char- 
 acter to those of his brother ; and as the taste and inclina- 
 tions of men are displayed by such trifles, it will not be 
 amiss to make mention of them. 
 
 On his mantel-shelf was a beautiful figure of a race- 
 horse, cast in alabaster, and over it hung the good old- 
 fashioned print of Partner, the race-horse, taking a sweat 
 at Newmarket. That of Hambletonian and Diamond had 
 just then been published, and, of course, was to be found 
 here, as well as in many other rooms in this aristocratic 
 College. The celebrated carriage match of Lord March 
 (afterwards Duke of Queensbury), over Newmarket 
 Heath, hung vis a vis to the match between MeynelFs 
 Richmond and Smith Barry's Bluecap, two celebrated 
 foxhounds, over the Beacon course of the same place. The 
 famous prints, " in caricatura," of Dick Knight and the 
 Pytchley Hunt, were also to be seen, as well as an 
 excellent print of Robert Forfeit, so many years hunts- 
 man to the great John "Warde. Tom Oldacre, on Brush, 
 just then published, was likewise in the collection ; as was 
 Sir Thomas Mostyn's favourite foxhound bitch, Lady, with 
 her whelps, a print that is to this day to be seen in half 
 the public-houses in Oxfordshire. There were likewise 
 paintings of Bonny bell and Tyrant, two favourite harriers 
 in his father's pack ; but the deficiency of globes and maps 
 was made up by a plentiful assortment of four-horse and 
 hunting whips, boxing gloves and fishing rods, and sundry 
 other paraphernalia of the sportsman. 
 
 Hargrave's rooms were very similarly adorned. Arthur 
 Wentworth, the earth-stopper, was suspended over his fire- 
 place. A Cheshire pile game-cock was above that ; and 
 
I02 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 in other parts of his sitting-room were the following well- 
 known 2)rints : — A bitch fox and her cubs, by Sartorius ; 
 Humphreys and Mendoza in attitude ; the Phenomena 
 trotting mare ; a portrait of Eclipse, with John Oakley 
 (the only man who could ride him) on his back ; the great 
 Malay cock match ; the York " Highflyer " coach, im- 
 mortalized by Hogarth ; the London and Shrewsbury 
 mail ; Jem Howell, the celebrated coachman of Costar's 
 " Oxford and Brummagem Day," as it was then called ; 
 portraits of Bill Stuart, and Bob Dolly, with his famous 
 dog Nelson, " the cock of the Oxford walk ; " likewise 
 an excellent picture of Squires Draper and Newby, two 
 celebrated Yorkshire sportsmen, representing them in the 
 grey of the morning, opening the door of the kennel. 
 Among the books were some odd numbers of the " Pacing 
 Calendar ; " the first volume of the " Stud Book," the only 
 one then published ; " Isaak Walton, on Angling ; " 
 " Peacham's Complete Gentleman ; " and some numbers 
 of the " Sporting Magazine," a periodical not of much note 
 in those days. 
 
 In his bedroom was a good show of whips, both for 
 hunting and for the road, all made by Mr. Crowther of 
 Swallow Street, the crack man of that day, and who sold 
 them for a crack j)rice. 
 
 "But icere there not always cracTc men?" was the answer 
 Hargrave made to some one who asked him why he gave a 
 guinea for his four- horse whips, when good ones were to 
 be had for half the sum? "You may get them cheaper, 
 doubtless, but where will you get them so good "? Are 
 there more than two men in England, who can make a 
 really good hunting saddle ? " And what else was to be 
 seen in this bachelor's bedroom ? why, not much beyond 
 what was commonly found in a gentleman commoner's 
 bed-chamber at this time, whose only object was to find 
 repose from the fatigues of the day, or to shake off the 
 fumes of bad wine. There was, however, a print of a 
 sleeping Venus, suspended against the wall, with some 
 lines of his own written under it, merely expressive of his 
 high admiration of the human form ; and, pinned to the 
 curtain of his bed, so as to be visible by him when awake, 
 the words diluculd exsurgam legibly written on a slip of 
 white paper. But there was something more than met 
 the eye of a common observer in these words. It was 
 not the mere act of early rising, which these words imply, 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 103 
 
 that stood so high in Mr. Hargrave's estimation ; the fact 
 was, he found, by experience, that by being what is called 
 " a good man at morning chapel," he obtained the credit of 
 being a regular man in his college, whereas, in truth, he 
 was anything but that. Although perfectly free from all 
 vicious propensities, and one of the most popular men at 
 Oxford, at the time, he was what would now be termed 
 " an out-and-out larker," and as often broke through the 
 rules and trammels of the University as any other young 
 gentleman of his day on its books. 
 
 Carthage is said only to have produced one Hannibal ; 
 and great men, in their way, are scarce in all modern com- 
 munities. At the time I am alluding to, very good horse- 
 men over a country were much more rare than they now 
 are ; and there were not more than a dozen in the Uni- 
 versity of Oxford who were entitled to be called such. 
 The very best among them, however, was Hargrave, who 
 united all the good properties essential to riding well after 
 hounds. He possessed great strength, unaccompanied by 
 great weight, not exceeding twelve stone (fourteen pounds 
 to the stone), with his saddle, which is considered the best 
 of all weights for crossing a strong country, and for this 
 reason : the twelve-stone man, independently of his power 
 to assist his horse, to pull open gates, and knock about 
 obstacles of any sort, is almost sure to be mounted on a 
 horse worthy to be called a hunter, that is, a horse of 
 power ; whereas, your nine or ten-stone sportsman is too 
 often mounted on what is called " a nice little horse," to 
 carry his weight ; in other words, a cat-legged weed, not 
 worthy the name of hunter, and which gets knocked back- 
 wards, or turned heels upward, by a strong grower in a 
 hedge, which the horse of a twelve-stone man would drive 
 before him, or break. Then, to use a vulgar expression, 
 Hargrave had the nerves of a bull-dog, in the field, and 
 would turn from no fence that he considered there was a 
 chance to get over when in chase ; but was free from the 
 folly of taking unnecessary leaps, merely to display his 
 horsemanship. And, perhaps, one proof of his good horse- 
 manship may be gathered from this fact, — his horses had 
 both been purchased, at his request, when young and ran:, 
 as the term is, that he might have the task of making 
 them hunters by his own hand ; and capital hunters did 
 he make them, although differing much from each other. 
 Rupert, a large-bodied, sleepy-looking bay gelding, about 
 
I04 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 fifteen hands two inches high, with long shoulders and 
 quarters, and short back, standing over a great deal of 
 ground, upon short and large legs ; wanting nothing in 
 his mouth except a plain snaffle bit, but requiring spurs 
 in his sides over almost every yard that he went ; would 
 leap timber, either fljdng or standing, according to his 
 rider's pleasure ; was one of the best creepers in the world, 
 consequently, seldom got into scrapes ; and wanted no- 
 thing but a turn more speed to make him one of the best 
 hunters in the world. He was, however, as stout as steel 
 and — no small recommendation to an Oxford man's horse 
 — he could " come again," as the grooms say, very quickly, 
 after a hard run, and was good, on the average of sport, 
 for four days in a fortnight ; at all events, for three. 
 
 Topthorn, his other horse, was an animal of a different 
 description. In the first place, he was better bred ; and, 
 in the next, in a form altogether different to Rupert. 
 He was what is called an " up-standing horse," nearly 
 sixteen hands high ; not large-bodied, although an ex- 
 cellent feeder, and with very good legs. As a fencer, he 
 was quite out of the common way, both at height and 
 width, although there was one imperfection in his fencing, 
 from which he derived his name ; and here he was the 
 very reverse of Rupert. He was not only not a creeper 
 — much less a standing leaper — but so far from leaping 
 into a fence, as every hunter ought occasionally to do, 
 when required, he could scarcely be made to go near 
 enough to his fences before he rose at them, so great was 
 his dislike to feel a thorn or brier about his legs. His 
 pace was also far better than Rupert's — good enough, 
 indeed, for any country and any hounds ; he was capital 
 at both timber and water, and, barring the imperfection 
 which gave him his name, one of the most accomplished 
 hunters of his day. This, indeed, may be inferred from 
 the following rather uncommon fact : — A nobleman, 
 residing in Oxfordshire, but then hunting in Leicester- 
 shire, offered him 400 guineas for Topthorn. His answer 
 was laconic, but creditable to him, and may be said to 
 have "given token of a goodly day to-morrow." 
 
 " I shall not take 400 guineas for my horse," said this 
 promising young sportsman. " I am not in debt : and I 
 see no reason why I should not ride a good horse with 
 hounds, as well as his lordship." 
 
 As may naturally be supposed, Hargrave was not only 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 105 
 
 looked to as a pilot in the field, by all the novitiates in the 
 " noble science " at that time in the University ; but Frank 
 Raby, who had been well entered to hounds, previously 
 to his matriculation at Christchurch, looked to him for 
 instruction and improvement. And he need not have 
 gone much farther for instruction : his seat was firm, and 
 altogether good, with his body pliably erect ; his feet 
 well out in front ; the knee nearly straight, and not bent 
 at an angle by short stirrup-leathers, as it was too often 
 seen in those days ; on the contrary, he sat well down 
 upon his fork, with his head up, and, as he said of himself, 
 he rode with a light hand and an easy bit. As for the 
 bay horse, that is to say, Rupert, a child might have 
 almost ridden him to hounds ; but it required a horseman 
 to handle Topthom ; and it was from seeing Hargrave's 
 performance on him, that Frank Raby acquired lessons 
 which he never forgot, and which afterwards perfected 
 him in the horseman's art. 
 
 In proportion to the number of young men of family 
 and fortune rising up in the world, will be the proportion 
 of the various occupations and pursuits which their 
 several inclinations lead them to engage in. That fox- 
 hunting has ever been, and, it is to be hoped, ever will be 
 one, it is scarcely necessary to add ; although, at the time 
 I am alluding to, there were fewer followers of the chase 
 in the Universities than are to be found in them at the 
 present day. In fact, I have already said there were only 
 about a dozen really good workmen, at this period, at 
 Oxford, who kept hunters during term, and who may be 
 said to have done the thing in a truly workman-like style 
 throughout. Amongst them was a commoner of Oriel, who 
 accompanied Hargrave and Frank Raby, on a fine morning 
 in the first week in December, to Oddington Ashes, a 
 favourite cover in the Beaufort Hunt ; their horses having 
 been sent to ChijDping Xorton on the preceding evening, 
 the distance from Oxford being upwards of twenty miles. 
 
 In those days there were not the crowds of horsemen 
 with hounds, composing what is termed " the field," that 
 are now to be seen ; but, on the day of which I am speak- 
 ing, about fifty well-mounted gentlemen and half a dozen 
 farmers were assembled — all having some pretensions to 
 be called sportsmen ; in other words, they were met to- 
 gether for very difterent purposes than riding at, or over, 
 each other, after the manner of our steeple-chase jockeys 
 
io6 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 of these times ; and driving hounds over the scent, as 
 if that instinctive agent, called nose, was by no means 
 necessary to their pursuing it, to the final accomplishment 
 of their object — the death of a stout fox. 
 
 It is unnecessary to relate all the particulars of this 
 day's hunting ; suffice it to say, that a fox was soon found, 
 and, after having taken two deep rings in this justly 
 celebrated cover, broke under the most favourable cir- 
 cumstances ; namely, with the body of the hounds on the 
 scent, and the horsemen where they should be ; not 
 too near, to drive them over the scent, or so far distant 
 from them as to be unable to enjoy them in their work. 
 Still there was one thing unusual in the break. The 
 general run of foxes from Oddington Ashes is, what is 
 called in that country, " up hill ; " that is to say, not down 
 the vale, but either for the woods of Heythrop, or Ditchley, 
 or, as oftentimes, for the forest of Witchwood. Upon this 
 day, however, the fox took a very different course, going 
 straight down the vale for Pain's Furze, near to the 
 town of Moreton-in-Marsh, and thence to Bourton Wood 
 — beyond Bourton-on-the-Hill — now hunted by Lord 
 Segrave. Nor was this regretted by the young Oxonians, 
 although it took them in a contrary direction to their 
 homes. It gave to Frank Eaby, and to the commoner 
 of Oriel — whose name, by-the-by, was Goodall — an 
 opportunity of witnessing the fine horsemanship and 
 good judgment of Hargrave, whom they selected as their 
 pilot in as severe a country as hounds often run over. In 
 the first place, they had the Kingham brook to leap, and 
 the Kingham field to cross, which none but good horses 
 can do, and live with hounds when they are going their 
 best pace, as they did in the run I am alluding to. And 
 it told on the horses that crossed it on this day. It 
 reduced the number that started with the hounds to, at 
 most, one-third ; and the field soon became, what in these 
 days is termed, " most desirably select." But the trial 
 of trials was yet to come. There runs through this rich 
 vale a brook called the Evenload — commonly called the 
 Emload — which not more than one man in twenty would 
 ride at, in those days, nor will more than one man in ten 
 get well over it in^ these. In fact, it is, in many places, 
 all but a stojjper ; in all, a very serious affair for horses a 
 little pumped out by the pace, the banks being far from 
 good, and the water both wide and deep. Now it so 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 107 
 
 happened that, by a lucky turn, Goodall, and a hard- 
 riding parson of that time, arrived first at the brook, and 
 the parson took it in his stroke. Neither did Goodall 
 intend doing otherwise. Taking a good pull at Pineapple 
 (for such was his horse called, in consequence of the deep 
 scoring of his legs, by some merciless operator, with the 
 firing irons) at about a hundred yards from its banks, he 
 sent him manfully at it, but by not extending himself far 
 enough, he dropped short, and fell backwards, with his 
 rider under him, into the stream ! 
 
 " He is in, by heavens," exclaimed Hargrave, who saw 
 the mishap, " and the parson has it all to himself." 
 
 ".Hell be smothered," said Frank Eabv ; " what's to be 
 done J" 
 
 "Xothe," resumed Hargrave, " Ae's clecw of his horse; do 
 you go quick at the brook to the right, and I'll go to the left. 
 
 No sooner said than done ; both charged it and got over, 
 and six more of the field did the same thing ; but it was 
 a trial of nerve to a young one to ride at a place of 
 this description, in which his friend and his horse were 
 floundering, and within twenty yards of him at the time. 
 
 No one headed the parson, who kept the lead to the 
 end, the fox having sunk before the pack within a field 
 of Bourton Wood, the earths of which, being open, might 
 perchance have saved his life. 
 
 "Well done, my old college" exclaimed the parson, as he 
 saw the two Christchurch men amongst the eleven that 
 were in at the death, and no more appeared until the fox 
 was broken up by the pack, and then only the few who 
 had passed the brook by a bridge. 
 
 " But what is become of Mr. Goodall ? " was the anxious 
 inquiry of many. 
 
 " I saw him safe on the bank," replied a whipper-in ; 
 "and I told a farmer to send some men to assist his horse, 
 which he promised he would immediately do." And he 
 was as good as his word. Pineapple was pulled out by a 
 team of horses, not much the worse for his disaster ; and 
 when his brother collegians returned to Chipping Norton, 
 where their hacks awaited their arrival, they found the 
 one comfortably dressed in his stall, and the other in the 
 act of finishing a good-sized bowl of hishop, which he had 
 swallowed after his luncheon, by way of keeping out the 
 cold, as has ever been the good practice, as well of ancient 
 as of more modern times. 
 
io8 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 CHAPTEK VII 
 
 A trip to Ascot Races, succeeded by an inquiry into the systems 
 and methods of travelling, from the earliest ages to the golden 
 age of the road in England. 
 
 ON the morning following his arrival in town, Frank 
 Raby received the following letter from his friend, 
 Sir John Inkleton : — 
 
 "Stevens's Hotel, Bond Street, June. 
 " Dear Frank, — I arrived in town last night, and 
 hope to see you here to dinner to-morrow at six o'clock. 
 It is of no use asking the old one ; he is no company for 
 you and me, for he once told me he could not live with 
 men ' whose talk was of bullocks.' I twigged what he 
 meant. However, he is not a bad sort of fellow at bottom ; 
 and all the harm I wish him is, that he were safely landed 
 in heaven, and you had his money. I think you would 
 make a better use of it than he does, with his antics, as old 
 Dick says. I shall ask Jack Webber to meet you, and we 
 will have some coaching talk. The nags are all in town — 
 two rare teams, and two rest horses — ten in all ; they 
 will be Tjuite ready for Ascot on Tuesday, when you shall 
 have a seat on the box. — Believe me, yours ever, 
 
 " John Ixkletox. 
 
 "P.-S. — I saw Jack Bailey to-day, who spoke of you. 
 By-the-bye, they were all well at the Abbey when I left 
 home, Andrew making the agreeable to old and young, 
 especially to the Chapmans, but I think Egerton has 
 nailed the youngest, and the eldest won't do at any price. 
 Andrew is an out-and-out slow one, except at Latin, 
 Greek, and the Fathers ; and there, Egerton says, he is 
 not easy to beat." 
 
 The hour of six being arrived — there were no eight or 
 nine o'clock dinners in those days — Sir John, his friend 
 Jack Webber, a great amateur coachman, Frank Raby, and 
 Hargrave, met at Stevens's Hotel, as appointed, and sat 
 down to a dinner of the best of everything, in one of the 
 private rooms. The following was a part of their talk : — 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 109 
 
 Sir John. — " Well, Jack, glad to meet you once more ; 
 what news in town ? " 
 
 Webber. — "Why, the devil to pay at the 'Bull and 
 Mouth.' They have got the distemper in the yard, and 
 they have taken Will Brydges off the Shrewsbury 
 ' Union,' the best coach out of London for a coachman, 
 and put him on the Bristol ' Blue.' Besides, they talk of 
 docking them all of the short shillings the first stage, in 
 and out, which is not fair, because we all know that 
 London coachmen are at heavier expenses for lodging and 
 food than those who work down in the country." 
 
 Sir John. — "And the ' Swan with Two Necks,' how go 
 they on there ? " 
 
 Webber. — "Oh, all right, as regards the nags — never 
 better ; but the devil's own work between the ' Telegraph ' 
 and the ' Defiance,' on the Manchester road. I saw Bob ^ 
 go out with his coach to-day, and Jack ^ yesterday, both 
 very flash indeed ; in short, dressed more like gentlemen 
 than coachmen." 
 
 Sir John. — "And Jack Hale, how is he ?" 
 
 Webber. — " Never better ; and his stock looks as well 
 as he does. He has just accepted the office of secretary 
 to the Benevolent AVhip Club, to which several of our 
 friends have subscribed handsomely." 
 
 Sir John. — "An excellent institution that. No class of 
 persons stand more in need of something of the sort, to 
 enable them to fall back upon, in case of illness or 
 accident, to which they are so much exposed, as coachmen 
 and guards do. I shall see Jack when he comes in, to- 
 morrow, and tell him to put down my name for ten 
 guineas a year. I have had no less than three coachmen 
 and two guards invalided at my house in the country, 
 during the last two years, who might not have required 
 my assistance had they been members of the ' Benevolent 
 Club.' " 
 
 Webber. — " I suppose you have seen Jack Bailey, as his 
 coach came in about two hours ago ? " 
 
 Sir John. — " Of course I did, and showed him, by his 
 oivn ivatch — at least, by the one which once was his — how, 
 to a minute, he had kept his time. ' It's a wonder I did, 
 Sir John,' said Jack, ' for the roads be in a queerish state, 
 after that 'ere thunder-storm yesterday ; and there is at 
 
 1 Bob Snow, now on the Brighton road, and Jack Marchant, who 
 died landlord of the " Greyhound Inn," at Newmarket. 
 
no THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 least half a ton of Birmingham shillings in the front 
 boot.' All the better for the way-bill, said I ; and as 
 for the bad shillings, as Jack observed, that's nothing to 
 nobody ; all trades must live, and we are all honest men 
 till we are found out." 
 
 At this moment the door opened, and in walked Frank 
 Kaby. 
 
 Sir John. — " Frank ! my boy, how are you ? — glad to 
 see you once more ; let me introduce you to Mr. Webber, 
 an old Etonian and Christchurch man ; like ourselves, 
 devilish fond of the road, a right good coachman, but not 
 much of a foxhunter." 
 
 Webber. — " Happy to make your acquaintance, Mr. 
 Raby. Inkleton tells me you are one of us ; fond of the 
 ribbons, eh ? Bailey says you were one of his best pupils 
 when at Eton, and Jack Hale says there are few better 
 out of Oxford — gownsmen, of course." 
 
 Frank. — "I am very fond of driving four horses, but 
 do not pretend to call myself a coachman. If I make 
 one in Jive years from this time, I shall think myself very 
 fortunate." 
 
 Webber. — " It cost me ten, and as many hundreds of 
 pounds as well. My bill, with old Mother Jones, at 
 Oxford, for box-coats for guards and coachmen, was never 
 imder a hundred per annum, for many years ; and I am 
 afraid to say what it has cost me in four-horse whips, also 
 given away. Then my scores at public-houses, on different 
 roads, was something approaching fifty pounds a year for 
 what coachmen and guards call their 'allowance.' For 
 example, that at the ' Magpies,' on Hounslow Heath, for 
 I'um-and-milk to the mail coaches, up and down, was 
 no joke — generally exceeding twenty pounds. No house 
 on the road makes such capital rum-and-milk as the 
 ^Magpies' does ; the coachmen call it ' milking the bull.' 
 But I don't regret the money I spent in this way, for 
 many reasons. It gave me an insight into all sorts of 
 life ; it made me a coachman, which nothing but road- 
 work will do ; it gave me an opportunity of doing many 
 a kind act towards persons who were not so fortunately 
 cast in life as myself ; and last, though not least — for I 
 never encouraged what I considered a worthless fellow, 
 or a blackguard — I have reason to believe I have con- 
 tributed, with others, equally fond of the ribbons as 
 myself, towards the commencement of a new era amongst 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN in 
 
 coachmen and guards. From the notice taken of them, 
 by gentlemen, they appear to be endeavouring to make 
 themselves worthy of their regard and protection ; and if 
 such should prove the case, I shall never regret the many 
 hundred guineas they have received from me. Neither 
 is the obligation all on one side. I have been indebted 
 to them for much amusement, which I could not have 
 enjoyed but with their permission ; and it must be 
 remembered that they gave me that permission at the 
 risk of losing their places. But you are very fond of 
 hunting, as well as driving, Mr. Raby. I know all about 
 you from Hargrave, who is the son of a friend of my 
 father's, and a really good fellow too." 
 
 Frank. — " I am very fond of both ; but am afraid I 
 shall not be able to enjoy them, or even one of them, in 
 perfection." 
 
 Webher.—'' And why not ? " 
 
 Frank. — " I shall not be able to afford the expenses. I 
 fear I shall not be content with the common run of 
 countries, after what I have heard of Leicestershire and 
 Northamptonshire ; and, fond as I am of road-work, I 
 should like to have a team of my own." 
 
 JFebber. — " Oh ! no fear. By what I have heard, from 
 Hargrave and others, you have a rich old uncle, at whose 
 death you will succeed to a very large property, chiefly 
 in money, and that the worthy gentleman is not likely to 
 be long-lived. That being the case, you will not want 
 for money in this town of London, for there are plenty of 
 money-lending rascals who will advance you what sum 
 you may require on your expectations. Besides, no doubt, 
 your father will leave you a good " 
 
 Sir John. — " Hold hard, there, Webber ; I don't like 
 the post-obit system at all. Remember what happened 
 to Newland, who was at Oxford with me. Besides, 
 although I think it very probable that Raby's father will 
 leave our young friend the Hopewell estate, which is not 
 entailed, you must be aware that his expectations from 
 his uncle are merely expectations. It is still possible he 
 may marry, and have children, which of course, Moses 
 would take into the calculation ; in which case, the raising 
 money by post-obit would be most ruinous. 
 
 Webber. — " What happened to Newland ? he was after 
 my time at college, and I never heard anything about 
 him in the money way ; but I know he was very fond of 
 
112 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 racing, and used to say that, from his great talent for 
 calculation, he expected to make a fortune by the turf." 
 
 Sir John.—'' He lost £100,000, at least, by talking of 
 post-obiting his aunt. He called out, publicly, in the 
 ring at Newmarket, ' TFhat odds will anyone het me, that I 
 do7i't ivin the Derby, in four years after my old aunt dies ? ' 
 This was mentioned, in his own neighbourhood, as a mere 
 joke ; but on its being conveyed to the ears of the old 
 lady, by the parson of the parish in which she lived, and, 
 of course, commented upon for its enormity, he was left 
 £100 to purchase a mourning suit and a ring. Now, for 
 what I know of Mr. Beaumont Raby, he would be very 
 likely indeed to pursue the same plan by a nephew who 
 might post-obit him." 
 
 JFehber.—'' And did the parson get the £100,000 ? " 
 
 Sir John. — " No, thank God ! it was left chiefly to 
 hospitals and Sunday schools ; but poor Newland has 
 never held up his head in the world since. It is a good 
 lesson to all young gentlemen who attempt to post-obit 
 their relations. If, however, my young friend here wants 
 the means of keeping an extra hunter or two, during his 
 uncle's lifetime — for I am quite sure he will not need 
 assistance afterwards — I will take care he shall be supplied 
 with them, without having recourse to a usurious money- 
 lender. But, Frank, my good fellow, don't get much into 
 debt, if you can help it. Some of my acquaintance have 
 never recovered the effects of debt contracted early." 
 
 Webber. — " True ; but I think the fault there often lies 
 with the old ones. Every father ought to ask his son, 
 when he quits the University, what debts he has left 
 unpaid ? when, by a speedy arrangement of them, future 
 expenses and extortion, and, in no few cases, ruin to the 
 contractor of them, would be avoided. They hang like 
 an incubus upon a man, who is not able to discharge them 
 at the time, and often cause him to be reckless in his 
 future proceedings. By-the-bye, I can tell you a good 
 anecdote on this subject, and it relates to an intimate 
 friend of mine, a fellow- commoner, of Trinity College, 
 Cambridge. Two years after he quitted the University, 
 he accompanied his father to one of the Newmarket 
 Meetings — all of which he attended — and was thus 
 addressed by him at its close : — ' I have lately seen, in 
 my letter-bag, a considerable number of letters, addressed 
 to you, bearing the Cambridge post-mark, which leads me 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 113 
 
 to believe you have some scores left unpaid in that town, 
 in spite of the handsome allowance you received from me. 
 However, as you spent your money in good society, and 
 left a fair name behind you in the College, I shall freely 
 forgive you, if my suspicions prove to be just. To- 
 morrow morning, then, we will breakfast at Cambridge, 
 on our return to town ; and if, in two hours after our 
 arrival there, you will give me a list of the entire of your 
 debts, they shall all be embodied in one cheque, at sight.' 
 My friend was placed in rather a trying position. The 
 entire of his debts — and his father laid strong emiJhasis 
 on the epithet — amounted to above £800, a sum greatly 
 exceeding, as he thought, his liberal father's expectations ! 
 Then what was to be done 1 To have given in a muti- 
 lated list would have been deceiving himself, by deceiving 
 his father ; so he took courage, and boldly gave in the 
 aggregate amount. His generous parent took his cheque- 
 book from his pocket, and having drawn on his banker 
 for the required amount, never afterwards mentioned the 
 subject in the presence of his son ! " 
 
 Sir John. — " And what effect had all this on your 
 friend?" 
 
 Webber. — " The best possible effect ; he has been a 
 prudent man ever since. But, speaking of old college 
 friends, let me ask you, Eaby, how you like my friend 
 Hargrave ? " 
 
 Frank. — " Very much, indeed ; he is my most particular 
 ally. He is supposed to be the best horseman and sports- 
 man, combined, in the University ; and, in every respect, 
 a good fellow." 
 
 Webber. — "And don't you like Topthorn and Eupert?" 
 
 Frank. — " The best horses in Oxford." 
 
 Sir John. — " Barring Achilles and the General, Frank ; 
 but I suppose your modesty induces you to place those of 
 your friend first ? " 
 
 Frank. — " They are generally first in the field. Sir 
 John." 
 
 Sir John. — " That may be ; Hargrave is an older hand 
 than you are over a country ; but, with equal men ujjon 
 them, I should be inclined to back Achilles against 
 Topthorn in a severe run." 
 
 Frank. — " He has not got the speed of him, Sir John ; 
 neither do I think Achilles can cover so large a fence." 
 
 Sir John. — " Well, Frank, I commend vour candour — 
 8 
 
114 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 I may say, your sincerity ; for, as I purchased the horses 
 for you, you might have compromised truth for politeness' 
 sake. As I detest a boaster, I sincerely commend you for 
 what you have said ; and now, if you please, we will sit 
 down to our soup." 
 
 In the course of the evening, the arrangements for 
 attending Ascot Races were thus stated by Sir John : — 
 
 " I shall send one team to Staines, where it will remain 
 during the meeting ; so that we shall go and return on 
 each day, which will add much to our amusement ; and 
 I think our party will be a pleasant one : at all events, I 
 will do my best towards making it such, and have given 
 orders that a good dinner, for eight, shall await us every 
 day, at the ' Bush ' ; so that we shall have the road clear 
 for us on our return to town, and travel in the cool of the 
 evening, when the crowd of cockneys will be dispersed," 
 
 It is not worth while to enter into the detail of an 
 Ascot Meeting, so long passed by as this is ; but, as may 
 easily be imagined, the splendour of the scene, unrivalled 
 in tiie world, made a deep impression upon our hero. 
 Neither was it the scene alone, in which the enthusiastic 
 reception of the Royal Family formed a principal and pleas- 
 ing feature, that alone impressed his mind. He saw racing 
 to perfection. He saw the performance of the best horses 
 and the best jockeys of the day ; amongst the latter, the 
 famous Samuel Chifney,^ and John Arnull, both riding for 
 the Prince of Wales ; Tom Goodison, and others of equal 
 Newmarket celebrity ; as also Billy Pierse, as he was 
 called, the noted Yorkshire jockey, then riding for his 
 Grace of Cleveland, at that time Lord Darlington. But 
 we must not forget Dennis Fitzpatrick, imported from 
 Ireland by Lord Clermont, who was at that period in the 
 height of practice, but whose life was cut short by 
 catching cold in wasting. Frank Raby's admiration of 
 these men, as also of the horses on which they distinguished 
 themselves, the best, perhaps, of their day, at all events 
 very superior to any he had ever seen before, was almost 
 boundless ; and he would, now and then, ask himself the 
 question : — " Shall /ever make a figure on this course ?" 
 The answer to which, he must be aware, depended upon 
 various circumstances, quite beyond his control, although 
 within the range of speculation. 
 
 On the first morning of the meeting — a beautiful one 
 1 Father of the present jockey. 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 115 
 
 in June — and at the hour of ten o'clock, Sir John's team 
 was at the door of Stevens's Hotel, and nothing could be 
 more correct in its appointments. The coach Avas a bright 
 yellow, neatly picked out with black, and a plain crest on 
 the upper door-pannel. The mountings were, of course, of 
 brass, to suit the furniture of the harness ; there were roof- 
 irons to the front roof, which held three persons, and 
 a comfortable dickey behind, to carry the two servants. 
 The box was likewise on the true coaching principle, made 
 to sail forwards towards the wheel-hor.ses, with a good 
 roomy footboard, and well-cushioned seat, allowing plenty 
 of elbow-room for two. The horses were dappled greys, 
 which did credit to all parties ; first, to their owner, for 
 the selection of them ; next, to the men who had the care 
 of them : for the white hairs on their bodies were as 
 white as the driven snow, and their harness equally well 
 polished. But Sir John's order for soap was unlimited, 
 one severe tax on the use of grey coach-horses ; and it is 
 said he never grumbled if the year's bill for that purifying 
 article did not exceed £100 ! 
 
 The \y^ivt\ assembled on this occasion, and the arrange- 
 ment of them about the coach, were as follows : — Frank 
 Raby, according to promise, on the box (the word "bench '" 
 was not in use in those days), by the side of his friend ; 
 on the roof. Lord Edmonston, Captain Askham, and Ha r 
 grave, whom our hero had introduced to his friend, who 
 kindly offered him a seat : inside were two friends of 
 the Baronet's, non-coaching men, and an old and warm 
 relation, who promised to pay for the champagne, both on 
 the course and at dinner, for the four days of the meeting, 
 on condition that he was not upset, either in going or 
 returning. 
 
 Now, of the majority of this party it is not necessary to 
 say much. Lord Edmonston, Hargrave, our hero, and 
 his friend, have already been before the public ; and the 
 insides, on this occasion, were good and worthy gentlemen 
 in their line, but of no pretensions in ours. There was, 
 however, one conspicuous character on the way-bill, which 
 must not be passed over, inasmuch as his career in life, up 
 to a certain period of it, is, we may presume, without a 
 parallel in the line in which he figured. This is Captain 
 Askham, holding his commission"^ in one of our heavy 
 dragoon regiments, whose history is nearly this : — 
 
 At the age of twenty-one, he succeeded to an estate, the 
 
ii6 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 clear rental of wliich was £8000 a year, and a considerable 
 sum of ready money as well, lie having been for several 
 years a minor. His passion was, the road; lie had never 
 less than three, often four, teams at work at the 
 same time ; and at one period, when quartered at the 
 distance of nearly 100 miles from London, had the ground 
 absolutely "covered," as the term is, among coach pro- 
 prietors, with his own horses, and amused himself and 
 his friends by driving his coach between London and the 
 town in which he was quartered, whenever his inclination 
 prompted him. The pace, as may be imagined, was an 
 awful one ; I allude not to the rate at which the drag 
 travelled, but to that at which the cash found its exit out 
 of the Captain's pocket ; for champagne, at sixteen shillings 
 a bottle, was the ordinary "allowance" on the road, to 
 say nothing for the et ceteras in London. But, nil violentum 
 est 2)er2Jetuum, there was soon a stop to those proceedings ; 
 and here is the best part of the story, which cannot fail to 
 create a smile. The Captain, like our hero, had a rich 
 uncle, own brother to his father ; and having made his 
 fortune in trade, was the more readily alarmed at the 
 accounts he heard of his coaching nephew's proceedings, 
 especially so on finding that his bills and bonds were in 
 the market, with a rumour, now and then, that even 
 expectations from himself, at his decease, were anticipated 
 in his dealings with the money-lending crew. 
 
 " Now something must be done," said the uncle to 
 himself, " to save tliis nephew of mine from perdition ; 
 perhaps the best step I can take will be to surprise him in 
 his folly, and at once convince him of its consequences." 
 Acting upon this suggestion, he put himself into the mail ; 
 and hearing, on his arrival in London, where his nephew 
 was then domiciled for the week, namely, at a celebrated 
 and most expensive inn, not fifty miles from London, the 
 following eclaircissement took place on his entering the 
 stable-yard of the same : — 
 
 " Whose coach is that ? " said he to a man having the 
 appearance of a helper in a stable. " Captain Askham's, 
 sir," was the reply. " And that ? " continued the uncle. 
 "Captain Askham's, sir," answered the helper. "And 
 that break ? " " The Captain's, sir." " And that travelling 
 chariot ? " " The Captain's, sir." 
 
 Then turning into a stable in which there were six 
 fine coach-horses: — "Whose horses are these?" was the 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 117 
 
 question put to another helper. "Captain Askham's, 
 sir." "And these?" resumed the old gentleman, on 
 finding six more in another stable. " Captain Askham's, 
 sir." '^ And these ? " — ditto repeated — in a third. "Cap- 
 tain Askham's, sir." "And pray whose hear is that?" 
 inquired the uncle of another man, whose path he crossed 
 in the yard. " Captain Askham's, sir." " And the 
 mon'key? ''' " The Captain's, sir." " My God ! " exclaimed 
 the uncle ; " and pray where is the Captain himself ? " 
 " A-bed, in the house," answered his informant. "Let 
 me see him, then," resumed the old one ; "show me the 
 way to his room." 
 
 The sequel to this story is short. The uncle addressed 
 his nephew with : — " I am just come in time to save you 
 from a jail. Tn six months more you will be in one. I 
 will advance what is requisite to discharge your debts, on 
 your assigning to me the rental of your estate, until they 
 are all liquidated ; and, in the meantime, I will allow you 
 two thousand pounds a year." The Captain consented to 
 this proposal. He retired to his seat in a distant country, 
 "to starve," as he expressed himself, "on two thousand a 
 year ; " but by good management, the general result of 
 dearly-bought experience, he contrived to live very much 
 like a gentleman, and to indulge himself in his favourite 
 passion for the road, but only to the extent of one coach, 
 and one team of tolerably good greys. In a few years his 
 encumbrances were paid off; he once more became the 
 receiver of his own rents, and no man made a better use 
 than he did of eight thousand a year, cutting his coat 
 according to his cloth, and having nothing more to do with 
 either monkeys or bears. 
 
 It is scarcely necessary to observe, that this party had 
 not long passed through Hide Park turnpike, before the 
 subject of hunting formed a part of their discourse. It 
 was commenced by Sir John himself, with some questions 
 put to Lord Edmonston, whom he had not seen, until 
 that morning, since the hunting season had concluded. 
 
 "Well, Edmonston," said Sir John, "what have you 
 been doing this season in Leicestershire ? I mean since 
 Christmas, because Somerby, who has been visiting his 
 friends in our part of the world, told me what you had 
 done previously to that time. I daresay you have had 
 good sport, as the season has been open, and there have 
 been no complaints of want of scent," 
 
ii8 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 " We have done very well indeed," replied liis lordship, 
 •'and old Meynell has been in high force, having killed 
 forty-one brace of foxes, about his usual amount, and had 
 capital runs with many of them." 
 
 " Perhaps you will give us the history of one of them," 
 resumed Sir John. " It will be highly amusing to our 
 two young friends here, giving them an insight into what 
 they hope, one day or another, to partake of." 
 
 " I will do so with pleasure," was the answer ; " and I 
 think the Shoby Scoales run, on new-year's day, will 
 answer your purpose well. 
 
 " Shoby Scoales is situated in the finest part of Leicester- 
 shire ; and, being a sure find, the announcement of the 
 fixture always brings out a large field. There was, on this 
 day, a splendid field of horsemen ; and, what added to the 
 animating scene, a brilliant display of ladies in carriages 
 and on horseback, the morning being unusually mild for 
 that season of the year. 
 
 " At a quarter past ten o'clock, the hounds were thrown 
 into the cover, in which they had not long been before 
 Champion, a favourite old hound, and noted for finding 
 his fox, challenged on a scent, and was instantly cheered 
 by Mr. Meynell. ' Have at him. Champion, old boy ! ' 
 he holloaed ; ' you never told me a lie ! Get round to the 
 lower side of the cover. Jack,' said he to Jack Jones, the 
 cork-legged whip, and stop his breaking there, for I want 
 to have a Udder to-day.' No sooner said than done. The 
 fox broke up wind, and faced our best country, viewed by 
 the whole field. Of course we were all ready for a start, 
 but were kept in check by Meynell taking off his cap and 
 holloaing — ' Hold hard, gentlemen ; pray let my hounds 
 get fairly out of cover, and settle well to the scent, and 
 then rid e^ over them if you can.' We were, however, a very 
 short time kept in suspense ; for the gallant pack were not 
 only too well bred, but too well taught to hang in cover 
 after their game had left it. They were soon out in the 
 open, with the scent so good, that, dropping their sterns 
 and raising their heads, away they went, at such an awful 
 pace, that we might have 'safely taken Meynell at his 
 word, and ridden over them, if we could have done so. In 
 fact, the first quarter of an hour was so fast, that ten 
 minutes more would have brought us all to a standstill. 
 At Ragdale, however, we came to a check, the hounds 
 having a little overrun the scent, from the fox turning 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 119 
 
 short to the left, which gave our horses some relief. A 
 iudicious cast soon put us to rights again, and away we 
 went, at our former speed, to Hoby Town ; and straight 
 from thence to Frisby Gorse, where, fortunately, we once 
 again came to a check ; for the pace and the country were 
 both awfully severe. Many of the horses, indeed, had 
 already declined, and two received their eternal quietus, 
 from meeting with accidents at fences. 
 
 "Our fox hung just long enough in Frisby Gorse to 
 give the horses that were up, second wind, and away we 
 went again, up to Haines's Gorse, near Great Dalby, at a 
 slashing pace ; thence, over a splendid country, to Gadsby, 
 when John Raven caught view of him, in a large grass 
 field, with almost every hound close at his brush. He 
 contrived, however, to reach the fence ; and, slipping short 
 down wind, got amongst some old farm buildings in a 
 village, and once more brought the pack to check. The 
 scent was again recovered, by some masterly casts of the 
 ' old one,' who never appeared to greater advantage as a 
 superior judge of fox-hunting, than he did on that day. 
 After forty minutes' cold hunting, we found ourselves 
 close to Queenborough village, with very little apparent 
 chance of again getting near to this most gallant fox, 
 when one of the most singular circumstances occurred 
 that was ever recorded in the annals of English fox- 
 hunting. 
 
 " Everyone who knows Meynell, is aware of his in- 
 vincible perseverance in doing everything that can be 
 done towards killing his fox ; and in this case he was 
 determined not to give the smallest chance away. It 
 occurred to him, that our fox had either got into a drain, 
 or entered some out-building, in the village of Queen- 
 borough, which determined him on once more trying to 
 recover him. He, therefore, walked his hounds quietly 
 among the houses, and, as he passed the church, two or 
 three couples of his hounds entered the yard. Amongst 
 these was our friend Champion, who almost instantly 
 threw his tongue on a scent. ^ He is among the dead!' 
 exclaimed Meynell ; and, putting his horse at the wall, 
 he rode over it in his usual cool and beautiful style. The 
 fox had actually taken possession of a newly-made grave, 
 from out of which he jumped apparently as fresh as when 
 first found ; afforded us another burst, exceeded by pace 
 and severity of country only by that from Frisby"^Gorse 
 
\2o THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 to Haines's, in the morning, and quite fast enough to 
 satisfy anyone. In fact, he went from Queenborough 
 nearly to Syston ; when, crossing the Leicester road, and 
 charging the river Soar in his course, we ran into him 
 close to the windmill on the hill, within a few hundred 
 yards of Mount Sorrel Town ; and thus ended one of the 
 finest runs ever seen in that or any other country, it 
 having consisted of every description of hunting, and 
 of every descrijition of dilficulties, which could put the 
 goodness and condition of hounds, the science of their 
 huntsman, the bottom of the horses, and the nerves and 
 jud;j:ment of their riders, to the test. 
 
 " Were I to relate all the disasters and casualties that 
 occurred on this memorable day," resumed Lord Edmon- 
 ston, " I should make my story too long ; and I wish I 
 could conclude it without stating that several horses died 
 in consequence of it. I must, however, mention one cir- 
 cumstance relating to the far-famed master of the pack. 
 After we had been going for at least three-quarters of an 
 hour, and at the best pace, with our horses not a little 
 the worse for it, all of us who were up with the hounds 
 at the moment, made for the corner of a large grass-field, 
 near Dalby, which was surrounded by an immense ox- 
 fence, and particularly strong in that one particular part. 
 "We were assured, however, that the gate in the corner 
 would of)en, and this by that good old sportsman, Henton 
 of Hoby, wlio said he had passed through it that morning ; 
 but we found, to our cost, there was no longer a gate 
 there. It had been broken to ^^ieces by some bullocks, 
 and replaced with a flight of rails, so high and so strong 
 as to bring all the leading men to a standstill. In fact, 
 we were turning away from it in despair, looking for a 
 2>racticable phice in the ox-fence, when Meynell, mounted 
 on his famous old grey horse, came up ; and, without 
 breaking his stride, leaped it in the most beautiful style 
 imaginable, leaving us all in the lurch, for a time, not one 
 having the nerve to follow him, although the hounds were 
 a field or two a-head, running with a breast-high scent at 
 the time." ^ 
 
 With the exception of the Captain, who cared nothing 
 
 about hounds, and whose attention was chiefly attracted 
 
 to the movements of the four greys, and the masterly 
 
 style in which they were handled by their driver, this 
 
 1 This is a fact. 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 121 
 
 interesting description of a run with Mr. Meynell's 
 hounds, together with tlie extraordinary incidents which 
 occurred in it, was listened to with much delight ; more 
 especially by the two young ones, who glanced a signifi- 
 cant look at each other, towards the conclusion of it, as 
 much as to say, " That is the country and those are the 
 hounds for us" " Sir John, indeed, hegan to reflect whether 
 he were not pursuing a losing game by keeping six hunters 
 in his o^^'n country instead of twice six in Leicestershire, 
 and enjoying fox-hunting in perfection. But there were 
 reasons which more than counterbalanced this very strong 
 inducement on his part. Independently of a wish to 
 reside on his own property, in compliance with the death- 
 bed request of his father, his passion for the road quite 
 equalled that for the chase, and for this purpose he could 
 nowhere be so well situated as at home, for reasons that 
 have already been detailed. 
 
 But to return to the journey do^^^l the road. The first 
 stop was at Hounslow, where, according to the usage of 
 those days — slow compared with the present — the bearing 
 reins were let down, and the noses of the horses jjlunged 
 into a bucket of cold water, with a swallow or two each, 
 and most refreshing must it have been to them, after 
 toiling through ten miles of dust, for there were no 
 watered roads in those days. A glass of sherry and a 
 biscuit were also partaken of by the party, and onward they 
 proceeded towards the course. At the point at which the 
 roads branch off — ^just outside of the to^^^l of Hounslow — 
 the Baronet exclaimed, pointing to the Oxford fingerpost : — 
 
 " That is my old road. There are my old associations ; " 
 and, turning himself round towards Hargrave, and after- 
 wards towards his young friend on the box, he added, 
 •' there, no doubt, are yours also. There stands the 
 * Magpies ' on the heath, where I first milked the bull, 
 and there is to be seen Jack Bailey, my faithful friend 
 and preceptor, coming up with his coach ; and an out- 
 and-out coachman he is. And next, old Baldwin of 
 Slough, whose books were always as open to me as his 
 house, whose tick was as good as his wine was bad. Then, 
 passing by Eton — for I was sick of that place, and all its 
 host of learned tyrants — what can beat old Shrul^b,! at 
 Benson, and a good dinner in No. 3 ? But I am not 
 going to stop there. Can I forget Christchurch, and the 
 1 T?ie landlord's name, at the head inn. 
 
122 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSiMAN 
 
 happy days I passed within its walls ? They never have 
 been surpassed by any others, and I more than doubt 
 whether they ever will be. I am now, however, travel- 
 ling in a new direction, and shall meet with none but 
 new faces on this road. But so it is : and there are the 
 nags all ready for us in the street, and we will change 
 quickly, that we may get a good place on the course." 
 
 Kot ten minutes had elapsed before they were off again, 
 having ordered a dinner at the " Bush " to be ready for 
 them on their return, some particular dishes having been 
 bespoke by the insides. " What a splendid team you have 
 got here, Inkleton," said the Captain, as they threw 
 themselves into their collars, in ascending the hill out of 
 Egham, appearing to regard the weight of the carriage 
 and its contents as nothing more than was just necessary 
 to the full development of their great powers and form. In 
 fact, on the flat between the two towns, it was as much 
 as Sir John could do to restrain their ardour, so redun- 
 dant did they feel themselves of high keep and mettle. 
 
 " They ought to be good," replied the Baronet ; " those 
 leaders cost me two hundred guineas apiece, and the 
 wheelers more than two-thirds of the sum. There will be 
 nothing on the road to-day that can touch them, if they 
 would settle down to the trot, but, from the effect of the 
 excitement of a race-course, so new to them, there is little 
 chance of their doing so. All I can hope for, is, that 
 they will not break away with me, on our return from the 
 ground ; but I have little fear of it, as my tackle is good." 
 
 On entering Windsor great park— one of the grandest 
 the world can show — the conversation was resumed about 
 Eton, whose " antique towers " were now visible to the 
 party ; and to those who had been educated there, some 
 old associations presented themselves. 
 
 " Yonder is the old shop," said the Baronet to Hargrave. 
 
 " Yes," replied Hargrave, " and I never wish to be 
 nearer to it than I now am." 
 
 " Nor I neither," observed Frank Kaby. 
 
 "I have no great fancy for the place myself," added 
 the Baronet, " but I should like to see old Stevens and 
 Jack Hall once more." 
 
 "By-the-by," resumed Hargrave, "did you hear of the 
 good bit of luck Jack Hall dropped into the other day ? " 
 
 On the Baronet replying in the negative, Hargrave thus 
 related the story : — 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 123 
 
 "When Hobart left school, at Christmas, the doctor 
 and his tutor, from a knowledge of the large possessions 
 that awaited him on his majority, of course expected a 
 very handsome pouch ; and it is not improbable that the 
 amount had been duly communicated to, and approved 
 of by, the latter. Whether the doctor was popular with 
 Hobart, is extremely problematical ; but that a certain 
 person, named Jack Hall, was highly so, there was no 
 room to doubt. The money for the pouch, then, arrived 
 in a letter to Hobart himself, the distribution of which 
 involved him in no small difficulty. The result, how- 
 ever, was this : — On the one hand, the chief educational 
 assistance he had received from the doctor consisted of 
 manifold unmerciful floggings, and without being much 
 the better for them ; whereas, on the other, through the 
 affectionate assiduities of Jack Hall, he had been rendered 
 a match for any man on the Thames, in the use of a 
 casting-net, or the management of a boat or a punt ; and 
 could heel and handle a cock with all the dexterity of 
 a professor. In point of fact, it was a simple case of 
 flogging versus cock-fighting, net-casting, and boating. 
 Taking into consideration, then, the ' value received ' 
 from either party, and, after the most mature deliberation, 
 Hobart decided that the money ought to be divided in 
 equal portions between the three — the doctor, the j^rivate 
 tutor, and the professor of arts and sciences, which Jack 
 Hall must be allowed to be. And now for the finale. 
 This upright division of the money would never have 
 been known to the family had they not chanced to have 
 been made acquainted with it through an unlooked-for 
 channel, when all was put straight between the parties. 
 The deficiency to the pedagogues was rectified, as it 
 ought to have been ; but Jack retained his share, on the 
 well-known principle of his profession — that all was fish 
 which came into his net. The former — the pedagogues — 
 returned suitable acknowledgments for all favours. The 
 doctor presented Hobart with a splendidly bound edition 
 of the moral Lucretius ; and Jack Hall invited him, with 
 his friends, to a flasli dinner ' uj^ town.' " 
 
 " Capital 1 " exclaimed the Captain ; " we had none 
 of that work at Harrow ; but I think, from my experience 
 of them, most schoolmasters would get monkey's allow- 
 ance if left to the generosity of their pupils alone to 
 reward them, although I do not see why they should ; as 
 
124 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 after all, they only do their duty towards them, although 
 many of them are, like young coachmen, too fond of the 
 whip. As for myself, I had rather be a horse-keeper to 
 the Holyhead mail than a schoolmaster ; and does not 
 somebody say, ' Quern Jupiter odit pedagogum facit ? ' 
 But, Inkleton, when speaking of Oxford, and the fun 
 you had there in our time, you appear to have forgotten 
 Jem Howell, and the ' Birmingham Day,' one of the best 
 of his order, out of the University, and Costar's favourite 
 servant." 
 
 " Forget Jem Howell ! " exclaimed the Baronet ; " you 
 might as well suppose I should forget to eat my dinner 
 to-day at the 'Bush.' I consider Jem quite a pattern- 
 card of a stage-coachman, both in figure and dress ; and 
 he appears as if he were made on purpose to meet a 
 north-east wind, with the thermometer at zero, over those 
 Oxfordshire hills. Then, wdiat a voice he has ! — what an 
 eye ! — in fact, what an expressive countenance through- 
 out, under that broad-brimmed hat ! " 
 
 " That was not much amiss of Jem, the other day," said 
 Hargrave, " respecting the new Bishop of Oxford. ' I wish 
 they'd gin (given) it Oolhj,^ said Jem (the gentleman's 
 name was TFooUey) ; ' he'd have made a rare bishop, for 
 he's not only a scholard, but a gemman, and that's more 
 than can be said of all on 'em. They tells me scholard- 
 ship opens men's minds ; it may be so, but it shuts their 
 purses devilish close — at least I find it so on this road. 
 I never remember getting more than one shilling from 
 a passenger in black, in a shovel hat, but once since I 
 have drove this coach.' But it is Jem's very dry manner 
 of expressing himself," resumed Hargrave, "that gives 
 a zest to these trifling stories ; in fact, they would not 
 be worth repeating without it. I saw an old woman go 
 up to him, the other morning, in Oxford, and say to him, 
 
 * Be you a-going to Brummagem to-day. Master Howell ? ' 
 
 * Xo, ma'am,' replied Jem ; ' but I shall go half-way there, 
 and my fellow-servant will take you the other half if 
 you w^ant to go there ; but mind ye, ma'am (looking up- 
 wards towards the sky), if it don't rain.^ ' And will it rain, 
 Master Howell ? ' asked the silly old woman. ' There is 
 only one person in the world, ma'am, that can answer 
 that question,' replied Jem, ' and I ar'n't he.' " ^ 
 
 1 This anecdote can only be appreciated by those who are aware 
 of the troublesome, stupid questions put bj^ the travelling public to 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 125 
 
 " He booked liis passenger, I conclude," observed Frank 
 Raby. 
 
 " Of course he did," resumed Hargrave ; " for Jem never 
 throws a chance away ; and I saw a good scene with him, 
 in that respect, last term. It being a very wet morning, 
 a passenger put his head out of one of the windows of the 
 ' Angel Inn,' and said, ' Where is the coachman of the 
 Birmingham Day ? ' 
 
 " ' I be here, at your sarvice, sir,' answered Jem, who 
 was buckling his reins, at the moment, just ready to 
 mount his box and be off. 
 
 " ' Put some straw on the foot-board, on my side of the 
 box,' resumed the gentleman. 
 
 " ' Beg pardon, sir,' continued Jem ; ' but I never 
 allows no straw on my foot-board.' 
 
 " ' You are an insolent scoundrel ! ' exclaimed the 
 gentleman. 
 
 " ' This, sir, is not the first time I have been told so,' 
 resumed Jem ; ' but the fact is, I have a mare at wheel, 
 in this here coach, that, if one single straw touched her 
 tail, would kick you off the box in about two seconds ; 
 and here is my master, who will vouch for the truth of 
 what I have been saying.' " 
 
 To attempt to detail the events of a race meeting, so 
 far back as the one to which I am now alluding, would 
 be considered a trespass on the reader ; sulfice it to say, 
 that all went off with eclat, as far as the sport on the 
 course was concerned ; and as the champagne of the week 
 
 road-coachmen. This womau knew Howell drove the Oxford and 
 Birmingham day coach six days in the week, as well as he himself 
 did ; so that the question was put merely for the sake of asking 
 it, as many others are. Howell's questions, on the other hand, 
 were always to the point ; and that put to his master, Mr. Costar^ 
 relating to the coach he had so long been driving, is a fair sample : 
 — " Do you think, sir, my coach tvouldbe missed on the road if it did, 
 not start to-day 1 " Mr. Costar agreed with Jem in thinking it 
 would not ; and it stopped. The fact was, the coaches running 
 throughout, from London to Birmingham, in a day took most of 
 its passengers. It is much to be lamented that there is no portrait 
 of this excellent servant, and true specimen of the old road-coach- 
 man, an order of men soon only to be known to have existed. He 
 died worth £10,000, and as one proof of the estimation in which 
 his character as a confidential and honest servant was held, Mr. 
 Ansley, of Bletchington Park, kept a horse in Oxford for his use 
 in the summer ; and a knife and fork were always at his service in 
 the steward's room at Bletchington, on Sundays, the year round. 
 
126 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 was paid for by the warm old gentleman inside, all went 
 on well with the drag. The party arrived each night at 
 Stevens's Hotel as the clock struck eleven, so exactly did the 
 Baronet keep his time ; and both men and horses appeared 
 the better for their four days of inhaling clear country air. 
 
 But what impression did the events of the week make 
 upon the youngsters of this party — Frank Baby and Har- 
 grave ? Upon the latter, not much. His heart and soul 
 were wrapped up in fox-hunting, and " closely stopped," 
 as fox - hunters say, against the intrusion of meaner 
 pursuits, amongst which he reckoned racing. Not so, 
 however, with our hero. He appeared to enter into the 
 spirit of each individual race with an interest that 
 attracted notice ; and, on the third day, was seen taking 
 some bets in the ring, although only to a trifling amount ; 
 and most of these, as might be expected, he lost. But his 
 speculations did not end with the turf. The introduction 
 of the thimble-rig tables had just then commenced, and 
 Hargrave and himself were amongst the earliest victims 
 to their unfairness. 
 
 " What ! " said one to the other, " can that simple- 
 looking country bumpkin, in a smock-frock, find out the 
 pea, and neither you nor I be able to do the same ? 
 Why, he has won seven guineas already from the rascals, 
 and how I should like to break them, for they look very 
 much like thieves." 
 
 " There will be no difficulty in it," observed the other ; " I 
 see the pea every time, and I am quite sure I can always 
 tell the thimble it is under. We will risk five guineas 
 apiece, and I'll warrant it we'll soon double our stakes." 
 
 But they were interrupted in their course by a bystander, 
 who overheard them, and who, apparently in compassion 
 to their simplicity, thus ventured to address them : 
 
 "Excuse me, young gentlemen," said he, "but you have 
 formed a wrong judgment as to the proceedings you 
 have just been witness of. That simple-looking country 
 bumpkin, in the smock-frock, is one of the partners in 
 the table, as well as one of the greatest thieves in London. 
 He is acting the part of a decoy, and you will be sure to 
 fall into his net, if you risk your money on the tables." 
 
 The youngsters thanked their unknown friend, and 
 kept their money in their pockets. He also cautioned 
 them against playing at the various Rouge et Noir and 
 E. 0. tables on the course, assuring them they were all 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 127 
 
 unfair, and that they would not have a chance to win at 
 them. It was discovered, afterwards, that it was one of 
 the police officers of Bow Street who had acted this 
 friendly part, having seen the young gentlemen come on 
 to the course with Sir Johii Inkleton, to whom he owed a 
 debt of gratitude, for a kind act done by him, in getting 
 him put on the establishment, through the intercession of 
 one of his relations. 
 
 During the four days of the meeting, Frank Kaby and 
 his host never chanced to meet. When the one came 
 home at night, the other had not returned from his club 
 — for he was a member of both Brooks's and White's — and 
 when the nephew started for Ascot in the morning, the 
 uncle was asleep in his bed. The first time, however, that 
 they met, which was on the fifth morning, at the breakfast- 
 table, the following conversation occurred : — 
 
 " Well, Frank," said Mr. Raby, " I hope you have enjoyed 
 yourself at Ascot." 
 
 "Very much indeed," was his reply. "Sir John did 
 the thing capitally." 
 
 " Sir John did the thing I " repeated the uncle. " What 
 do you mean by that ^ I thought your object was to see 
 the entire proceedings of an Ascot race meeting, which, 
 I have reason to believe, is the pleasaijtest and most 
 aristocratic in the world. But you seem to bestow 
 all the credit on Inkleton, who certainly is a very " 
 
 " I only meant to say," interrupted Frank, " that Sir 
 John did the thing in the most coachman-like style, and 
 his turn-out was uncommonly admired on the road. The 
 fine coachmanship, also, which he exhibited, in twisting 
 his horses right and left, and threading the carriages as 
 he did, at the rate of eight or ten miles in the hour, and 
 never touching one of them ! And then the coachman-like 
 manner in which everything was done ; the changing 
 of the horses, and the scientific way in which they were 
 put to the coach." 
 
 " Scientific ! " smiled the uncle ; " ridiculous, to be 
 sure ; but really, Frank, it is somewhat of a melancholy 
 reflection, that, after all the money expended on Inkleton's 
 education, and with really good parts, which he has, he 
 should now pride himself upon nothing so much as being 
 a first-rate coachman. Surely he did not imbibe such 
 ambition from reading the classics." 
 
 " Perhaps not, sir," said our hero, a little petulantly, 
 
128 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 standing up for his patron and friend. " But please to 
 recollect, uncle, that one of the best of them advises us, 
 with his own usual good taste, not to condemn the taste 
 of others any more than to extol that of ourselves. ' Nee 
 tua laudahis studia, nee aliena rejjrendes ; ' and, moreover, 
 if the Athenians, the most polished nation of all antiquity, 
 deemed it an honour to be considered skilful charioteers, 
 why should Englishmen consider it a disgrace ? Again ; 
 — have not their poets divided the honour of the 
 charioteer with the hero who fights in the chariot ? 
 Does not Homer make his Nestor the wisest man, and 
 the best coachman of his day ? Does he not make Priam put 
 his own horses, with his own hands, to the car in which 
 liimself and the herald demand the body of Hector ? Is he 
 not, indeed, blamed by one of his commentators for dwell- 
 ing upon the description of Juno's chariot, when his reader 
 expects him to lead him into tlie thick of the battle ? 
 
 ' For why should Homer deck the gorgeous car, 
 When our raised souls are anxious for the war? 
 Or dwell on every wheel, when loud alarms, 
 And Mars, in thunder, calls the host to arms ? ' 
 
 And is he not so minutely faithful to this part of his 
 subject, that, at the games of Patroclus, he represents 
 Menelaus borrowing one of the horses of Agamemnon — a 
 horse called iEthe (here the uncle smiled, as much as to 
 say, I wish your recollection was as good on all j^oints, 
 as upon this) — to put to his chariot with his own, on 
 account of his superior action, no doubt? Has not the 
 greatest poet that ever dipped pen in ink, immortalized 
 the coachman in song — ay, even in letters of pure gold ? 
 Turning, then, to the Romans ; can anything be finer than 
 Juvenal's description, in his eleventh satire, of the excite- 
 ment created in Rome l^y the various chariot races at the 
 Circensian games, which passage has been so admirably 
 translated by Congreve : — 
 
 ' Tills day, all Rome (if I may be allowed. 
 Without offence to such a numerous crowd, 
 To say "all Rome") will in the circus sweat: 
 Echoes already to their shouts repeat ; 
 Methinks I hear the cvy—Axoay ! moay ! 
 The green has won the honour of the day. 
 Oh ! should the sports be for one year forborne, 
 Rome would, in tears, her loved diversion mourn ; 
 And that would now a cause of sorrow yield, 
 Great as the loss of Cannre's fatal field.' 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 129 
 
 Did not Lateranus, the consul, drive his own chariot by 
 night, and, when the year of his otfice was out, publicly 
 in the streets of Rome, by day 1 
 
 "But really, uncle, joking apart — for I have seen you 
 smile at my panegyric on ancient coachmen — I think you 
 must admit that the fashion for gentlemen driving their 
 own coaches, which is now becoming so prevalent, will, in 
 time, do much good. It has caused them to notice and 
 take under their protection, public, or ' road coachmen,' as 
 they are called, a most useful body of men, and ' scientific ' 
 in their calling — you may smile at the epithet, and yet it 
 is their due — who will be much the better for coming more 
 in collision with their superiors, and receiving, whilst 
 imparting, instruction. It is quite evident, and I have 
 heard not only my father, but Dr. Chapman and Mr. 
 Egerton say, the coachmen on our road are wonderfully 
 improved since Sir John and the Hon. Mr. ConoUy have 
 been so much at work amongst them with their own 
 teams. The latter, indeed, has put together and published 
 a few general maxims, not only relating to their situation 
 and practice, as coachmen, but to their conduct as men ; 
 and they will, no doubt, be the means of saving the lives 
 of many persons, who travel in the course of the year. 
 Now, if he were not himself a coachman, he could not 
 have done this, at least, with any effect." 
 
 " Certainly not, I admit," replied Mr. Raby, " any more 
 than ^Eschylus could have celebrated the triumphs of his 
 country on the stage, so perfectly as he has done, had he 
 not fought and bled on the plains of Marathon ; for I 
 suppose I must be classical here as well as yourself. But 
 tell me, Frank, do you mean to be an amateur coachman, 
 as well as a fox-hunter ? " 
 
 " I should like it," answered Frank, " if my means 
 allowed me, but not else ; for we should pay too dear for 
 any pleasure, I should think, if it brings us into pecuniary 
 difficulties." 
 
 " Good, my dear Frank," resumed the uncle ; " these 
 are honeyed words of yours to my ears." 
 
 "Why, you know, uncle, coaching can be enjoyed for 
 six months in the year, in which there is no hunting ; 
 and I should like never to be quite idle, if I could help 
 it. I think lounging away one's time, at a watering- 
 place, in the summer, must be poor fun for a young man ; 
 besides, the having a team of one's own affords oppor- 
 
I30 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 tunities of dispensing much pleasure amongst our friends 
 and acquaintances." 
 
 "And what think you of racing, now you have seen it 
 in perfection ? " asked the uncle, with some expression of 
 anxiety on his countenance. 
 
 " I like racing much," replied Frank ; " as Mr. Egerton 
 says, ' it is a stimulus, acting on the generous ambition 
 of men and horses, and, as regards the latter, most 
 serviceable to the country, but only a fit pursuit for 
 persons of large means ; ' consequently it will be out of 
 my power to indulge myself in it. As an object of gain, 
 I think very lightly of it ; I have been told there is no 
 instance on record of a gentleman getting money by it, on 
 the long-run ; and we have one instance to the contrary, 
 at this time, at Christchnrch ; at least, there is a very 
 good fellow, by the name of Fairfax, who says he shall be 
 £100,000 a worse man for his father having been all his 
 life on the turf." 
 
 Mr. Raby looked serious at the conclusion of these 
 remarks ; but there was something in the expression of 
 his features which implied dissatisfaction, if not disgust, 
 at the idea of a young man, who had gone through Eton 
 school, laying his account in driving four horses on a 
 turnpike road — in which the most ignorant fellow in 
 the country might excel him — as a means of employment 
 in after-life ; or, to use his nephew's words, to prevent his 
 lounging away his time in idleness at some watering-place 
 in the summer. He remained silent, however, perhaps 
 from the recollection of the little use he himself had made 
 of a tirst-rate education, and of first-rate talents as well. 
 
 The arrival of the postman with some letters put an 
 end to the conversation. One of them was from Mr. 
 Raby to his brother, who read the following extract from 
 it to his nephew : — " Frank has informed me of the 
 pleasant manner in which he has passed his time in 
 London, Ascot, &c. ; and likewise of the high treat you 
 afforded him, by asking those Leicestershire sportsmen 
 to meet him at dinner. As for Ascot, the less practical 
 information he brings with him from thence, the better, 
 for it is not my wish that he should attain a relish for 
 the turf ; but, as he is bent on being a fox-hunter, I am 
 glad you have exhibited to him, in the persons of your 
 Melton friends, some of the best specimens of that class 
 of men. I knew Mountford's father well, and there was 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 131 
 
 no better man ; and I hear an excellent account of Lord 
 Edmonston, from an old friend of his mother, who visited 
 me lately. Of Raymond I know nothing but from what 
 I see of him in the newspapers, as the owner of a good 
 stud of race-horses, and a successful gentleman jockey at 
 Bibury and other places. His being an acquaintance of 
 yours, however, is a guarantee for everything that is 
 correct ; for there must be something in a man beyond 
 being a mere sportsman, to give him access to your table. 
 These are the sort of men, then, that I wish Frank to be 
 acquainted with ; and as I hear very good accounts of 
 him, it is not improbable that he may, one of these days, 
 know a little more of them, by accepting Somerby's 
 invitation to spend a month at Melton Mowbray, and see 
 'the cream of the thing' with foxhounds, under the 
 direction of the famous Meynell, which, I flatter myself, 
 he has seen with harehounds, under the management of 
 your humble servant. You must be aware that the 
 expenses of a trip of this sort would be considerable, and, 
 under general circumstances, somewhat unjustifiable, as 
 regards a younger brother ; but you must also be aware 
 that, beyond the expenses of his education, and the 
 purchase of a few books, Andrew costs me nothing. His 
 pony is all that he requires ; and his sister tells me he 
 must be saving money out of his annual allowance. Now, 
 as our grandfather and father were both sportsmen, and 
 I have myself some pretensions to the appellation, I 
 should wish Frank to become one, and be somewhat 
 conspicuous as such, for which I think he is qualified. 
 As for his passion for driving coaches, that will most 
 likely wear away ; he imbibed it from Inkleton, who is 
 an excellent person withal, and certainly has done much 
 good in his neighbourhood, in liberalizing — at all events, 
 humanizing — a set of men, I mean coachmen and guards, 
 by coming so much into collision with them on their own 
 ground. It seems the ' passion for the ribbons,' as it is 
 called, is very much gaining ground ; that it is encouraged 
 by the Prince ; that his friend Sir John Lade has, at this 
 time, seventeen chestnut coach-horses, with whole legs, in 
 his stable ! and that a regular driving club is in agitation, 
 patronised by John Warde, Prouse, Oakover, Bamfylde, 
 and some others, who are great patrons of the road. 
 Prouse, I hear, has already composed a song for the 
 occasion, in which every individual coachman, guard, and 
 
132 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 horsekeeper, between London and Exeter, is introduced by 
 name and character. I fancy I see you smile ; neither can 
 I avoid doing so myself at the recollection of such absur- 
 dity ; but there is no harm in it, after all ; au contraire, 
 they say, good will be the result. If so, floreat Auriga." 
 
 *' Well, Frank," observed the uncle, " I know not 
 whether I am not myself of the same opinion with your 
 father. We have to thank an amateur of ' the ribbons,' 
 as you call amateur coachmen, for the present improved 
 mode of conveying our mails. I allude to Mr. Palmer, 
 who suggested that they should be carried by coaches, 
 drawn by four horses, contracted for by Government, and 
 guarded, instead of in the old mode by a boy on horse- 
 back ; and his plan was carried into effect in 1784. He 
 assured ministers that Government would be put to a 
 very little additional expense, inasmuch as the coach 
 proprietors would have a strong inducement to contract 
 for conveying the mails at a cheap rate, on account of 
 the additional recommendation to passengers their coaches 
 would thereby acquire, in point of security, regularity, 
 and despatch. Strange to say, however, although Govern- 
 ment ajDproved of this plan, and the public in general 
 were satisfied of its utility, yet, like all new schemes, 
 however beneficial they may promise to be, it met with a 
 strong opposition in some quarters. It was represented 
 by a number of the oldest and ablest officers and clerks 
 in the post-office, not only as impracticable, but dangerous. 
 Notwithstanding this opposition, powerful as we may 
 suppose it to have been, it was at length established, and 
 gradually extended to different parts of the kingdom, 
 chiefly by the exertions of country gentlemen, who took 
 an interest in the coaches which were running on the 
 various roads in their neighbourhood. It soon appeared 
 that not only was the revenue improved by the intro- 
 duction of this system, but that a prodigious saving of 
 time M^as the effect of it. For example : previously to 
 the extension of it to Scotland, the mails were eighty -two 
 hours on the road from London to Edinburgh, and eighty- 
 five from Edinburgh to London ; and, subsequently, the 
 time has been shortened to sixty-two in each case." ^ 
 
 " I am happy to hear this account from you," observed 
 the nephew, " and I will retail it to Sir John when I see 
 him ; but will you have the kindness to inform me when 
 1 It has since been reduced to forty-four hours. 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 133 
 
 the conveyance of letters by post, as the term is, com- 
 menced in the world? I have often heard the subject 
 discussed, but never satisfactorily so." 
 
 "You have imposed a task upon me," answered the 
 uncle, " that I scarcely know how to perform ; but I 
 imagine the case to have been something like this : — 
 
 "In the early periods of society, communication between 
 the different parts of a country must always be rare and 
 difficult ; individuals, at a distance, had little occasion for 
 mutual intercourse ; and, when such communication was 
 found necessary, special messengers were employed. As 
 order and civilization advanced, occasions for correspon- 
 dence multiplied. The sovereign, for instance, found it 
 requisite to transmit orders and laws to every part of his 
 kingdom ; and for this purpose he made use of messengers 
 or ' couriers,' as they are now called, to whom he 
 committed the charge of forwarding his despatches. But, 
 without stations in the way, where could these messengers 
 find refreshment for either themselves or their horses ? 
 Experience soon pointed out the necessity of ensuring 
 such accommodations, by erecting, upon all the great roads, 
 houses, or stations, where the messengers might stop, as 
 occasion required, and where, for their still greater 
 convenience, relays of horses were kept in readiness, to 
 enable them to jjursue their journey with uninterrupted 
 despatch. Thus, these houses were called posts, and the 
 messenger who made use of them was dignified by the 
 appellation of a post. Though, at first, the institution was, 
 no doubt, intended solely for the use of the sovereign and 
 the necessities of the state, yet, by degrees, individuals, 
 seeing the benefit resulting from it, availed themselves 
 of the opportunity to carry on their own correspondence, 
 and for which they willingly paid a certain rate to the 
 sovereign. Thus a post-office, of some kind or other, 
 gradually came to be established in every civilized country, 
 although we find Cicero lamenting the absence of one in 
 Italy, in his time. Still they can be traced, I believe, as 
 far back as the ancient Persians. Xenophon, indeed, tells 
 us they were invented by Cyrus, on his Scythian ex- 
 pedition, about 500 years before Christ ; that the station- 
 houses were sumptuously built, with accommodations 
 for many men and horses ; and that every courier, on his 
 arrival, was obliged to communicate his despatches to the 
 post- master, by whom they were immediately forwarded 
 
134 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 again. Herodotus mentions the singular fact that, from 
 the shore of the jEgean Sea to Susa the capital, there were 
 111 stages for posts, each a day's journey distant from the 
 preceding, 
 
 " It does not, I believe, clearly appear," continued Mr. 
 Kaby, " in what manner, or when, posts were established 
 among the ancient Greeks ; and, although they are known 
 to have existed among the ancient Romans, it is difficult 
 to trace the period of their introduction among either. 
 Suetonius, however, assures us that Augustus instituted 
 posts along all the great roads of the empire ; and it is 
 also asserted that they were known in the days of the 
 republic, when posts, and post-stations, called statores and 
 stationes, were established by the senate. The epistolary 
 correspondence of antiquity, however, was probably at 
 no period so extensive as to require or maintain post- 
 offices on the footing of modern posts for the mere con- 
 veyance of letters. It is in later times only, when the 
 extension of commerce gave occasion to frequent com- 
 munication, that those establishments are to be found 
 complete. The institution of them in modern history 
 appears to be in the year 807, by the Emperor Charlemagne, 
 but we hear little of their being regularly established in 
 England until the time of James the First. In the time 
 of Charles the First, rates of postage were fixed ; and it 
 is rather a curious fact, that the allowance to postmasters 
 on the road, for horses employed in these posts, was fixed 
 at twopence-halfpenny per mile ; which is, I believe, the 
 exact sum now paid to the proprietors of our mail coaches 
 for conveying the letter-bags. These posts, however, 
 extended then only to a few of the principal roads." 
 
 " And can you tell me when travelling by the use of 
 post-horses commenced," asked Frank, " for I lately heard 
 a dissertation on that subject, which came to no satis- 
 factory conclusion 1 " 
 
 " At what period the public of any country commenced 
 travelling post, as the term is, is difficult now to decide. 
 Post-horses are mentioned in the Theodosian code {de 
 cursu publico), but I doubt whether any use could be made 
 of them, except by persons travelling in the service of the 
 state. At all events, I remember Pliny found himself 
 compelled to ask permission of his government to avail 
 himself of their services to carry his sick wife. In the 
 year 1548, horses for riding post were let out in England 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 135 
 
 at a penny per mile ; but when posting by carriages 
 commenced, it is not in my power to determine. I think 
 somewhere about the same time, although to a very limited 
 extent. It is, indeed, only within these last twenty years 
 that English gentlemen have desisted from the practice of 
 what is termed riding post from their country seats to 
 London, good hackneys being provided for themselves and 
 servants on the roads." 
 
 " And not a bad way of travelling," observed Frank ; 
 " next to a seat on a coach-box, behind good horses, I 
 should prefer it to any other." 
 
 " Very good," resumed the uncle, " for gentlemen of a 
 certain age, and of certain personal dimensions ; but 
 it would hardly have suited me. It was all very well, 
 however, for gentlemen to travel in this way, because they 
 could go just as far in the course of the day as they felt 
 inclined to do ; and no doubt but, by the change in the 
 action of the muscles, the result of changing the horses, 
 they could travel a long way without feeling fatigued, if 
 in the previous habit of fast riding. But there is one 
 practice amongst our noblemen and country gentlemen 
 which they carry to the verge of cruelty. I allude to 
 their making their servants ride post-horses, after their 
 carriages, when they travel post, and often to the extent of 
 from 200 to 300 miles, with very little intermission. This 
 is a system that ought to be done away with, and no 
 doubt will soon be remedied, as it is calling too severely 
 on the personal exertions of servants." ^ 
 
 " Allow me to ask you," said Frank, " now that we are 
 on the subject of the road, what distance of ground ought 
 to be implied by the word mile, for I have heard many 
 disputes on the subject ? " 
 
 "A dispute on this subject," replied Mr. Eaby, "is 
 immediately settled by a reference to different countries. 
 An English statute mile is eighty chains, or 1760 yards, 
 that is, 5280 feet ; but reckoning in geometrical "Spaces 
 (60,000 of which make a degree of the equator), it stands 
 thus in relation to that of other European countries ; 
 England, 1200 paces ; Scotland and Ireland, 1500 ; 
 Italy, 1000 ; Russia, 750 ; Germany, 4000 ; Hungary, 
 6000. Thus, a friend of mine, travelling in Germany, 
 
 1 It is scarcely necessary to observe, the placing rumbles, or 
 dickeys, on the hinder part of gentlemen's carriages, has caused 
 the abandonment of this system of servants riding post. 
 
136 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 arrived in a town, at the edge of night, by a diligence, on 
 his road to visit a friend ; and on being informed that his 
 house was only a ' mile distant,' he set off to walk. Guess 
 his surprise, then, on finding that he had to walk nearly 
 four miles of the measure of his own country. There 
 were no less than four distinct French leagues, varying 
 from 1500 to 3000 paces ; neither of them, I believe, 
 adopted now. Nevertheless, ask twenty Frenchmen what 
 is the extent of a modern French league 1 and nineteen of 
 the twenty will be unable to tell you. It is generally 
 supposed to be 3000 geometrical paces, or three English 
 miles, but I believe the case to be this : — twenty-five 
 French leagues make seventy miles, which renders the 
 length of ground five miles less, in that given number of 
 leagues, than if the leagues were exactly three English 
 miles. Then, again, among the ancient Eomans there 
 was the like confusion respecting this measure of distance, 
 commonly called a mile. It was generally expressed by the 
 words mUle ^assus, a thousand feet; but the exact extent of 
 it is by no means defined. One author makes it to consist 
 of seven stadia ; Plutarch, little short of eight ; Strabo 
 and Polybius, just eight. The reason of this discordance 
 seems to be, the difterence between the Grecian and the 
 Roman foot, the first-named being the greatest. The 
 Romans, however, had a stone (' lapis ') — which we call the 
 ' mile-stone,' at the end of each mile, the number marked 
 on it denoting the distance from Rome. Augustus, 
 indeed, erected a gilt pillar in the forum of that city, at 
 which all the public roads, or ' ways,' of Italy, dis- 
 tinguished by stones, were terminated ; and the same 
 w^as afterwards done in the provinces. Hence the 
 traveller would find tertius lapis on one denoting three ; 
 centesimus lapis, a hundred miles," &c. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 Rural life in hall and field : a ball and a wound (consequences alike 
 common in love and war). 
 
 THE period of our hero's brief visit to the metropolis 
 of all that is gay and voluptuous having expired, he 
 set out again for Amstead Abbey, where his arrival was 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 137 
 
 hailed with joy by all parties, and by none more than 
 Sam Perren and the huntsman. But Frank Raby came 
 under the denomination of " one whom everybody likes," 
 a characteristic wdiich, indeed, he preserved to the last 
 day of his life. 
 
 Shortly after his return to the Abbey, a grand enter- 
 tainment was given by a neighbouring Baronet — intended 
 to have been given under the canopy of heaven, in his 
 beautiful grounds ; but a shower of rain making its 
 appearance — which caused his lady to declare she had a 
 great mind to go and live in that country where no rain 
 falls — the company adjourned to the mansion-house, which 
 had ample means of accommodating them. A ball, at 
 night, was the result, and as it was the first at which our 
 hero had appeared since he had assumed the manly gown, 
 he was an object of some interest in the assembly. 
 
 "What a fine young man Frank Raby is become ! " was 
 the remark overheard in one quarter. 
 
 " He has a very manly appearance, in addition to his 
 good looks," was whispered in another. 
 
 " How like a gentleman he looks I " in a third. 
 
 " There appears to be no affectation about him," in a 
 fourth. 
 
 " God never made a coxcomb worth a groat," muttered a 
 gouty old gentleman, who overheard the last encomium ; 
 " there never was a bad Raby yet, and I think Frank will 
 keep up the charter, as well as his brother Andrew." 
 
 " Oh I " remarked a fair lady, who had two daughters in 
 the room, " I think Andrew is superior of the two. It is 
 true, his health is delicate, and requires care, but he is a 
 most amiable young man, and of a more intellectual turn 
 of mind than his younger brother. For my own part, I 
 do not know whether or not I exactly like Frank Raby ; 
 I think his father has acted wrong in letting him be so 
 much with Sir John Inkleton, who, we know, although a 
 good-hearted young man, has some strange propensities, 
 and is also very extravagant. I am told he sj)ends a 
 thousand a year amongst coachmen and guards, and I 
 hear that he has made Frank Raby as fond of coach- 
 driving and fox-hunting as he himself is. If Frank were 
 the elder, instead of the younger, brother, all this would 
 not be so material ; but as his chief dependence, to pursue 
 such expensive pleasures, is on his uncle, I wish he may 
 not place it on a broken staff. I know Mr. Beaumont 
 
138 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 Eaby well, and surely a person of his high literary 
 attainments, and great personal accomplishments, and 
 living in such good London society, must think very 
 lightly of all such pursuits. I have, indeed, heard him 
 say as much as that he wished both his nephews to 
 distinguish themselves at Oxford, if not to carry honours 
 (which you know was his own case), and then to assume 
 high stations in the senate (which you know was, un- 
 fortunately, not his case, not from want of ability, but 
 from a natural and insuperable indolence) when they 
 make their appearance in the world. As to my valued 
 friend. Lady Charlotte, I am quite sure she is much 
 pained at the accounts she hears of Frank's hunting and 
 riding ; and Andrew told my daughter Jane, the other 
 day, that he has already been in scrapes, connected with 
 them, at Oxford." 
 
 " All very fine theory of yours, my dear madam," said 
 the gouty old gentleman, "but doings and sayings are 
 wide apart. No one knows Beaumont Eaby much better 
 than I do, and no one esteems some parts of his character 
 more. All know his literary, as well as his personal, 
 accomplishments to be of the first order; at the same 
 time, where can we find, in proportion to his means, a 
 much more useless member of society ? It is true, he 
 sends his money to Italy, to enrich a country which owns 
 him not as her son, and thereby may be said to encourage 
 the fine arts ; but, with the exception of the benefit 
 arising from the necessary disbursement of his fine 
 income, what good does he do for his own ? With talents 
 which might have made him one of the resources of his 
 country, he sits by, and looks on at the difficulties that 
 oppose it, all his energies being relaxed and absorbed in 
 what may be called the etfeminacy of refinement. But 
 why all this ? Merely because he was averse, from his 
 youth, to those manly pursuits which you condemn, and 
 which he now finds out, though too late, would have 
 saved him — as they have his brother — from those almost 
 insupportable bodily inconveniences he at this time endures. 
 Then look at my own case. My wife entreated me to 
 leave oft' hunting with my friend Baby's harriers, on two 
 accounts : first, she feared I should break my neck, 
 emphatically reminding me that the key of the cupboard 
 was in my pocket ; and, secondly, that, as a clergyman, 
 it was improper in me to hunt or shoot. It was in vain 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 139 
 
 that I referrod her to the book of Genesis, to show that 
 hunting was ordained by the Almighty Himself, and also 
 pursued by the best of men. Then I must not shoot, for 
 my neighbour, Lord Longden, did not like it, and it 
 would prevent his giving me the living of Branton, which, 
 you well know, he gave to a distant relation only last 
 year, although I hung up my gun, and gave away my 
 dogs, seven years back. My case, therefore, is that — more 
 from the fear of displeasing a great man, than offending 
 my God — for I cannot look upon Him as so severe a judge 
 — I have done myself all this disservice. I am punished 
 in this world, from a vain apprehension of being punished 
 in the next ; I am become a cripple, by disease produced 
 by an inactive life, and am, half my time, useless to my 
 parishioners from that cause alone. It is now too late to 
 remedy all this ; but rather would I incline to the senti- 
 ment of Confucius, that he who finds out a new pleasure, 
 provided it be harmless, is one of the most useful members 
 of society, in a highly civilised country like our own." 
 The ball commenced ; — 
 
 "Music arose, with its voluptnous swell; 
 Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spoke again ; " 
 
 and our hero was not long in selecting the partner of his 
 choice. Like Merion, in the Iliad, also, he distinguished 
 himself by his dancing, a qualification hardly to have 
 been looked for in one who might have been disposed to 
 have held that accomplishment cheap. But such was not 
 the case. It was enough for him that it was an accomplish- 
 ment, and one necessary for a gentleman ; and although 
 it could not have been said of him, what Shakspeare says 
 of the dancing-master, that "his grace was only in his 
 heels," he had taken some pains to improve himself in the 
 elegant and fascinating art. But who was the object of 
 his choice at this gay ball, where were assembled all the 
 youth and beauty of the neighbourhood, that the higher 
 class of society could boast of ? Was it a young lady in 
 her teens, about his own age, and one who, like himself, 
 had just made her debut in the world ? It was not. He 
 had selected a young and beautiful married woman for his 
 partner, and who, although of character pure and spotless, 
 seemed somewhat pleased by the choice. The dance con- 
 cluded, he led her to her seat, and agair made his election. 
 But there was something in his manner,at this moment, that 
 
I40 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 might not have been regarded by a common observer, but 
 which attracted the eye of Lady Charlotte, and also of his 
 ci-devant tutor, who happened to be seated by her side. 
 There did not appear to be that gaiety in his demeanour, 
 that earnest admiration of his partner, young and elegant 
 as she was, that he had exhibited whilst standing opposite 
 to Mrs. Denham — for that was the young matron's name ; 
 neither was he seen approaching her, as in the other case, 
 for the purpose of exchanging words, or we might perhaps 
 say, thoughts. All this, however, would have been passed 
 over, but for some after-occurrences which had less chance 
 of escaping the notice of his lynx-eyed observers — for such 
 are all mothers, if not all tutors, over young persons of 
 both sexes at a ball. 
 
 In the dance previous to entering the supper-room, our 
 hero was again seen leading out Mrs. Denham, and 
 afterwards appeared seated by her at the supper-table. 
 Neither did his attentions stop here. "When her carriage 
 was ordered, it was he who handed her into it, and that 
 ■of his own family being the next in the rank of those 
 about to depart, he entered it with these words on his lips : 
 
 " Well, Lady Charlotte (to his mother), I daresay you 
 will be glad to get home, for you have had a fatiguing 
 day of it. But, Emma (to his sister), was it not a 
 delightful ball ? Is not that Mrs. Denham a beautiful 
 creature ? I am so glad Sir John introduced me to her." 
 
 " She is," replied Lady Charlotte, " and " — laying some 
 emphasis on the first epithet — " as good as she is beautiful." 
 
 " What a simoon you must be," continued Frank, to his 
 -elder brother, " to dance with those two ugly sisters, and 
 that Miss Johnson, who is old enough to have been your 
 mother, when there were so many pretty women in the 
 room. For my own part, I think dancing, unless with 
 a pretty woman for a partner, one of the greatest of all 
 bores. In fact, pretty women and good suppers are, with 
 me, the only inducement to go to balls." 
 
 "Some of your Christchurch notions," said Lady 
 Charlotte, " or else those of your friend Sir John. But I 
 k:now no one fonder of a ball than he is, and you always 
 ^ee him dancing away as if " 
 
 " Yes," resumed our hero ; " but always with a pretty 
 woman. I have heard him say, he dislikes an ugly 
 woman in a ballroom as much as he would an ugly 
 leader in his coach. He swears he never yet saw one who 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 141 
 
 had any action that was not good-looking, either in one 
 place or in the other." 
 
 " Ah," resumed Lady Charlotte ; " Sir John's tongue 
 runs fast, as. Dr. Johnson says, the race-horse does when 
 he carries a light weight ; but are you quite sure, Francis, 
 he would not marry that little ugly heiress, whose fine 
 estate joins his own 1 " 
 
 " No," answered Frank, " not if he was sure that, without 
 her and her estate, he could never sit behind the bars, or 
 his own coach, again." 
 
 " There you go again, Frank," observed Lady Charlotte 
 laughingly ,"^ " to the stable, as usual, for your allusions." 
 
 " And did not you go thither, also, my dear mother, for 
 your simile— at all events, to the race-horse?" rejoined 
 her son. 
 
 " I believe I did," replied the mother ; " but I do not 
 wonder at my having done so ; for when you are at home, 
 and especially when Sir John is at the Abbey, I hear of 
 nothing else but horses, hounds, and coach-boxes, leaders^ 
 wheelers, and so forth. Still I like Sir John, with all his 
 foibles, but shall tell him, the next time I see him, not to 
 be introducing you to pretty married women." 
 
 Frank said nothing in answer to this remark, turning 
 off the conversation to his sister, whom he asked, in a 
 jocular mood, whether either of her partners had made a 
 tender impression upon her heart, insinuating, at the 
 same time, that that of their brother Andrew must 
 necessarily have escaped unscathed in the assault, from 
 the very ineffective strength of the batteries. 
 
 It has been often asserted that, amongst the infirmities 
 of human nature, men take some pleasure in creating a 
 feeling of jealousy towards a rival, in their wives, merely 
 because it occasions the frequent mention of the name of 
 the lady who may, to a certain extent, have supplanted 
 them in their affections. One thing, however, is quite 
 beyond doubt ; namely, that men — young men especially — 
 are perpetually given to introduce subjects that may lead 
 to the mention of, or allusion to, the object of theii 
 attachment and love. And such was the case with Frank 
 Kaby. It would be useless to disguise the fact, that the 
 personal charms of Mrs. Denham had made an impression 
 on our hero ; and the words " Mrs. Denham said this," 
 and " Mrs. Denham thought that," were almost perpetually 
 on his tongue, at least, as often as opportunity occurred to 
 
142 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 him. And what excuse can be made for his indulging 
 himself in the anticipation of feasting on forbidden fruit ? 
 None, save the almost irresistible power of a beautiful 
 woman on a heart so young as his ; and the following is 
 the description he gave of Mrs. Denham, to one of his 
 Christchurch friends, on his return to Oxford, after the 
 vacation : — 
 
 "She is," said he, "just what, to my eye, a beautiful 
 woman should be. Her person is of an advantageous 
 stature, very well proportioned, and not too tall. Her 
 hair is black as jet, with more of nature than art in the 
 arrangement of it ; her eyes, neither quite black nor yet 
 grey, contain more sweetness than fire. Her complexion 
 inclines to the pale, though it does not want freshness. 
 There is, in fact, a mixture of the lily with the rose, and 
 a clearness and delicacy of skin which is essential to beauty 
 in a woman. Her words and actions are full of grace, and 
 there appears a sweetness of temper in her manner and 
 demeanour, that must engage the affections of every one. 
 Then there is a feature in her person which I greatly 
 admire, and that is, the form of her hand and arm. By 
 heavens, they might be copied for the portrait of the 
 white-armed Juno ; and her bust altogether would have 
 done for a Phidias or a Praxiteles. And in her, even is 
 an imperfection created a beauty. She has a slight hesita- 
 tion in uttering her words, which, if she were my wife, I 
 would not have removed on any account. And yet I can 
 hardly describe to you the effect it has, but it is somewhat 
 like this : — it gives a simplicity of expression, delightful 
 in anyone, but irresistibly so in a pretty woman ; a sort 
 of confiding manner about it, which, although it cannot 
 be described, you could not but be sensible of ; and to the 
 expression of sentiments of endearment, what force must 
 it give ! " 
 
 "And what kind of a man is the husband of this fine 
 woman?" asked Goodall, for it was to him that Frank 
 Raby was unbosoming himself. " I hope he is deserving 
 of the treasure." 
 
 " Not he, indeed," replied our hero ; " he appears 
 scarcely conscious of possessing such a jewel. If I had 
 such a wife, I think I should never be able to keep my 
 eyes off her person ; whereas, although she was the finest 
 and best-dressed woman at the ball at which I met her, I 
 never once saw him even look upon her — certainly not in 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 143 
 
 admiration. Then I am told he is equally indifferent at 
 all times. She likes riding, and is a beautiful horse- 
 woman, but a groom is her general attendant. She likes 
 female society, but her husband does not, and few of her 
 sex are asked to visit her. She is musical, but I am told 
 he never quits the dining-room in time to hear a note 
 of it." 
 
 '■'■ He is in danger, I think," observed Goodall, with a 
 significant wink of the eye ; "and especially if you " 
 
 " Nonsense," observed Frank ; " a more virtuous woman 
 never lived. I confess I was much stricken with her that 
 night at the ball, and danced twice with her. Perhaps I 
 may never see her again ; and perhaps it will be well for 
 me that I never do. In fact, when I handed her into her 
 carriage, I seemed to wish to bid her a final adieu ; and 
 as it drove from the door, with her cold-hearted husband 
 by her side, I muttered to myself those lines : — 
 
 'Since thou would'st needs, bewitched by some ill charms, 
 Be buried in those monumental arms ; 
 All I can say is, may the earth lie light 
 Upon thy tender limbs : and so good-night.' " 
 
 But to return to the party at the Abbey. 
 
 " I am somewhat uneasy," said Lady Charlotte to Mr. 
 Egerton, after a few days had expired since the night of 
 the gay ball, " about your friend Francis. I really think 
 the silly boy fancies himself in love with that beauti- 
 ful, and, I believe, very excellent person, Mrs. Denham. 
 Emma tells me he is always talking about her, and he says 
 he would have his right arm cut olf, on condition that he 
 could make her his wife. It is truly ridiculous ; but he 
 seems to verify the proverb of ' love at first sight ' — for, 
 although he never saw Mrs. Denham before, he was 
 evidently smitten, as the term is, by her charms. For- 
 tunately Mr. Raby knows nothing of the matter, and God 
 forbid he should ; but as you are somewhat aware of it, 
 as well as myself, I wish you would take an opportunity 
 of giving him a lecture on the subject. He is too well 
 disposed, I am sure, to harbour dishonourable intentions 
 towards anyone ; but the fact of his having the name of 
 the lady so perpetually in his mouth, is extremely unjust 
 towards her, and the very thought of it makes me wretched. 
 Oh," continued Lady Charlotte, somewhat angrily, " I will 
 give Sir John a trimming if he introduces either of my 
 
144 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 sons again to a married woman, merely because she is 
 pretty. There has been enough of mischief in my family, 
 on that score, already, without Francis adding to the 
 stock." 
 
 " I am glad, my dear Lady Charlotte," said Mr. Egerton, 
 " that you have mentioned this subject to me, which, I 
 doubt not, is a painful one to you, as, indeed, it is to my- 
 self. I have a strong regard for Francis, and should 
 extremely lament that one of the first acts of his manhood 
 should cast a slur over his character, which it might never 
 be in his power to remove. That he has acted impru- 
 dently, at all events thoughtlessly, in this affair, there is his 
 own evidence to show. In one of those freaks in which 
 human nature sometimes indulges, he has inconsiderately 
 yielded to the impression made upon him by a few hours" 
 intercourse with, certainly, a very lovely woman, but one 
 whose situation in life forbids her ever becoming his wife, 
 unless under circumstances which no rational man would 
 anticipate, much less speculate upon — the age of her 
 husband being not more than half a dozen years beyond 
 his own." 
 
 " Then you really think the silly boy fancies himself 
 all at once enamoured with another man's wife ? " inter- 
 rupted Lady Charlotte, with marked anxiety in her 
 countenance. 
 
 ""Why," replied Mr. Egerton, "if it were justifiable to 
 make a joke of a subject so serious as this, it might create 
 a smile were I to tell you in what way my suspicions have 
 been confirmed. Whilst Francis was under my tuition, 
 his constant objection to verse-making was, that he had 
 no poetry in his soul ; in fact, that Nature had forbidden 
 his being a poet, and, consequently, his attempt at mak- 
 ing verses was a futile one. But mark the change ! No 
 sooner does the * silly boy,' as your ladyship so properly 
 styles him, fancy himself in love, than he likewise fancies 
 himself a poet." 
 
 " Surely," exclaimed Lady Charlotte, " he has not been 
 writing verses to Mrs. Denham ? " 
 
 " I hope not," replied Mr. Egerton ; " but that he has 
 been exercising his newly-acquired talent on Mrs. Denham, 
 I fear there is no reason to doubt ; and I speak from 
 somewhat like ocular demonstration of the fact. Happen- 
 ing to enter his room yesterday afternoon, in search of a 
 book I had lent him, I saw some scraps of paper on his 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 145 
 
 table, on which, in spite of erasures and alterations, I 
 could decipher the following lines (the fair copies, I pre- 
 sume, he may have put into his pocket, intending, as may 
 be also presumed, to throw the rough ones into the fire). 
 The first ran thus : — 
 
 ' Sweet's the light of morning breaking 
 O'er the dew-bespangled mead ; 
 
 Sweet the night-breeze, hardly shaking 
 In its course the pliant reed. 
 
 Sweeter far the smile enlightening- 
 Beauty's soft and sparkling cheek ; 
 
 And the sigh love's ardour heightening, 
 With its breath so soft and meek.' 
 
 " Then scrap the second contained these : — 
 
 ' Thou hast an eye of tender blue, 
 And thou hast locks of sable hue, 
 And cheeks that shame the morning's break, 
 And lips that might, for redness, make 
 
 Roses seem pale beside them : 
 But whether soft or sweet as they, 
 Lady, alas ! I cannot say, 
 
 For / have never tried them. 
 
 ' Yet thus created for delight, 
 Lady ! thou art not ' 
 
 " He proceeds no further ; vulgarly speaking, there is 
 a hole in the ballad. But, turning over the paper, I 
 found that his muse had been again at work, and had 
 again failed. Even love, I fear, will not make Francis a 
 poet. He had scribbled thus : — 
 
 ' The music ceased, the last gay dance was o'er, 
 
 And one by one the brilliant beauties fled ; 
 
 The garlands vanished from the frescoed floor, 
 
 The nodding fiddler hung his weary head ; 
 
 ' And I, a melancholy single man, 
 Retired to mourn my solitary fate ; 
 I slept awhile, but o'er my slumbering ran 
 The sylph-like image of my darling mate. 
 
 ' I dreamt of mutual love, and Hymen's joys. 
 Of happy moments and connubial blisses ; 
 And then I thought of little girls and boys, 
 The mother's glances, and the infant's kisses. 
 
 ' But when I woke, how changed appear'd the scene ; 
 I found ' 
 
 10 
 
146 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 " Here he stopped, with the words — ' Query, look out 
 mate in Johnson ; fear it won't do for partner at a ball. 
 Implies partner for life, and that can't be. The devil 
 take ' " 
 
 "Well, really, Mr. Egerton," said Lady Charlotte, "this 
 farrago of nonsense is almost laughable. However, al- 
 though, no doubt, another term at Christchurch will cure 
 him of his ' love at first sight,' still, I wish you would talk 
 seriously to him on the subject, and warn him of the con- 
 sequences of indulging a guilty jDassion." 
 
 "That I will certainly do," replied Mr. Egerton, "at 
 the first convenient opportunity ; and also tell him not to 
 indulge in the sudden inspiration of his muse, unless he 
 can turn it to a better account. I think, however, I know 
 your son well enough to persuade myself that the present 
 outbreak is but the mere ebullition of youthful blood, and 
 that a little cool reflection will restore him to his senses. 
 First, his heart ran away with his tongue ; and then, his 
 tongue ran away with his heart." 
 
 Not many hours elapsed before the wished-for oj^por- 
 tunity arrived, during a stroll through the shrubberies, 
 for Mr. Egerton to fulfil the promise he had made to Lady 
 Charlotte ; which he did with both grace and feeling : 
 pointing out to Frank the folly, to say the least of it, of 
 this newly-born fancy, and requiring from him a pledge 
 that he would think no more of Mrs. Denham, further 
 than as a common acquaintance of the day ; nor continue 
 to mention her name so lightly as he had lately done. 
 This pledge Frank willingly gave, and a circumstance 
 shortly afterwards occurred to put the seal upon the same. 
 Mr. Denham's father died, in consequence of which he 
 removed his family to a distant part of England, and our 
 hero and the beautiful Mrs. Denham never met again. 
 
 There is little more to record of the proceedings of the 
 long vacation, fishing and shooting being the principal 
 amusements of that period — at all events, with young 
 men who, like Frank Raby, come under the denomination 
 of sportsmen. Relating to the last-named diversion, one 
 fact is worth mentioning : — What is called flapper-shoot- 
 ing was amongst the sports entered into with spirit by 
 our hero, and, what is very rarely the case, it was not, in 
 this instance, merely confined to young wild ducks. The 
 great lake in the park, at Amstead, was also frequented by 
 teals, which bred in one of its islands in the summer, a 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 147 
 
 fact very much doubted by naturalists, and certainly of 
 rare occurrence in the southern parts of England. AVith 
 a brace of well -broken retrievers, flapper - shooting, 
 whether at ducks or teal, is very good sport, and rendered 
 valuable by its being seasonable previously to the com- 
 mencement of game-shooting, to which it of course gives 
 place. 
 
 At partridge-shooting, Frank Eaby was now become an 
 adept. In fact, there was but little difference, in the 
 contribution to the bag, between himself and the elder 
 Perren ; and as for Jem, he bowed to the superiority of 
 his young master, Avho, he was heard to say, "he believed 
 would turn out a capital sportsman, in spite of all that 
 had been done to spoil him, by sending him to Eton and 
 Oxford." And our hero, with a gun in his hand, was a 
 sportsman in the strict sense of that word, and not merely 
 what, in these times, is more reckoned upon, namely, " a 
 dead shot" "The latter," as Mr. Cobbett eloquently 
 expressed himself, in allusion to the admirers of the 
 modern battue system, "never participates in that great 
 delight which all sensible men enjoy at beholding the 
 beautiful action, the docility, the zeal, the wonderful 
 sagacity of the pointer and the setter ; " but their merit 
 consists in rarely missing a jiheasant which is found for 
 them by men-beaters, and in slaughtering as many head 
 of game in a day, as a sportsman, who takes pleasure 
 in finding them, would be satisfied with in a week. 
 Pheasants, however, were not, at this period, plentiful 
 on the Amstead estate, but their rarity increased their 
 value. There were, in those days, no " sky-rockets of 
 pheasants," as in the technical language of these, when 
 a cloud of them rises in a corner of a cover into which 
 they have been driven, and three or four fall at a shot. 
 
 We will now exhibit our hero at the county races, it 
 being his first appearance on a race-course since he had 
 visited Ascot during his sojourn with his uncle in 
 London, the account of which we have detailed. It 
 appeared that he had brought along with him, from that 
 aristocratic meeting, a few aristocratic ideas, and, amongst 
 them, the notion that it was considered very slow indeed 
 to be a looker-on at any species of diversion without having 
 an interest in it; and in this case, having no bond fide interest 
 in the horses — none appearing in his name — he could only 
 concern himself with their performances. His betting- 
 
148 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 book, then, was produced, and a few speculations entered 
 in it, thougli altogether to a trifling amount. This act of 
 our hero, however, gave birth to a ludicrous incident or 
 two, which, as a caution to youngsters who venture on 
 the same slippery ground, it may not be amiss to make 
 mention of. 
 
 "Pray, Francis," said Lady Charlotte to her son, on 
 observing him, from the window of her coach, familiarly 
 addressed, on the second day of the meeting, by a person 
 of doubtful appearance — that is to say, a very ordinary- 
 looking man, in tolerably good clothes — "who is the 
 friend who came up to you just now, and seemed so glad 
 to see you ?" 
 
 " Oh," replied our hero, who did not intend to let his 
 mother into the secret, " he only wanted to speak to me 
 about one of the horses." 
 
 " And that strange-looking old man, on a white horse, 
 in a harness bridle, who followed you a long way down 
 the course, apparently in earnest conversation with you, 
 and carrying a book in his hand ? " continued Lady 
 Charlotte. 
 
 Here was a poser for the young sportsman. He was 
 above telling an untruth, but was somewhat puzzled for 
 an off-hand answer to rather a close question. 
 
 " A bothering old Irishman, by the name of O'Hara," 
 replied Frank, " who has been trying to persuade me, that 
 he could pick out the winner of the next race, and wanted 
 to know whether I thought / could do so, also 1 " 
 
 " But, Francis," exclaimed his sister, " I saw you all but 
 quarrelling with some ill-looking man on the other side 
 of the course ; what could that have been about 1 " 
 
 " Why, I had better tell you the real state of the case 
 at once," replied Francis. " The persons you allude to 
 are all of them members of the most rascally community 
 upon earth — known by the appellation of black-legs. 
 They attend all country races ; and, having heard me 
 offer a few bets yesterday, have been following me about 
 the course to-day, with the hope of winning my money. 
 But I shall be very cautious in having anything to say to 
 them, for two reasons. In the first place, my knowledge 
 of the horses must be very inferior to that of themselves, 
 who are intimate with all the trainers and jockeys in the 
 county ; and in the next, many of them dispute a bet 
 if they lose it. For example, the man Emma saw me 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 149 
 
 disputing with, served me thus : — having won ten pounds 
 from him yesterday, I went up to him to-day, and said, 
 very civilly, ' I will thank you for ten pounds ; ' on which 
 he replied, 'I beg pardon, sir, / have ten jwimds to receive 
 from you.^ " 
 
 " And did you pay the fellow 1 " said Lady Charlotte. 
 
 " I did not'," replied Frank, " but I lost the ten pounds 
 I won from him. Then that old Irishman is, I under- 
 stand, famous for making wrangles, and disputing bets 
 which he loses. But the greatest adept of them all, is the 
 well-dressed rascal you first saw me speaking to. He has 
 a method of half- shutting one eye, so as to give the 
 appearance of being blind of it. This device serves him 
 in two ways. When he makes a bet with a stranger, he 
 appears blind of an eye, previous to the event being de- 
 cided ; if the bet is lost, he shows two good eyes, and 
 the stranger being in pursuit of a one-eyed man to pay 
 him his money, overlooks him in the crowd, and, of 
 course, never gets paid. Then, again, I heard of his 
 doing a very neat thing, the other day, by the help of 
 this accommodating eye. He lost twenty pounds to a 
 stranger, on a race, having his eye closed when he made 
 the bet. On the result being against him, he thus 
 addressed his antagonist, with his eye wide open : — ' I 
 believe, sir, I owe you twenty pounds.' ' You mistake 
 sir,' replied the other, ' I had only one bet on the race, 
 and that v:as icith a one-eyed gentleman.' " 
 
 "Well, really, Francis," observed Lady Charlotte, "I 
 think you must be a very great simpleton to have any- 
 thing to do with such scoundrels ; in fact, it is only 
 with simpletons that they dare to play such tricks. As 
 you cannot be a match for them, I hope you will, from 
 this time forth, have nothing more to do with them." 
 
 Our hero made no reply, and so the matter dropped. 
 
 The other incident which occurred is of a more harmless 
 nature. In the days to which I am now alluding, it was 
 the custom for the public dinners, or " ordinaries," as 
 they are termed, at race meetings, to be attended by the 
 gentlemen of rank and wealth in the neighbourhood, as 
 well as, occasionally, by a few whose situation in life, 
 although respectable, did not allow of their being in such 
 good company on any other occasion. Amongst the latter 
 class was a wealthy young yeoman, fond of racing and 
 hunting almost to insanity, but who, from his appearance 
 
ISO THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 and manners, would, in these days, be placed at the head 
 of all the snobs. There was, also, in the room, a gentle- 
 man in whom he greatly delighted, inasmuch as he was 
 an owner of harriers and race-horses, and, by his extreme 
 good-nature and affability, a highly popular character 
 with the order of which his admirer made one. It 
 chanced that they sat opposite to each other at the 
 dinner-table ; and as the youthful blood of the yeoman 
 waxed warm with wine, he resolved to pay his favourite 
 Squire a compliment, and, taking courage, thus addressed 
 the chair: — 
 
 "Mr. President, may I be allowed to propose a toast ? " 
 
 " By all means," replied the president. 
 
 " Then I will give you — Doivn- Barton^ s glory," said the 
 man, who delighted in hounds and horses, and doated on 
 the Squire that was the owner of them. 
 
 " Down-Barton's glory ? " repeated the steward ; " I 
 must beg an explanation of the toast, for I do not com- 
 prehend its meaning." 
 
 " Then, sir, you shall have it," resumed the yeoman ; 
 " I mean Squire CranhrooJc, and there he sits" — (pointing to 
 his opposite neighbour). 
 
 It was now the Squire's turn to pay a compliment, his 
 health having been drunk with great applause ; and this 
 is the way in which he did it. Sending for his servant, 
 he ordered him to go to a druggist's shop, and get half 
 a pint of syrup of buckthorn, which he was to put into 
 a bottle containing an equal quantity of claret, and, when 
 well mixed, to put it by him on the table. " Now, Mr. 
 President," said Squire Cranbrook, " allow me to give a 
 toast." 
 
 " By all means," answered the steward ; " always happy 
 to hear from Mr. Cranbrook." 
 
 " Then I'll give you the health of my opposite neigh- 
 bour, Mr. Eidgeways, a good sportsman, and a dear lover 
 of horses and hounds," replied Squire Cranbrook. " Stand 
 up, if you please, Mr. Eidgeways (himself also rising from 
 his seat at the moment, with a bumper of claret in one 
 hand, and the delightful mixture in the other). Now, 
 sir," said he to his admirer, " to convince you of the high 
 sense I entertain of the compliment you have paid me, in 
 proposing my health in the flattering manner in which 
 you have done it, we will, if you please, pledge to each 
 other in a bumper, out of the same bottle." 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 151 
 
 "I should be delighted, sir," hiccnped the yeoman — 
 the Squire filling his (Mr. Eidgeways') glass at the moment. 
 " And now, sir," continued the Squire, as a still further 
 proof of sincerity, and my high esteem for you as a 
 sportsman and gentleman, suppose we take off our glasses 
 at a chuck, and I'll give the word." 
 
 " Delighted beyond measure," replied the head of all 
 the snobs. 
 
 " Gentlemen ! " exclaimed the Squire, " here's the 
 health of Mr. Ridgeways, a great promoter of sport. — Mr. 
 Eidgeways' good health — now," and at the word " now," 
 the contents of both glasses disappeared. 
 
 The sequel of the story is soon told. The operation of 
 the buckthorn was instantaneous ; and the warm-hearted 
 yeoman was carried out of the room in a state that need 
 not, if it could, be described. 
 
 CHAPTEE IX 
 
 Two events occur, of great influence upon the career of the hero : 
 he takes his degree at Oxford, and loses his brother, whereby 
 he becomes heir to the goodly domains of Amstead. 
 
 WE now proceed to rather an awful period in the lives 
 of young English gentlemen, and of such, especially, 
 as may wish to distinguish themselves as scholars — namely, 
 the taking a degree at college. At the period, however, 
 to which we are now alluding, between thirty and forty 
 years back, this was a less serious affair than it now is, 
 inasmuch as the undergraduates and examining masters 
 — of Oxford, in particular — were more intimately associated 
 with college convivialities than they now are ; so much 
 so, indeed, that not only, in many cases, were the selection 
 of the master to examine them, and the books in which 
 they were to be examined, left to the candidate's choice, 
 but, on the preceding evening, at what is now called, 
 amongst the vulgar, "a good blow out," at the said 
 candidate's expense, the very passages in the chosen 
 authors were pointed out as having been carefully perused 
 for the occasion. 
 
 The sequel to this part of the progress of my hero and 
 his brother is soon told. Andrew took a first-class degree, 
 
152 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 and was highly complimented in the schools ; and Frank 
 obtained one quite above the average of those taken, or 
 even tried for, by young gentlemen brought up as he had 
 been brought up, amongst hounds, horses, gamekeepers, 
 and coachmen, and whose mind was strongly bent towards 
 all the uses to which such animals are applied. 
 
 Having completed their Oxford "trials," everything 
 was arranged for the departure of the two Rabys on their 
 travels, when an unexpected event put a stop to it. The 
 insidious disease which had long been making silent, 
 though certain, inroads on the naturally weakly constitu- 
 tion of the elder brother, now showed itself openlj^ ; and 
 it was the opinion of his medical attendants that a conti- 
 nental tour was out of the question, whatever might be 
 the result of the benign influence of a more temperate 
 climate than the one in which he was then living. This 
 step was in contemplation, but met with the same fate, in 
 being also deemed impracticable, and was, of course, at 
 once abandoned. In short, the rupture of a blood-vessel 
 at the lungs, produced by a fit of coughing, brought on a 
 rapid exhaustion of a body already enfeebled by disease 
 and weakly from its l)irth ; and in less than a month from 
 the day on which that occurrence took place, this talented 
 and amiable, although somewhat eccentric young man, 
 was laid by the side of his ancestors in the family vault 
 of Amstead church. 
 
 It is almost needless to remind the reader of the change 
 that had now taken place in the situation and prospects 
 of our hero. In the place of his being sure of succeeding 
 to nothing at the decease of his father, beyond his share 
 of the money settled on younger children on his marriage, 
 which, as there were only two, amounted to £15,000, he 
 now found himself heir-apparent to the entire Amstead 
 estate, settled by entail on male heirs ; and likewise heir- 
 presumptive — at least, such had he a right to consider 
 himself — to the very considerable wealth of his uncle. 
 The effect of this change very soon became visible ; two 
 more hunters were talked of, as necessary to hunt with 
 the foxhounds, the Amstead harriers and " old Dick " 
 being considered as infra dig., if not absolute bores. 
 Perren also was spoken to, by the " young Squire," in a 
 tone somewhat different to what he had been previously 
 accustomed to from the late "young Squire," or even from 
 our hero himself. " I u-ill have lots of pheasants in the 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 153 
 
 ' Big Wood,' " said he to him one day ; " and likewise in 
 ' Blackthorn Rough ; ' they will make capital preserves.'"' 
 
 " That they sartinly will, Mr. Francis," replied 
 Perren ; " but where am I to get the pheasants to stock 
 them with ? I doubt the Squire will not stand the 
 expense." 
 
 " D — n the expense ! " said Francis ; " I will find the 
 pheasants. I can have as many as I like from a man in 
 London ; and if the Squire will not pay for them, I 
 will." 
 
 " But the lookers - out, Mr. Francis," resumed the 
 keeper ; " who is to pay them ? Old Will Hodges and 
 Jack Barret will have no chance against the poachers, 
 when our covers are full of pheasants." 
 
 " I will find lookers-out," answered our hero, "and some 
 of the right sort, too. You must draft those two old 
 cripples, who are quite unequal to their task, and have 
 long been so." 
 
 " Well, to be sure," said Perren, " they are poor creatures 
 for that purpose, sir, but you know " 
 
 " Yes, yes," exclaimed Francis, " I know what you are 
 going to say ; they are worn out in our service ; but I 
 shall not forget that circumstance ; and I will take care 
 to provide for them, although I believe they have ginned 
 many a hare in their time, and spent the money they sold 
 them for in the alehouse." 
 
 " Well, to be sure," continued Perren, " they both loves 
 a drojD of drink, as most people who follows field sports 
 commonly do ; but I never catched them out in selling 
 any game." 
 
 " I daresay not," answered Frank ; " they are both too 
 sly for that." 
 
 Then, again, a conversation took j^lace, in the stable, 
 between the young Squire and the coachman, somewhat to 
 this effect : — 
 
 " I must make my father get rid of these infernal long- 
 tailed blacks," said the former ; " they are really only fit 
 for a London black job." 
 
 " You are quite right, sir," observed the latter ; " I am 
 really quite ashamed of them when we go to the races, or 
 to dine at Sir John's, or Lord Morton's. In short, the 
 sarvants make game of me, and tell me I want nothing but 
 the cold-meat cart behind me ; and one of them — a London 
 sarvant, who was at the Grange on a visit — axed me if I 
 
154 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 wani't agoing to be coachman to King Pluto ? But I tell 
 you, Mr. Francis, it's no use speaking to the Squire about 
 these here old blacks ; it's my lady that will do the busi- 
 ness. I often hear my lady praising other gentlefolk's 
 coach-horses ; and I once heard her say she ' wished Mr. 
 Eaby would get a better sort in his stable.' Now you 
 know, sir, the Squire never refuses my lady anything ; 
 see what expense he goes to with those tame pheasants, 
 and that trumpery flower-garden ; I am sure, sir, one word 
 from my lady would do it." 
 
 " Oh,' I'll do it ! "said Frank ; " I am determined these 
 stinking, greasy-heeled brutes shall be drafted, and that 
 infernal old coach, too ; for you might as well attempt to 
 drive four horses from a stool, as from that thing called a 
 box." 
 
 Then the old and faithful butler was talked to, much 
 after this fashion, the first time our hero caught him 
 alone in his pantry. 
 
 " Is your stock of claret low ?" demanded Frank. 
 " Not particularly so," replied the butler. 
 "The Squire has got very shy of it, then," resumed 
 Frank ; "I was quite annoyed on Monday, when Sir 
 John Inkleton and those gentlemen dined here ; he 
 never called for it until he had half poisoned them 
 with his ' old port,' as he calls it, only fit for the 
 steward's room." 
 
 " It is very dear, you know, Mr. Francis ; at least, such 
 as is drunk in this house ; Carbonell's best. Let me see, 
 nearly £100 the hogshead, or twelve shillings the bottle ; 
 a deal of money, sir, to be swallowed at four glasses ! it's 
 like swallowing gold, Mr. Francis." 
 
 " Nonsense," said Francis ; " what if it is ? — there is 
 plenty here to pay for it. And the champagne ; how is it 
 we did not have champagne on Monday ?" " Lord ! sir," 
 replied the l^utler, " you would not drink champagne in 
 such cold weather as this ; it's only fit for the dog-days, 
 when you want something to cool you." " Well," said 
 our hero, " these things must be altered, or few of my 
 friends will come a second time to the Abbey." 
 Next comes Mrs. Jones, the old housekeeper. 
 " Upon my word, Mother Jones," said the young Squire 
 to her, as she was giving out some essentials to the cook, 
 "you are getting very slack, indeed ; and as for you," ad- 
 dressing himself to the cook, " it is time to put you on 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 155 
 
 the shelf, — not that you must want for anything for the 
 rest of your life, for you have been an excellent servant. 
 But, Mother Jones, you are really past enduring. Your 
 bills of fare are of the most scanty dimensions, and as for 
 your second courses, you really give us nothing." 
 
 " Lord, sir," replied Mrs. Jones, " what can I give you, 
 at this time of the year, better than you always have 1 — 
 either hare, woodcock, or snipes, as the keeper brings 
 them in ; for you know we have no pheasants here, at 
 least very few." 
 
 " We will soon have plenty," said Frank ; " but mind 
 this, — I have two friends coming to visit me next week, 
 and as the fathers of each keep excellent tables — indeed, 
 one of them gives £200 a year to his French cook — I 
 do hope you and the cook will exert yourselves, and 
 not let them go home saying they were half-starved at 
 Amstead." 
 
 " No one was ever starved here yet," muttered the cook, 
 as she walked out of the room, not a little nettled at the 
 remark ; adding, when she thought she was out of hearing, 
 — " This comes of your Christchurch job ; but it does not 
 signify talking, the times get worse and worse. Gentlemen 
 isn't now what they had used to be, contented with a good 
 wholesome dinner; a plague on those French cooks, say 
 I ; they have brought many a good gentleman to the dogs. 
 I know one of them who " 
 
 Here her voice was drowned by persons meeting her in 
 the passage which led to her scene of action — the well- 
 stored kitchen— our hero joining with Mrs. Jones in a 
 hearty laugh at the zeal displayed by the faithful old cook 
 for the credit of the Amstead kitchen. 
 
 Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof : here the con- 
 versation with this class of domestics ceased ; but on the 
 following morning it was somewhat alarmingly resumed 
 amongst those of another description. 
 
 " I want to see Mr. Robson," said our hero, and Mr. 
 Robson (the steward) made his appearance. 
 
 " Robson," said Frank Raby, " I want to find out a part 
 of the park where the ground is very dry and sound, and 
 quite out of sight of the house ; also within easy reach of 
 water." 
 
 " May I ask you, sir," replied Mr. Robson, " for what 
 purpose you intend to apply such land? If for plant- 
 ing " 
 
156 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 " It is not for planting at all," interrupted the young 
 Squire (for ^^ being planted,^' perliaj^s, would have been no 
 misnomer). " I have some idea of getting two or three 
 thorough-bred brood mares, in which case half-a-dozen 
 paddocks will be necessary. The spot should be high and 
 dry, and in as retired a part as can be found, that the 
 mares may not be disturbed." 
 
 " Have you consulted the Squire, sir, may I be so bold 
 to ask 1 " observed the steward. 
 
 "Not yet," answered Frank; "but leave that to me. 
 Let us walk into the park, and look for the i^lace I 
 want." 
 
 As they were proceeding on their errand, through the 
 fine and well- timbered park, Perren, the keeper, appeared 
 in sight. " Give him a holloa, Robson," said our hero ; 
 and in five minutes Perren was at his young master's side. 
 
 " Perren," said he, " I want to have a word or two with 
 you, as I am about to leave home. You must get rid of 
 all those slow, lumbering pointers of yours, and, before 
 next August, be i^rovided with two brace of down-charge 
 setters, and a brace of Newfoundland retrievers, for I 
 shall be in Scotland for the grousing season." 
 
 " In Scotland, sir ! " exclaimed the keeper. 
 
 " Yes," answered his young master, — strangely altered, 
 by-the-bye, in the old keeper's eyes since that time last 
 year. " Sir John, and myself, and young Lord Dauntley, 
 have taken a shooting-ground of one of the great Scotch 
 dukes, for which we are to pay £400." 
 
 " But the setters, sir," resumed the keeper ; " right good 
 ones are very difficult to get. And then the money to get 
 'em with." 
 
 " Oh ! leave that to me," continued Frank. 
 
 " But the ' down-charge,^ sir. I reckon we shall make 
 a bad job of that, sir : I never zead a down-charge dog 
 in my life, though I have beared Sir John's keeper speak- 
 ing of them." 
 
 " Oh ! leave that to me," was once more the clincher. 
 "I shall send them into Cheshire, to old Potts, the 
 watchmaker, who breaks them for ten pounds apiece." 
 
 " Ten pounds for breaking a dog ! " exclaimed the 
 keeper, with his eyebrows half-way up his forehead, and 
 his little i^ig eyes opening as wide as he could stretch 
 them. " Did you ever hear of such a thing, Mr. Robson ? 
 — the man must be a big rogue." 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 157 
 
 " Not at all," resumed Frank ; " it is money well laid 
 out. Lord Dauntley tells me lie can bring four setters, 
 broke by him, into the field, not one of which will stir, 
 after the bird is down, till called by its name. For 
 example — if Dash makes the point, Dash is the first on 
 his legs again, not one of the others stirring until their 
 names are called. See what an advantage this gives you 
 with wounded or scattered birds I He refused a hundred 
 guineas for the two brace of dogs." 
 
 " Well, to be sure," observed Perren, " his lordship has 
 a chance to get his money back, but " 
 
 " Oh ! botheration to getting the money back, you slow 
 old fool," said our hero. " Do you look out for two brace 
 of the best voung setters you can find, and leave the rest 
 to me." 
 
 " But the retrievers, sir," resumed the keeper ; " where 
 shall I " 
 
 " Oh ! leave them to me," was the young Squire's reply. 
 " Lord Dauntley has recommended me to a dog-dealer in 
 London, who will furnish them to me, but I suppose I 
 shall have to pay the rascal an infernal price for good 
 ones." 
 
 " No doubt, sir," observed the keeper ; " and M'ouldn't 
 it be well, sir, first of all, to know that they be good ones ; 
 for, if they shouldn't be good, I doubt you would have 
 some trouble to get your money back ? " 
 
 " Well, leave that to me," said Frank ; " look you to 
 the setters ; and now go about your business ; but don't 
 come home without at least three couple of cocks, as I 
 want to send two couple to London," 
 
 The keeper touched his hat, and walked off ; and, just 
 as he was beginning to cogitate, was holloaed back by his 
 young master, who thus somewhat imperiously addressed 
 him : — 
 
 " Oh ! Perren, I forgot to mention one thing to you. I 
 don't think I shall ever be really fond of coursing. In 
 the first place, it is too slow a sport for me ; and, in 
 the next, I think it breeds petty jealousies amongst 
 the owners of dogs. In fact, I am now about to give 
 a proof of the latter objection. I am determined that 
 leather-headed parson, Roberts, shall no longer be the 
 champion of our coursing meeting. He has now won 
 the cup three years following, but he must have a check. 
 Those brindled devils of his will not be hard to beat ; 
 
158 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 therefore, yoii must look out for some of the best blood 
 that can be found." 
 
 " And where will I get it, sir ? " demanded the keeper ; 
 " I knows nobody that has " 
 
 " Stop ; never mind the greyhounds, you may leave 
 them to me, and go on for the present with your own 
 mongrels, who, I must acknowledge, seldom miss a hare, 
 although they all run foul," continued our hero : " Lord 
 Dauntley will be the man to apply to, as he is a member 
 of the SwafFliam meeting. Only mind this, I am deter- 
 mined to beat that old parson, cost what it may." 
 
 Exit Mr. Perren, heaving a deep sigh, and muttering to 
 himself — " I wish all this may end well." 
 
 I have yet one more little " sign of the times " to pro- 
 duce. The following day was a hunting day with Mr. 
 Raby, and his harriers went to one of his best places for 
 sport. One of Frank's horses went with them, but he 
 himself did not make his appearance at the breakfast- 
 table. His father ordered him to be summoned, and his 
 answer was this : — 
 
 " Tell my father I have ordered Achilles to be sent to 
 cover with the hounds, but, as I have got a bit of a head- 
 ache, I shall not get up just yet. Tell him not to wait for 
 me ; I will follow him." 
 
 The hour of meeting being ten, the harriers had one 
 good run before our hero made his apjDearance, which was 
 at the comfortable, and, with harriers, now usual hour of 
 twelve. And when he did arrive, there was a something 
 in his manner that did not exactly please old Dick. 
 
 " Where is Inkleton ? " said he to his father, scarcely 
 throwing his eye over the pack. At all events, it was not 
 — as formerly — " Here's a fine morning, Dick, for a run ! 
 Yoicks I Bellman and Blossom, you beauties, I hope you'll 
 show us a tickler to-day." — No ; it was once more — 
 *' Where the devil is Inkleton ? — he promised to be here — 
 but to be sure it's early yet — to arrange about our horses 
 sleeping out to-night ; and also about ourselves getting to 
 the foxhounds to-morrow. It is one of their most distant 
 covers, thirty miles off at least, but I would not miss it on 
 any consideration. Confound him, I wish he would come, 
 for my groom is waiting at the Abbey for orders to send 
 the General forward." Inkleton at length arrived ; and 
 the arrangements to go to cover were instantly made, after 
 this rather comfortable fashion — namely, Frank to dine 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 159 
 
 with his friend that evening ; to go the first twelve miles 
 of the thirty next morning, on his friend's coach-box, 
 behind four of his greys ; and to put four posters to the 
 "drag," over the last eighteen. And we may as well give 
 the events of the day at once ; at least those in which we 
 are concerned. They found a capital fox ; and on seeing 
 a i^erson play a solo over a new, stiff, hog-backed, oaken 
 stile, at the end of fifteen miles, point-blank, and over a 
 right stiff country to boot, our hero made him an offer of 
 200 guineas for his horse, which, after some hesitation, 
 was accepted. Sir John having been previously consulted 
 as to whence the 200 were to be forthcoming, a point soon 
 determined upon, Sir John making use of an expression 
 rather familiar to our hero — namely, " Leave that to 
 me." In fact. Sir John said, " Let the horse be sent to my 
 house to-morrow, and I will advance the money, and 
 with pleasure, for I think you have bought a right good 
 horse." 
 
 But we must " Hark back " to the harriers. They also 
 found a capital hare, and a capital run was the result. 
 Our hero not only took the lead, but frequently pressed 
 upon the hounds ; now and then, indeed, riding abreast of 
 the leading ones, regardless of old Dick's — 
 
 " Pray don't press upon 'em, Mr. Raby " — (it was no 
 longer " Mr. Francis ") ; on the contrary, he had once the 
 satisfaction of hearing him exclaim — 
 
 "Go along, you yelping curs; get from under my 
 horse's feet, or I'll ride over you ! " 
 
 But the scent was so good, and the hounds were so good, 
 that they would not be driven off the line ; and a capital 
 forty minutes to Lord Morton's plantation was the result, 
 no one being near to them except Frank Raby and old 
 Dick, Sir John being upon a hack. But I have not done 
 with them yet. Seeing Mr. Raby, as he called him, 
 putting his horse straight at a six-barred white gate, into 
 his lordship's plantation, which he knew was always 
 locked, the following soliloquy escaped him : — 
 
 " Surely Mr. Raby ain't agoing to jump that gate ! He's 
 over it, by the Lord ! Well, now I am done ; I never 
 thought I should have seen the man who could set me 
 with these hounds ; but I am too old, and so is Clodhopper, 
 for white plantation gates. Well, I never thought I should 
 have come to this." 
 
 One of the park keepers being at hand, the gate was 
 
i6o THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 opened, and the first thing that presented itself to Dick, 
 ■was our hero, who had jumped some very high paling, 
 out of the plantation, into the park, standing on his feet 
 in the middle of the pack, the hare lying dead in their 
 presence. 
 
 "Well, Mr. Eaby," exclaimed Dick, on approaching his 
 young master, and within hearing — with a sort of grin on 
 his countenance, which I believe is called "laughing on 
 the wrong side of the mouth " — " I think, sir, you needn't 
 go to the foxhounds, when you can see such a run as this 
 with our hounds. And what a horse, to be sure, is that 
 there Ackillis ! " 
 
 " He's only half a good one," said Frank. 
 
 " Make so bold, Mr. Raby," observed Dick, " what do 
 you call a ivhole good one ? " 
 
 "He wants a turn of speed, Dick, as your old Clod- 
 hopper wants a turn of blood. You see he could not do it 
 at the last, or you would have been here to save me the 
 trouble of keeping your hounds at bay." 
 
 This speech was " daggers to the soul " of poor Dick, 
 and all vestige of the " grin " disappeared. In fact, so 
 dejected was he, in the servants' hall, throughout the 
 evening — so unusual with him when his hounds had been 
 showing sport — that he Avas more than once asked if he 
 were not ill. 
 
 " There is nothing the matter with me," was his reply ; 
 but on waking from a bit of a snooze on his chair, after 
 two extra horns of ale, he was heard to sing out — 
 
 " Damn that white plantation gate ! " 
 
 It might, for a moment, be a matter of surprise in what 
 way the various discussions which have been detailed, 
 relating to the schemes and speculations of the young 
 Squire, reached the ears of his parents ; but when it is 
 recollected that five servants on the establishment were 
 involved in them, the thing is easily accounted for. 
 
 To begin. " La, Miss Raby," said her maid, when 
 attending her in her bedroom, the next night, "what do 
 you think ? — we shall be so gay at Amstead ; Mr. Francis 
 is going to keep race-horses ! Oh, how I do love a race ! 
 Then," continued the Abigail, "he is going to have the 
 finest greyhounds in the world, and we are all to go to the 
 coursing meeting, to see him win the cup. But I haven't 
 told you all yet, miss. The coachman said last night, in 
 the hall (as 'the servants' hall is called), that you was no 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN i6i 
 
 longer to be drawn about by those old black horses, with 
 long tails, only fit for a funeral ; and that Mr. Francis 
 was going to London to buy four blood bays, as the 
 coachman, I think, called them." 
 
 " I don't believe it, Sophy," said Miss Raby. 
 
 " It's true, upon my honour, ma'am," resumed the 
 Abigail ; " and not only that, but you are to have a new 
 coach as well, to be built under Mr, Francis's direction. 
 And I suppose you have heard of his new horse ? " 
 
 " Xot I, indeed," was the reply. 
 
 " La, miss ; why he bought him out a hunting with the 
 foxhounds, the day before yesterday, for 300 guineas, and 
 I heard Jack "Wilson ordered by his groom to go to Sir 
 John Inkleton's to fetch him home to-morrow." 
 
 " I never heard a word of it," said the young lady. 
 
 " Nor of the house in Scotland neither, miss ? " 
 
 "Not a word." 
 
 " Oh 1 he has taken such a fine house ; that is, it is 
 between him, Sir John, and Lord Dauntley, I think 
 they call him ; and they are to give £1000 a year for it, 
 to shoot grouse and stags upon, and some other things, 
 whose names I can't remember." 
 
 " You astonish me, Sophy," said Miss Raby. 
 
 "All, as true as the Bible, miss, I assure you," resumed 
 the Abigail ; " all the servants in the hall know it, 
 and " 
 
 " But, Sophy, surely Francis must be mad," said the 
 sister ; " whence is the money to come, to do all this ? " 
 
 " Oh, miss," replied Sophy, " that is all right. The 
 coachman says, he will be bound Mr. Beaumont has given 
 him £10,000. You know, Miss Raby, he is very rich, and 
 how fond he is of Mr. Francis." 
 
 " I know my uncle is fond of him," replied Miss Raby, 
 " and that he is rich ; but he is not so fond of parting with 
 his money, Sophy, as all that comes to. And, pray, have 
 you heard anything else of my brother ? You really 
 alarm me, Sophy ! " 
 
 " Nothing particular, ma'am," answered Sophy ; " only 
 they were saying last night, in the hall, that Mr. Francis 
 was going to make strange alterations about the game ; 
 that he was very cross with old Perren, the keeper, about 
 his dogs, because they would not charge; that he gave 
 Jack Perren half a guinea for licking young Mr. Hall, of 
 the Ashes, because he called him proud — Mr. Francis, I 
 II 
 
i62 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 mean, ma'am ; and I heard old Dick tlie huntsman say he 
 thought Mr. Francis wasn't easy in his mind about that 
 lady he used to talk so much about ; for, the last time he 
 was out with our hounds, he tried to break his neck over 
 a new white-painted gate in Lord Morton's park." 
 
 It is scarcely necessary to say that every word of this 
 was carefully retailed the next morning to Lady Charlotte, 
 by her daughter, before her ladyship broke her fast ; and 
 by her transferred to Mr. Raby, before he ate his dinner. 
 Now then for the result. 
 
 It so happened that, on this evening, there was no male 
 stranger guest at the Abbey ; and after the ladies left the 
 dinner-room, Mr. Raby and his only son were left by 
 themselves, over a bottle of Grifiiths's port. 
 
 "Well, Frank," said Mr. Raby, "although by Dick's 
 account you have got too fast for my harriers, I find you 
 met with your match yesterday with the foxhounds, for 
 I hear the horses were all very much beat." 
 
 "They were, indeed," replied Frank; "in short, only 
 one horse had wind left in him to leap a very high stile 
 at the finish, and I bought him." 
 
 "You did right, Frank," said the father; "that is to 
 say, if you bought him at a reasonable price." 
 
 "Two hundred was the price," said our hero. 
 
 " A large sum, to be sure," observed Mr. Raby, " but I 
 suppose a horse that shows such superiority at the end of 
 a long fox-chase, commands a large sum. I shall order 
 Robson to give you the money to-morrow, or perhaps a 
 check on my banker will be preferable, as you will have 
 to send it to the gentleman by the post." 
 
 " The gentleman is paid for the liorse, sir," said Frank : 
 " Sir John lent me the money ; but now we are on the 
 subject of money, I have a few words to say to you, and a 
 better opportunity may not, perhaps, present itself, as I 
 am going from home to-morrow for a week or ten days. 
 As my poor elder brother is now no longer a charge upon 
 you, perhaps you will have the kindness to increase 
 my allowance, for I should be very sorry to find myself 
 involved in debts which I could not readily pay." 
 
 "I am glad to hear you say so," replied Mr. Raby ; 
 " as for myself, I never had the courage to get into debt ; 
 but, Frank, have you quite abandoned the idea of going 
 abroad 1 Your uncle is very anxious that you should go, 
 and I must say I am not a little so myself." 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 163 
 
 *' I am sorry to tliwart the wishes of either yourself or 
 my uncle," resumed our hero ; " but, upon my word, I do 
 not see the use of my incurring such an expense. Besides, 
 in what shall I be better for visiting foreign countries, 
 when I cannot talk or understand the language of them. 
 You know Doctor Johnson has put it in black and white 
 — that he never met with a man who could talk a whit 
 the better for having been abroad ; and as for writing 
 the better for it, I do not suppose my scribbling propensities 
 will ever exceed a few short epistles to my friends. At 
 the same time, if yourself and my uncle particularly wish 
 that I should travel, I am ready, though I cannot say 
 willing, to make the required sacrifice." 
 
 " We will drop the subject," said the father ; " I will 
 never ask a son of mine to do that which I perceive he 
 is really averse to ; neither is it a point so near to my 
 heart as to that of your Uncle Beaumont, for reasons 
 which I have heard him give. I confess, my chief desire 
 is, that you should learn to fulfil the duties of a country 
 gentleman and large landed proprietor — not a few, I 
 assure you — and for which, perhaps, England may, after 
 all, prove the best school. But, Francis, what is all this 
 I have heard from Lady Charlotte to-day about your 
 going to keep race-horses." 
 
 " Why, sir," replied our hero, somewhat taken aback ; 
 " I am very fond, as you know, of the animal, horse, and 
 have noticed the great pleasure my friend Dauntley takes 
 in breeding. I was just asking Kobson yesterday, as I 
 was walking with him in the park, what he thought 
 would be the expense of a few paddocks for the purpose ; 
 and likewise, if you did not object, what part of the park 
 would be the fittest, at the same time not within sight 
 from the house." 
 
 " Paddocks in the park, my dear Frank I " exclaimed 
 Mr. Eaby ; " I cannot consent to anything of the sort. I 
 should be sorry to see the pastoral character of this fine 
 park defiled by a parcel of fiery-red brick walls. Then 
 you quote your friend Dauntley as a precedent for this 
 frolic of yours ! You must bear in mind that Dauntley 
 has twice as many thousands a year as you have hundreds, 
 and perhaps you have no ide^a of the expense of a breed- 
 ing stud on ever so small a scale. I am told that the 
 annual expense of a mare, including her produce, exceeds 
 a hundred pounds, saying nothing of the chapter of 
 
i64 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 accidents, and the probability of the produce not being 
 worth as many shillings after another hundred have been 
 expended upon him. In fact, it is asserted, and I believe 
 on good authority, that the present Lord Grosvenor, 
 although a winner of the immense sum of £200,000, is 
 still a loser by his breeding paddocks, all expenses being 
 reckoned. Moreover, Frank, although it has been noted 
 for lovers of all field sports — indeed your Uncle Beaumont 
 and poor Andrew are the only exceptions within the last 
 200 years — the name of Raby has never yet appeared to 
 a race-horse ; nor am I by any means anxious that it 
 should. A fox-hunter you may be, with my hearty 
 approbation ; it is getting to the top branch of the tree, 
 although I had not the nerve to ascend so high ; it is 
 there, 1 believe, that perfection is to be found. But I 
 would not combine the pursuits which are in themselves 
 so opposite ; it would resemble the mingling of garlands 
 of roses with the poison of deadly nightshade. But to 
 the point, Frank ; I will increase your allowance to £800 
 a year, paid half-yearly ; I will pay for the hunter you 
 have just bargained for, and for another as good, if you 
 can find him ; and then I should imagine, with what is 
 vulgarly termed the run of your own teeth, and those of 
 your horses and servants at home, when you wish to be at 
 home, you will not only have no cause for complaint, but 
 be enabled to make as good an appearance, and enjoy 
 yourself as much as any other young heir-apparent in this 
 county, or the next." 
 
 Here our hero nodded assent, and afterwards ac- 
 knowledged the kindness of his father in commonplace 
 words, which it may not be worth while to repeat. But 
 a bystander would have observed a something in his 
 manner at the moment, which too plainly showed the 
 final result of the conversation was by no means satis- 
 factory. In fact, though scotched, the snake was not 
 killed, and Frank said within himself, "If I am not 
 permitted to breed him, I am determined to have a race- 
 horse, before I am much older." 
 
 Now, as it has been my desire to draw a portrait of Frank 
 Raby in his own true character — one which, on the whole, 
 does honour to our nature — I must endeavour not only 
 to account for, but to smooth down this too apparent 
 disregard of the wishes of a kind and indulgent parent. 
 The real truth, then, is this, startling as it may appear : — 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 165 
 
 racing has been represented, and justly, in my opinion, 
 to be a stimulus acting powerfully on the generous 
 ambition of man, prompting him to personal exertion, 
 and highly exciting to superiority. What, then, is the 
 result ? Why that, as a man now and then violates his 
 best principles for a woman, he now and then violates 
 them for a horse. Such, it appears, had been the 
 impression made on Frank Ra,by by his late intercourse 
 with Lord Dauntley, who had been introduced to him by 
 his friend Goodall, by the well-conducted breeding 
 establishment that he had formed, together with his 
 temporary success— for he had just won the Oaks, and had 
 run second for the St. Leger — that he had made a vow to 
 himself, that, before he was three years older, he would 
 win a Derby or an Oaks, if money or management could 
 effect it. 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 Our sportsman has now entered in earnest upon his life. He refuses 
 a seat in Parhament, and studies his craft with enthusiasm, 
 opening his first regular hunting campaign with the Warwick- 
 shire, under the celebrated Mr. Corbet, and the Pji;chley, 
 under the great John Warde. 
 
 ON his return to the Abbey, after a week's absence 
 on a visit to his friend Lord Dauntley, he found 
 the following letter from his uncle : — 
 
 " Harley Street, January 10, 1802. 
 "Dear Frank, — As I do not expect to see you in 
 town till the hunting season closes, I write to inform 
 you, that a friend of mine and your father has intimated 
 to me his intention of retiring from the fatigues of 
 parliamentary life in consequence of ill-health, and made 
 an offer of the borough to me, which, being a close one, 
 he has, of course, the power to do. My taking it is out 
 of the question ; but, as you are aware it was very much 
 my wish that your poor brother should have been in the 
 House, and the voice of a Raby once more listened to 
 with attention within its walls — which would certainly 
 have been the case if that wish had been granted me— 
 I am particularly desirous thati/ow should accept the prof- 
 fered boon. It will be an excellent introduction into life, 
 
i66 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 and, situated as you now are, I consider it little short of a 
 point of duty that you should avail yourself of this offer. 
 
 " I fancy that I may be met with some objections from 
 yourself ; indeed, I will at once anticipate them, at the 
 same time endeavour to remove them. You may tell 
 me, you have no oratorical talent, but you must allow 
 me to tell you what you have been before told {nascimur 
 poetce, fimus oratores), that every highly-educated man has 
 it in his power to speak well. To become a perfect orator, 
 perhaps, one must be endued by nature with a genius 
 superior to the bulk of mankind ; yet pains and industry 
 may make any person possessing a good judgment and 
 ordinary imagination, a tolerable speaker, especially if 
 he set about improving himself when young — by making 
 himself master of the great events, and of the principal 
 characters which are handed down to us in history, and 
 thus laying in such a store of knowledge as will be ready 
 at hand on almost all occasions. And history will not 
 only furnish you with the best materials and ground- 
 work of public speaking, but it will also furnish you 
 with the best models. To imitate the brightest examples, 
 and to follow the steps of those who have been ornaments 
 of human nature, and an honour to their country, should 
 be the study and desire of every English gentleman. 
 Your first attempt may fail, as did that of the greatest 
 orator the world ever saw ; but, like him, do not be 
 discouraged ; and remember that my first attempt was 
 crowned with complete success. The effects of a good 
 classical education shine brilliantly when least expected, 
 which, I believe I may say, was my own case : a scripture 
 expression has weight in a popular assembly, but nothing 
 impresses so strongly as a highly classical allusion. 
 
 " As to the line of conduct you may choose to adopt — 
 in other words, as to which side of the House you may 
 give your support — I leave that to your own discretion. 
 My own politics are soon told. I would support the 
 rights of the people to their full extent, without losing 
 sight of the principles of the constitution, and my duty 
 to my king and country. We want not another Theseus 
 here, who, as Aristotle says, ' parted with regal power for 
 popular favour ; ' nor would I recommend you to press 
 any political point further than is consonant with the 
 general sense of the community. And here I speak from 
 what I have read or seen. If any state has happened to 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 167 
 
 experience — to whatever cause it might be owing — a 
 sudden change in its system of government ; if an altera- 
 tion in its established forms has been brought about by 
 means which were uncalled for, it has almost always either 
 relapsed into its ancient channel, or else the change has 
 been attended with very disastrous circumstances. 
 
 " My sermon is concluded. Ponder seriously, my dear 
 nephew, on what it contains, with a full assurance that 
 it is intended for your benefit, and qualify yourself for 
 the task I wish you to perform. Speech being the faculty 
 which exalts man above the rest of the creation, we must 
 consider eloquence as the talent which gives him the most 
 distinguished pre-eminence over his own species. Study 
 it, then, as you regard the wishes — I may say more — 
 the desires of — Your affectionate uncle, 
 
 " Beaumont Raby." 
 
 To this epistle, our hero returned the following reply : — 
 
 " My Dear Uncle,— It is with much regret that I find 
 myself compelled to decline complying with any wish of 
 yours, particularly with one so earnestly expressed as that 
 which is the subject of your last kind letter. But the fact 
 is, being confident that my enjoyment of life is one of the 
 objects most near to your heart, I have less compunction 
 in refusing to grant your present request than I should 
 otherwise feel. I have more than one objection to be- 
 coming a member of Parliament. First, on the score of 
 expense, for, as it is my wish to keep not less than six 
 hunters (I have four now — my father has just made me 
 a present of two), and I mean to be absent from home, 
 in some of the best hunting countries, during the winter, 
 it would surely involve me in expenses which I might 
 not be able to meet, for, as you are aware, my allowance 
 from my father is only £800 a year. Then, again, 
 of what use should I be in Parliament, with my 
 slender experience of the world, and no knowledge of 
 business beyond adding up a bill 1 I suppose I might, 
 if called upon, make a tolerable speech — that is to say, 
 if it were on a subject with which I was conversant; and 
 without being so, the tongue of a Demosthenes would be 
 useless. But, to tell you the truth, I am not so much 
 enamoured as yourself, with the effects of fine oratory ; 
 neither do I think it is altogether necessary to dress up 
 
i68 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 the new-born occurrences of the day in the pompons robe 
 of history. Your fine talkers always remind me of the 
 fable of Narcissus — they fall in love with their own 
 voices, as he did with his own face. Did the flaming 
 speeches or strong remonstrances of Demosthenes (indeed, 
 old Juvenal tells us he had better have remained a black- 
 smith) banish corruption from Athens 1 Did what is 
 called the masterpiece of Cicero's orations prevent the 
 banishment of Milo, or his invective against Antony 
 destroy the power of that tyrant 1 Was not He ' who 
 spake as never man spake,' disregarded and persecuted 
 to death by the multitude ? Can human elocution perform 
 what divine accom^Dlishments and assistance were not able 
 to effect ? No, uncle, in matters of common life, and also 
 in the House of Commons, it is not so much ichat is said, 
 as who said it, that has weight. In short, I look upon 
 oratory as a two-edged weapon, which cuts both ways ; 
 and if my scanty knowledge of history has led me to 
 a right conclusion, it is much to be doubted whether the 
 gift of fine speaking, though both excellent and useful 
 in its nature, has not been applied in such a manner as 
 to do more harm than good. Factious demagogues, in 
 the shape of fine speakers, have too often led the multitude 
 captive, by first deceiving, and afterwards plundering and 
 destroying them. I have now, my dear uncle, nothing 
 more to say on this subject than to assure you that it 
 is one on which I hope you will not press me further, 
 inasmuch as it gives me great pain to dissent from your 
 opinion, or thwart your wishes. On all other points, I 
 trust you will find me, what I hope you have hitherto 
 found me, — Your affectionate and dutiful nephew, 
 
 " Francis Kaby. 
 "Beaumont Raby, Esq., &c. &c. &c. 
 
 " P.S. — I forgot to mention one more objection to being 
 in Parliament. The House meets in the month of 
 February, decidedly the best month in the year for fox- 
 hunting!! Then there is a call of the House, perhaps, just 
 as you had set your heart on some favourite fixtures. 
 Dauntley tells me, he never takes up a newspaper in 
 the hunting season, but he trembles for the words — ' The 
 Lords summoned.' '" ^ 
 
 1 It is a well-known fact that on two celebrated Meltonians 
 requesting to be exciised sitting on a committee of the House, 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 169 
 
 As may be imagined, the contents of tliis letter, as far 
 as they related to the offer of the borough, and the hopes 
 of the uncle for the future renown of his nephew, were 
 by no means agreeable to Mr. Beaumont Eaby ; but 
 enough has been said of his character to make it apparent 
 that he did not take the trouble to renew his solicitation 
 by letter. In mere acknowledgment, then, of our hero's 
 determination to refuse the proffered boon, he thus 
 expressed himself in return : — 
 
 " Your letter, my dear Frank, which I received yester- 
 day, was to me rather an annoyance than a matter of 
 surprise. I now plainly see through all your distant 
 views ; that you are determined to be a sportsman, and 
 to lead a country life. Well, I know not how I can 
 blame you on the principle of Horace, who, with his 
 usual good discretion, tells us, that we should neither 
 commend our own tastes, nor censure those of others ; 
 neither will I blame you, provided you bear in mind that 
 the alternate pleasure of reading and recreation is the 
 happy privilege of retired leisure. That you will descend 
 so low in the scale of intellectual beings, whose minds 
 have been cultivated, as to assume the character of the 
 mere sportsman, I cannot, for a moment, induce myself 
 to suppose : such a person is now happily becoming 
 scarce ; and the badge of a liberal education is not, as 
 it was used to be, all at once thrown aside. Let me, 
 however, as you are about to launch into what may be 
 called promiscuous society, which that of sportsmen must 
 generally be termed, offer to your notice a few hints, a 
 close attention to which may turn to your account, as 
 you pass through life. 
 
 "Civility and good breeding are generally considered 
 synonymous terms, but they are not such. Good breeding 
 implies civility, but civility does not reciprocally imply 
 good breeding. Good breeding is the middle point 
 between two extremes, — between flattery and sincerity. 
 It is to be acquired partly by a knowledge of the world, 
 but chiefly by keeping good company. It is, I admit, 
 difficult to be defined, inasmuch as it consists in a fitness 
 and propriety of w^ords, actions, and looks, adapted to the 
 variety and combination of persons, places, and things ; 
 
 the Speaker observed, that he believed "the month of February 
 was the best hunting month in the year." 
 
lyo THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 but it covers a multitude of faults, and, to a certain degree, 
 supplies the want of virtues. In the common course of 
 life it is invaluable, keeping people within the bounds 
 of decency, checking familiarity, and restraining excesses. 
 It is, in fact, the ornament and cement of social life. 
 Great talents make a man famous ; learning causes him 
 to be esteemed : but it is good breeding — which is some- 
 thing more than an accomplishment — that alone renders 
 him beloved. We will talk over these matters when you 
 come to town, which I suppose you will do in the spring, 
 when all the world is here ; and till then, and always, — 
 I remain, your affectionate uncle, 
 
 " Beaumont Kaby. 
 "To Francis Eaby, Esq." 
 
 The remainder of this winter passed away very 
 agreeably with our hero, who may be said to have been 
 qualifying for those which were to follow, by improving 
 himself in riding and shooting, and in all the other 
 branches of what may be called "rural education and 
 accomplishments." Amongst the novelties, however, was a 
 prize-light, of which, as his friend Sir John Inkleton was, 
 to a certain extent, a backer of one of the men, he became a 
 spectator. He, however, returned from the spectacle very 
 little gratified ; and, despite of the encomiums bestowed 
 upon boxing by his companion, — who maintained that it 
 preserved the vigour and characteristic courage of the 
 English people, which had raised this country above the 
 other nations of the earth ; that, although the same God 
 who made man rational also made him resentful, it was 
 the characteristic of Englishmen to be resentful of insult 
 only, but not to be vindictive, and which was to be 
 attributed to the same cause, also reminding his young 
 friend of the splendid encomium on boxing in " Knight's 
 Analysis of Taste," just then published, — agreed with 
 what Cicero had said of the gladiators, namely, that the 
 exhibition satiated whilst it lasted, and left no satisfaction 
 in the reflection of it. Inasmuch as this was the first, 
 so it was the last of these exhibitions which Frank Eaby 
 attended ; but by way of showing the difference in the 
 style in which the records of such events are handed 
 down, I subjoin that of the one now alluded to. Whether 
 such things are unworthy of a memorial, or whether the 
 pen which perpetuates them is debased, is not for me to 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 171 
 
 determine, but the improvement in the style in which 
 they are recorded is remarkable, and not, I should 
 imagine, to be excelled. And who can doubt but that 
 this adds to their celebrity ? " The Athenians," says 
 Sallust, "were clever fellows, but they owed much to 
 their historians, who made them as clever as their own 
 wit and talent could represent them," 
 
 " Harlston, in Norfolk, July 30. — Yesterday, in the 
 afternoon. Slack and Pettit met and fought. At the first 
 set-to, Pettit seized Slack by the throat, and held him up 
 against the rails, and grained him so much as to make 
 him extremely black. This continued for half a minute 
 before Slack could break Pettit's hold, after which, for 
 near ten minutes, Pettit kept fighting and driving hard 
 at Slack, when at length Slack closed with his antagonist, 
 and gave him a very severe fall ; after that, a second and 
 third ; but between these falls Pettit threw Slack twice 
 off the stage, and, indeed, Pettit so much dreaded Slack's 
 falls, that he ran directly at his hams, and tumbled him 
 down, and by that means gave Slack an opportunity of 
 making the falls very easy. When they had been fighting 
 eighteen minutes, the odds ran against Slack, a guinea to 
 a shilling ; whereas, on first setting out, it was three or 
 four to one on his head ; but after this time Slack 
 shortened Pettit so as to disable him from running and 
 throwing him down in the manner he had done before 
 but obliged him to stand to close fighting. Slack then 
 closed one of his eyes, and beat him very much about 
 the face. At twenty minutes Pettit grew weaker, Slack 
 stronger. This was occasioned by Slack's straight way 
 of fighting. At twenty-two minutes, the best judge 
 allowed Slack to have the advantage over Pettit very 
 considerably, as he was then recovering his wind, which 
 was owing to game. When they had boxed twenty-four 
 minutes Pettit threw Slack again over the rails. This, 
 indeed. Slack suffered him to do, as by that means he 
 fixed a blow under Pettit's ribs, that hurt him much. 
 Whilst Slack was again getting upon the stage (it was not 
 half a minute before he was remounted), Pettit had so 
 much the fear of his antagonist before his eyes, that he 
 walked off without so much as civilly taking leave of the 
 spectators, or saying anything to any person. This the 
 backers call rogueing of it, for it is generally thought 
 that he ran away full strong. The whole time of their 
 
172 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 fighting was twenty-five minutes ; and this morning the 
 battle was given to Slack, who drew the first ten guineas 
 out of the box. Thus ended this dreadful combat.'' 
 
 The month of May having arrived, our hero after a 
 fortnight's good sport in trout-fishing, repaired to " the 
 great city" for several weighty purposes. One was to 
 make up matters with his uncle, by convincing him, 
 which was true, that he had no business in Parliament ; 
 another, to purchase two more horses at Tattersall's ; 
 and here he was guided by the advice of one able to 
 tender it. 
 
 " Purchase those," said his adviser, " which have been 
 ridden over grass countries, such as Leicestershire or 
 Northamptonshire, where the fences are high and wide, 
 and where there are brooks. Half the horses called 
 hunters are all but worthless to hard-riding men, by 
 having been ridden in countries where the fences are 
 chiefly dead hedges, with small ditches and timber, but 
 no strong, live, blackthorn hedges, which horses must 
 push through, and leap a wide ditch beyond them as well, 
 and where there are no brooks of any width, many of 
 which, indeed, horses can walk through." 
 
 He took his friend's advice, and purchased two well- 
 seasoned geldings that had had many a hot spirt over the 
 deep vale of Belvoir, and the cream of the Quorndon 
 country, and at the moderate price of 300 guineas for 
 the two. 
 
 Epsom and Ascot were also taken in their turn, and 
 neither of them without their impression on our hero. 
 When contemplating with himself, at the latter place, as 
 to the means by which he could put his resolves into 
 effect, as to once signalizing himself on the turf, the 
 following rather curious coincidence happened. He was 
 thus accosted by his friend Dauntley : — 
 
 "I have a word to say to you, Raby," said he. "I 
 have just heard of a person in a retired part of Wales, — 
 a devilish good judge of racing, mind ye, — who has 
 two two-year-old fillies of his own breeding (and very 
 well bred they are) to sell, and both are in the next 
 year's Oaks. He will take 400 guineas for them, and I 
 strongly recommend you to purchase them, as you wish 
 to have a shy at the turf. At all events, they are 
 dog-cheap." 
 
 "Cheap enough, no doubt," replied Frank, "but I must 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 173 
 
 look out for the money before I open my mouth wider. 
 I cannot spare such a sum out of my allowance." 
 
 " Certainly not," replied Lord Dauntley ; " but I will 
 manage that part of the affair. I will lend you the 
 money, and I have a friend who will let the fillies run in 
 his name, and they can go to my trainer's, or any other 
 you may prefer." 
 
 No sooner said than done. The fillies — and very clever 
 ones they were — were purchased, and, soon after the 
 following Christmas, put into training in the name of 
 Darkin, but, as they had not made their appearance as 
 two-year-olds, were not even named in the betting. In 
 fact, in the true acceptation of the term, they were dark 
 ones. 
 
 Nothing very remarkable occurred to our hero during 
 his stay in London, which did not exceed six weeks, 
 although he was very far from being idle. In addition to 
 the purchase of the two hunters, he gave orders for a 
 comfortable travelling post-chaise to one of the best 
 builders in the Acre, and furnished his saddle-room with 
 everything wanting for his stud. He also purchased two 
 brace of greyhounds, at rather a high figure, which, after 
 having defeated the parson's famous bitch, Fly, that had 
 been the terror of the club in his neighbourhood for two 
 successive years, he made a present of to Perren, having 
 no turn for coursing. Having then replenished his 
 fishing-book with some of the best tackle and flies, he 
 took leave of his uncle, whose house had been his home 
 during his visit, his uncle taking leave of him in nearly 
 these words : — 
 
 " God bless you, Frank ; I wish our pursuits were more 
 congenial ; but still, although they are as wide apart as 
 the poles, I wish you to excel in yours, as I might have 
 excelled in mine, but for a constitutional infirmity. This," 
 l)utting a £100 iDank-note into his hand, " will not retard 
 your progress ; and if at any time you require the fellow 
 to it, you have nothing more to do than to say so. " 
 
 The month of August found our hero snugly domiciled 
 in the Highlands of Scotland, on the shooting-ground 
 engaged by Lord Dauntley, and where, with the accession 
 of another friend of his Lordship, a delightful month was 
 passed. The return of the game killed was as follows, 
 which was not amiss for that period, when it was not so 
 abundant as at present : — 
 
174 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 Black'grouse, seven and a half brace ; red grouse, eighty- 
 five brace ; ptarmagan, three and a half brace ; red deer, 
 seven ; and roe, thirteen. 
 
 But something more important and more durable than 
 grouse and deer was the result of this excursion. The trio 
 returned to England with their nerves braced, ready to 
 crack, by the exercise upon, and the breathing the air of, 
 the truly romantic regions of the north ; and each came 
 to the resolution that the excursion should be repeated 
 during the next twenty years, should life and health be 
 so long granted to them to enjoy it, for this was true en- 
 joyment. Exclusive of the actual diversion on the moors, 
 everything they ate was delicious ; the champagne and 
 claret were nectar ; their beds were beds of roses ; but 
 why ? Because hunger is the best sauce ; exercise refines 
 the palate, and gives additional goiU to wine ; and hard 
 must be that bed on which sound and refreshing sleep is 
 denied to the man who has had a good day's grouse-shoot- 
 ing over the Scotch hills, or those of any other country on 
 which that noble game is to be found ! There was, indeed, 
 but one drawback from the sum-total of happiness, of 
 which this party were partakers, and this was — "the 
 reckoning." Including the rent of the shooting-ground, 
 it amounted to nearly £600, to be divided into three parts, 
 our hero's j)roportion being rather an awkward set-otf 
 against the annual amount of his income, which, as has 
 been already stated, did not exceed £800. To the others 
 of the party it was a flea-bite. 
 
 In the circle of British sports, fox-hunting ever must 
 and will take the precedence ; and towards the end of 
 October, having, up to that period, hunted with his 
 father's harriers, and satisfied himself of the efliciencj^ of 
 his stud, Frank Baby determined on making his debut as 
 a fox-hunter, but not his election of hounds and country, 
 until experience of some of the best of them had fully 
 enabled him to decide as to which to give the preference. 
 Of Oxfordshire he had had a taste during his residence at 
 Oxford, and this was the opinion he had formed of it : — 
 the hill country was light and uncertain with regard to 
 scent, but a clean and gentlemanlike one to ride over, and 
 contained many excellent sportsmen. The vale called tlie 
 Bicester country was jDreferable ; he considered it, despite 
 of its large woods on one side of it, and the almost fathom- 
 less depth of its soil after a hard frost succeeded by rain, 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 175 
 
 what may be termed a fox-hunting country, and he had 
 seen some fine runs in it. A criterion of the strength of 
 it, he used to say, might be ascertained by the fact, that 
 not only did the Oxford livery stable-keepers charge a 
 third more for horses ridden over it by the gownsmen than 
 they did for those ridden over the hill country, but the 
 calculation of falls, by the riders of them, was in the pro- 
 portion of three to one in favour of the vale ; that is to 
 say, there were three falls in the vale, to one in the hill 
 country. But the Northamptonshire side of the country, 
 he used to say, cannot be ridden over without falls by a 
 man who is determined to be with hounds. 
 
 There was likewise another country which he had had 
 a taste of when at Oxford, and that was what was called 
 the Vale of White Horse, adjoining to the Craven country ; 
 and, although in the county of Berks, some of its best 
 covers were within easy reach of Oxford. He liked parts 
 of that country much ; being a dairy country, it abounded 
 in fine large grass fields, and he was told that such parts 
 of it strongly resembled Leicestershire. He had also a 
 regard for it, on another consideration. In a fine run from 
 Pusey Firs, he was one of only five who cleared the Rosey 
 Brook, himself taking the lead upon Achilles, although, 
 as somewhat of a take oft' from the merit of it, it had been 
 leaped, nearly in the same place, by Mr. Barry Price, 
 upon his famous horse called Monarch, a few days before 
 — the said Mr. Barry Price being eighteen stone plum 
 weight in the scales. But the Rosey Brook is, in most 
 places, a very serious affair. 
 
 Our hero, up to this period, had had but a slight taste 
 of Warwickshire, and this at two of its least inviting fix- 
 tures ; namely, Wolford Wood and Witchford Wood, 
 almost the only two covers within possible reach of Ox- 
 ford men ; roughish places, both of them, but often hold- 
 ing, as most rough places do, very capital foxes. But 
 Frank Raby had heard enough of Warwickshire to induce 
 him to make it his election for his dehut on the fox- 
 hunter's stage, so sent his stud to Stratford-on-Avon, the 
 headquarters of the Hunt ; and arrived there himself, in 
 his travelling chaise, on the evening of the fourth of 
 November, anno Domini, 1803. 
 
 He found a highly finished gentleman at the head of 
 this establishment, in the person of Mr. Corbet, of Sun- 
 dorue Castle, Shropshire, who himself sustained the 
 
176 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 expenses of it, keeping a complement of hounds and horses 
 for four days a week, and occasionally a fifth ; having two 
 kennels, one at Stratford-on-Avon, and another at Minden, 
 near Coventry, whence the country called " The Mereden " 
 was hunted at two difi'erent periods in the season, but 
 chiefly in the spring, for which it is eminently adapted. 
 He soon obtained an introduction to the meml3ers of the 
 Stratford Hunt Club, whom he found living together on 
 the best j^ossible terms — Mr. Corbet joining them at 
 dinner on every Thursday in the week, and commonly 
 entertaining some of them on the other six days. He 
 found a man hunting these hounds, whom, although he 
 was too young to give an opinion on his merits as a hunts- 
 man, he pronounced to be the finest horseman, in the form 
 of a servant, he had ever hitherto seen ; and it was told of 
 him that, during his service with that eminent sportsman, 
 Mr, Childe, of Kinlet Hall, in Shropshire, as whipper-in, 
 he was the only man in his establishment that he would 
 eA'er sufi'er to mount the horses he himself rode. His 
 name was William Barrow, commonly called Will Barrow, 
 and his brother Jack, also good in his place, acted as his 
 first whip. He saw a month's very good sport with these 
 hounds, and he saw some right good sportsmen in the 
 field ; but what surprised him most, was the fact that the 
 two leading men over this strongly fenced and, in parts, 
 very deep country, weighed, with their saddles, good 
 seventeen stone. The name of these eminent horsemen 
 and sportsmen was Canning, the elder possessing a large 
 property in the country, and the younger also in posses- 
 sion of a very considerable income. But the most extra- 
 ordinary pari of the history of these gentlemen as sports- 
 men, is the fact of their having — by reason of being 
 Catholics — been educated abroad, and never seeing a fox- 
 hound in the field until past their twenty-fifth year. The 
 younger, Mr. Eobert Canning, was the finest horseman of 
 the two ; but their knowledge of fox-hunting, and their 
 judgment in riding to hounds, were not inferior to those 
 of the most experienced sportsman of the day. Mr. 
 Hawkes, so celebrated as an amateur jockey, and a con- 
 spicuous man with Mr. Meynell's hounds in Leicester- 
 shire, also then resided in Warwickshire, and was occasion- 
 ally seen, and, as it fell out at this identical time, by our 
 hero, gallantly crossing its large grass enclosures on his 
 thorough-bred nags, delighted with the cheering voice of 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 177 
 
 Will Barrow to his " lasses," as he was used to call the 
 bitch pack ; and, certainly, no human voice ever exceeded 
 his in a view-halloo or a cheer. But 
 
 " \\Tiat more grateful to the ear, 
 Thau the voice that speaks to cheer ? " 
 
 There was another very remarkable character, in the 
 shape of a sportsman of the old school, residing in the 
 town of Stratford, but a member of the Stratford Hunt, 
 and an intimate friend of Mr. Corbet. His name was 
 Stubbs ; and so insatiate was he of hunting, that, on the 
 vacant days of the foxhounds, he hunted with his own 
 harriers ; and, indeed, on one occasion, on a Sunday, when 
 a fox broke out of his saddle- room, during divine service. 
 " Saddle the dun horse," said he to his man, when he told 
 him ^^llat had happened, and he immediately put his 
 hounds on the scent. But what was most remarkable in 
 this very zealous fox - hunter, was the fact that, when 
 hounds ran straight across a country, he could neither see 
 nor hear him, as he could not persuade himself to leap 
 fences ; and yet, from his great knowledge of the country, 
 he was generally up soon after the finish, whatever that 
 might be, Mr. Corbet also surprised our hero by his great 
 dislike to fences, which he found it difficult to reconcile 
 with the enthusiasm he exhibited in the chase ; he, how- 
 ever, by being mounted on very speedy horses, and not 
 afraid to gallop over the icorst sort of ground, saw a great 
 deal of the sport, appearing at times in a good place when 
 very little expected. And Frank Raby took a leaf out of 
 his book, as regarded his hunters, of which he had always 
 a score of a very good sort. He purchased them, when 
 foals, from his tenants and other farmers in Shropshire, 
 which county has always been celebrated for good hunting 
 blood. 
 
 Our hero's opinion of Warwickshire was this. He found 
 a great many bad fixtures for hounds in it, although it 
 was possible that, even from them, by taking a certain 
 line, a fine run, over a fine country, was on the cards. 
 For example, he went one morning a long distance to a 
 cover which was in bad repute with the Hunt, and 
 whence he was told he had scarcely a chance of a run. 
 The fox led him over twelve miles of country, at the very 
 best pace, with only one ploughed field by*^ the way, no 
 river to cross, and only two brooks, and those not serious 
 12 
 
178 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 ones I But lie found some parts of the country whicli 
 could not be excelled anywhere — and these to"^ a large 
 extent ; and that part which was not good had this 
 redeeming quality : — a blank day in AVarwickshire, at 
 this time, was as rare as a black swan in all other 
 countries. 
 
 After a month's sojourn in Warwickshire, where he 
 received some kind attention from several of the principal 
 families, which his name and connections might have 
 insured him, he took his departure for Northampton, and 
 became domiciled at the George Inn, in the county town, 
 one of the most comfortable in England. The country — 
 the word county is obsolete, in alluding to hunting 
 districts — was then occupied by Mr. Warde, whose kennel 
 was at Pytchley, where the club was also established. 
 This was a fortunate circumstance for our hero, inasmuch 
 as it gave him an opportunity of witnessing the proceed- 
 ings of what may be termed the second great sportsman 
 of that day — the immortal Meynell, although at that 
 time about to retire from the field, being the first. He 
 was much struck with the peculiar character of the 
 hounds, combining gigantic limbs and extraordinary 
 height and strength, with high form and symmetry ; and 
 their steadiness in chase was also at once conspicuous. 
 The turn-out, however, w^as not equal to Mr. Corbet's. 
 There was something like an affected disregard of appear- 
 ances in the costume of the men, and the horses were 
 of a coarser description. Still it was altogether sports- 
 manlike, for a sportsman was at the head of the establish- 
 ment. 
 
 Our hero regretted that he was a few years too late in 
 his visit to this country, by which he lost an opportunity 
 not likely to return : this was, of seeing the celebrated 
 Dick Knight, huntsman to Lord Spencer, who formerly 
 hunted the country ; and whose portrait, from the pencil 
 of Mr. Loraine Smith, had helped to adorn the walls of 
 his room in Christchurch College. His noble master, 
 however, he had the pleasure of meeting in the field, and 
 seeing him keep a very good place in the run of an hour 
 and twenty minutes, from Winnick Warren, a cover on 
 the Daventry side the country ; his Lordship's son, then 
 Lord Althorp, who afterwards hunted the country, also 
 being one who saw the finish and the death. But, until 
 Frank Baby met Mr. Warde's hounds at a cover in the 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 179 
 
 Crick country, he never knew the extent to which the 
 man who rides after hounds is opposed in his attempts 
 to go straight. Although mounted on the General, one 
 of the finest fencers in England — at least in the parts of 
 England in which he had previously been hunted — he 
 got three falls in little more than as many miles, and 
 lamented that it had not been the turn of one of his 
 newly purchased horses to have carried him on that day, 
 as they were more accustomed than the General to make 
 their way through the enormous blackthorn hedges — to 
 say nothing of the ditches, brooks, and timber, with which 
 this part of Xorthamptonshire abounds. Frank, however, 
 left the country very highly enamoured of it. It appeared 
 to him to leave both Oxfordshire and Warwickshire very 
 far in the shade, and he nearly despaired — not but that 
 there are some rough fixtures in Northamptonshire — of 
 ever seeing a better. In fact, when he was told that 
 there were woodlands in it, near to the town of Kettering, 
 the property of the Duke of Buccleugh, in which were 
 seventy miles of finely rideable avenues, from which 
 hounds could never be out of sight of the men, for the 
 purposes of cub and spring hunting, he seemed to make 
 up his mind that, taken for all in all, Northami^tonshire 
 as a hunting country could not he much excelled. 
 
 As may be imagined, for it is particularly the case with 
 young sportsmen, our hero noticed the best horsemen in 
 each country he visited, and those of Northamptonshire 
 did not escape his rather discerning eye. Mr. Warde 
 never shone as a rider ; that is, he was not, even in those 
 days, what is called a fast man over the country ; nor, 
 indeed, have there been more than a dozen " fast men " 
 of his weight since the world was created ; but his two 
 brothers went well : Harry Warde, as he was called (after- 
 wards General Sir Harry), in particular, quite tip-top ; 
 and what very much surprised the " young one," was the 
 fact of his very best horse being a roarer. Then there 
 was one man in the throng, to whose horsemanship rather 
 a far-fetched ejDithet might be applied ; it was heautiful. 
 I allude to Mr. Davy, who has hunted in Northampton- 
 shire, I believe, ever since ; and, as somewhat of a strange 
 coincidence, there was a singular defect in his best horse. 
 He had but half an eye, having quite lost the sight of 
 one, and a cataract was formed over part of the pupil of 
 the other. He called him Skylark, and a brilliant hunter 
 
i8o THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 he was. There was something aristocratic in the names 
 of these horses — that of the first being ^tar, and the other 
 Skylark. And, liy the way, Frank Eaby heard an extra- 
 ordinary fact related of this elegant horseman, Mr. Davy. 
 He got a fall in Oxfordshire, and was thrown beyond his 
 horse's head, to the ground. On looking back for his 
 horse, he was no7i est inventus. He had fallen back into 
 an old, deep well, the covering of which had given way 
 under him, as he leaped on it. 
 
 Raby, for it may be as well now, sometimes, to drop 
 the Frank, had the pleasure of dining several times at 
 the club — the famous Pytchley Club, of which so much 
 has been heard and said. Nothing could be more agree- 
 able, and so Mr. Warde himself said. — "All very well 
 but the reckoning," was the praise he always bestowed 
 upon it. But Mr. Warde himself added prodigiously to 
 the agreeableness of this club, and the high social feeling 
 that pervaded all the members of it. And, as regarded 
 our hero, he was thus heard, on one occasion, to express 
 himself : — 
 
 " This young Raby is a promising lad ; I think he M'ill 
 do, in time, especially if he stays with us for a season or 
 two. I saw him out once, when a schoolboy, in the last 
 country I hunted, and devilish well he went. His father 
 is a hare-hunter, but the young one won't have that ; 
 he flies at higher game ; and, as he will be well breeched 
 some day — for, independent of his father, they tell me he 
 has a rich uncle, likely to choke in his collar, who will 
 leave him lots of the ready — I should not be surprised to 
 see him one of us, in another sense. He has asked me a 
 great many questions about hounds, the breeding them, 
 &c., to which I have generally replied, ' Keep mine in 
 your eye, sir, and you will do well, should you have a 
 pack of your own, which no doubt you will, when one of 
 the old ones goes to ground.' He has also a great mind to 
 be a coachman, which Inkleton has given him a taste for. 
 I told him to go to Jack Bailey, of the Birmingham 
 'Prince of Wales' coach, for instruction, when he told 
 me he was his pupil when at Eton. ' Then you will do,' 
 said I ; * Jack himself is a pattern-card for patience and 
 prudence, having need of both ; for heavy loads and weak 
 horses, on bad roads, have made him such. In short, he 
 is a coachman ; and I advise you, if you mean to get 
 upon your own box, to take as many leaves as you can 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN i8i 
 
 out of his book. It will be worth all the Greek an 1 
 Latin you brought with you from Eton.' " 
 
 So much for the Pytchley Hunt of those days. Not only 
 
 " Those joyous hours are passed away, 
 And many a heart that then was gay," 
 
 has long since ceased to beat, but the master of the 
 pack, after a stout struggle, has been obliged to yield to 
 that common destiny of our nature, which, sooner or 
 later, awaits us all. Peace to his ashes ; his system and 
 himself are gone together. 
 
 During his stay, our young sportsman had one day 
 with the well-known pack of the late justly celebrated 
 Lord Fitzwilliam, whose extensive country embraced 
 parts of Xorthamptonshire and all Huntingdonshire, 
 besides the Yorkshire woodlands for cub-hunting. The 
 fixture was Stanwick Pastures, one of great note, but far 
 from being one of the best. The scene, however, was 
 such as amused our hero much, since, from being within 
 reach of Cambridge, it reminded him of olden times. In 
 one direction were to be seen knocked-up hacks, broken- 
 down tandems, with the leaders scarcely able to make a 
 walk of it, from the flankings they had received from their 
 rather merciless drivers, in their anxiety to display their 
 art ; in another, four or five of the better sort of college 
 sportsmen, whose finances had allowed of their sending 
 hacks forward overnight, coming along at a good cover-hack 
 pace, without showing distress ; while, just as the fox was 
 found, up drove a post-chaise, at a gallop, with three red- 
 coats inside, and two on the bar ! One or two of these 
 aspirants were well known to Frank Raby, and amongst 
 the lot — quite as many as could be expected — four or five 
 of them rode well and judiciously to the hounds, through- 
 out a really good run of an hour over a right stiff country. 
 
 Young Raby's next move was to Leicester, where he 
 took up his abode at the "Three Crowns Inn," the 
 principal one of that day, and about as bad as most 
 country inns of that day Avere found to be. On his road, 
 in his travelling carriage, he amused himself by booking 
 a few of Mr. Warde's sayings and hints, amongst which 
 were the following : — 
 
 " Half the goodness of a horse goes in at his mouth. 
 
 " Never buy a horse from a rich man who hunts ; or 
 from a poor man, till you have tried him. 
 
i82 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 " Never believe a word any man says about a horse lie 
 wisbes to sell — not even a bishop. 
 
 " Never keep a drinking man, nor a very pretty maid- 
 servant. 
 
 " Never refuse a good dinner from home, unless you 
 have a better at home. 
 
 " Breed your hounds with bone and nose : without the 
 one they will tire ; without the other, become slack." 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 The debut in Leicestershire — Frank Raby hunts with the Quorn 
 under Lord Sefton, with Lord Lonsdale's, and with the Duke 
 of Rutland's hounds. 
 
 THE fixture for the Quorn hounds, then lately become 
 the property of Lord Sefton, being very distant from 
 Leicester, Frank Raby had a day to dispose of, and occu- 
 pied it in a visit to Quorn, for the purpose of looking 
 over the establishment, and much as his expectations had 
 been excited, the reality very much exceeded them. He 
 found more than sixty couples of working hounds in the 
 kennel, exclusive of the pack that day in the field, and 
 they were shown to him by John Raven, one of his Lord- 
 ship's huntsmen — Stephen Goodall, the other huntsman, 
 being at work on that day. Then, in one stable he saw 
 twenty-eight hunters, all in the finest condition, the 
 building being so contrived that each horse could be seen 
 from his head to his tail by a person standing in the 
 centre of it. In the boxes, he saw some of his Lordship's 
 best horses — Plato, Rowland, and Gooseberry amongst 
 them, which cost little less than 1000 guineas apiece — 
 and they excited his admiration, not onl.v by their high 
 form, but by their condition, which equalled everything 
 that Mr. Somerby had told him of it during his visit to 
 Amstead, and to which we have already alluded. They 
 were shown to him by Mr. Potter, his Lordship's head 
 groom, who told him that "every gentleman's hunters 
 might be in as good condition as Lord Sefton's were, pro- 
 vided they were similarly treated, and not turned out to 
 grass in the summer." 
 
 There being no one about the house but servants, Frank 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 183 
 
 Kaby ventured to walk through the grounds of Quorndon 
 Hall (for such is the name of this celebrated hunting-box), 
 celebrated as having been the property and residence of 
 Mr. Meynell, and purchased of him by Lord Sefton — and 
 found it exactly what Mr. Somerby had represented it to 
 be ; namely, a complete residence for a sportsman, afford- 
 ing all necessary accommodation, though divested of un- 
 necessary ornament, and pretending to nothing beyond 
 the residence of a quiet country gentleman. The grounds, 
 however, he found rather prettily laid out, having the 
 advantage of the river Soar running through them ; not 
 that there is much to admire beyond the fact of its being 
 water — which makes all scenery agreeable — in the still and 
 even flow of a deep Leicestershire stream. 
 
 The next day to this was one of intense interest to our 
 hero, who was to make his first appearance with hounds 
 in Leicestershire, having been informed by a letter from 
 Mr. Somerby, that he had taken stables and apartments 
 for him at Melton Mowbray, and that he should have much 
 pleasure in paving the way to his arrival thither, by intro- 
 ducing him to some of the leading characters of the Quorn, 
 and also of the neighbouring hunts. He felt a buoyancy of 
 heart almost inexpressible on the occasion ; in fact, he 
 never before felt it beat so high, for, although fearless 
 in his person, he could not divest himself of the notion 
 that riding to hounds over Leicestershire, and amongst 
 Leicestershire men, was something very different to what 
 he had hitherto seen it in what Leicestershire men call 
 the " provincials." His master-])assion, however, was well 
 roused on the occasion, and, without indulging himself in 
 the absurdity of being able to " dare impossibilities," was 
 determined to do his best. 
 
 The fixture was Cream Lodge Gorse, in the townshi]^ of 
 Great Dalby, and no misnomer either, forasmuch as it is 
 in the cream of the Quorn country ; and a horse called 
 Gentleman, one of the two purchased at Tattersall's, was 
 sent forward by our young sportsman for the occasion, he 
 himself following on his hack, his carriage having been 
 despatched to Melton with his luggage. On his arrival at 
 the cover, he was immediately met by Mr. Somerby, and, 
 in the course of the day, introduced by him to the follow- 
 ing leading characters of those truly sporting days : — 
 
 To Lord Sefton, of course, as master of the hounds, and 
 also to Mr. Meynell, who, although no longer a master, 
 
i84 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 was in the field ; to the Lords Villieis, Maynard, Charles 
 Somerset, Craven, and loley ; to the Honourable George 
 Germaine, the Honourable Robert Grosvenor, the Honour- 
 able Joshua Vanneck, the Honourable Berkeley Craven, 
 and the Honourable Martin Hawke ; to Sirs John Shelley, 
 Robert Langley, Henry Peyton, and Stephen Glynne ; to 
 Messieurs Cecil Forester, Thomas Cholmondeley, Loraine 
 Smith, Childe of Kinlet, Charles Meynell, Harvey Aston, 
 John Musters, Thomas Assheton Smith, Lindon, Langton, 
 John Hawkes, John Lochley, and Jacob Wardell. 
 
 But he was nearly lost in admiration at the splendid 
 sight that presented itself. In addition to the gratifica- 
 tion of seeing what was considered the crack pack of fox- 
 hounds of all Europe, in the crack country, with John 
 Raven as their huntsman, of whom he had heard such a 
 character from Mr. Somerby, together with the above- 
 named galaxy of sportsmen, and at least 150 well- 
 mounted men besides, several of whom were eminent men 
 in this line — indejDendently of all this, I say, he saw no 
 less than six sj^lendid teams — the noble master's amongst 
 them — that had been driven to cover by their owners, as 
 was very much the fashion of those highly aristocratic, 
 as well as "truly sporting days." And why should I 
 not name them ? They were the teams of Lords Sefton 
 and Foley ; of the Honourable Martin Hawke ; of Sirs 
 Henry Peyton and Stephen Glynne ; and of Mr. Harvey 
 Aston. In fact, he had now before his eyes, what were, 
 in those days, popularly considered, hounds, horses, men, 
 and country not to be equalled in any j^art of the world, 
 and that, it must be allowed, is saying a great deal. 
 
 Although foxes in Leicestershire were not at this time 
 so plentiful as they are at present, the amount of noses on 
 the Quorn kennel door averaging little more than fifty 
 brace, and this with, perhaps, the best hounds in England, 
 — a smart little empty vixen went gallantly away from 
 Cream Gorse this morning, in less than ten minutes after 
 the pack were thrown into it, and none the slower for one 
 of John Raven's thrilling view-halloos as she crept out of 
 the gorse nearly under his own horse's feet. ^^ Possunt, 
 quia posse videntur,^^ being the Leicestershire men's motto, 
 they only waited for some part of the hounds to get upon 
 the scent before they were all at their speed, determined 
 to be with them, let whatever might oppose them ; in 
 other words, to go till they fell, or their horses could no 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 185 
 
 longer go. And this was the way in which they did go, 
 at least such of them as came under the notice of our hero, 
 who thus noted them in his book, and sent a copy of his 
 remarks to Sir John : — 
 
 "Jacob Wardell, on a weedy thorough-bred one, looking 
 nearly a,s fit to be carried by, as to carry his rider, with a 
 hooked stick in his right hand, one end of it resting on 
 his shoulder, and his own head nearly as high as the top 
 of it, went away with the lead at a jjace that could scarcely 
 be maintained on a race-course, still less over ridge and 
 furrowed grass land, on a stiff clay bottom ; and, although 
 he held the lead gallantly for the first four fields, was at 
 length laid flat on his back in a wide, broad ditch, and 
 leaped over, as he lay there, by Forester, and three more 
 whose persons I could not distinguish, being a good land's 
 length in the rear of them. By a lucky turn in my favour, 
 however, I soon got alongside them, and found them to 
 be Lord Villiers on one of his two famous black horses 
 that Mr. Somerby had told me of, Mr. Childe, Mr. 
 Cholmondeley, and Mr. Smith, Mr. Germaine and Mr. 
 Musters lying a little to their left. I was delighted to 
 find myself in such company, but fearing I should soon be 
 cut by them, as we used to say at Eton, and recollecting 
 an aphorism of Egerton's, that example is the best in- 
 structor, I determined on endeavouring to follow Mr. 
 Forester so long as my horse enabled me to do so. And 
 now for the result, which I could not have believed prior 
 to the experience of it. When, at about half a field's 
 distance from him, I saw him take each fence as it came, 
 I repeatedly said within myself, that's nothing at all 
 events — adding, where are your big Leicestershire fences .^ 
 But I was as oftentimes deceived, when I came up to them, 
 by finding them very big. Biit hoiu is this? I would 
 exclaim. Neither Forester nor his horse appeared to 
 make more exertion to get over those strong bullock 
 fences than they might have made in clearing a dead 
 hedge and small ditch. I was told it was all the effect 
 of hand — of handing his horses, as it were, easily and 
 tenderly over their fences ; not allowing them to leap a 
 yard higher, or farther, than was necessary. That is the 
 man for me. 
 
 " But I was soon obliged to decline keeping such good 
 company ; the pace was beyond what I had been used 
 to, and my place was taken by Sir Henry Peyton on 
 
i86 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 Watchmaker, Lord Foley, and Lindon, who appeared to 
 be just about my own age. This gave me encouragement. 
 ' I see the young ones can do it,' said I ; ' so I must not 
 despair.' But where were the old ones ? Why, in about 
 three more fields I heard a thrilling scream, that seemed 
 to enter into my soul, and looking to my left, there saw 
 Mr. Meynell, and also Mr. Loraine Smith, who, having 
 taken advantage of a turn, the result of a quick eye, were 
 then close to the pack. But where was Martin Hawke, of 
 whose desperate style of riding I had been told so much 
 by Mr. Somerby. He was not then to be seen, having 
 had a fall over a gate which would have stopped a red- 
 deer. But what surprised me most, was the pace at which 
 Lord Sefton passed me in the middle of a large field, and 
 the quickness with which he made up his ground, having 
 had a bad start. Young Eaven, the huntsman's son, 
 however, was behind him, mounted on one of his horses, 
 on to which he jumped at the very first opportunity ; and 
 well it was that he did so, for neither money nor condi- 
 tion could maintain that speed long under sixteen stone. 
 Still there were several heavy men going well ; amongst 
 them, Mr. Lockly, on a superb horse, called Confidence, 
 for which I heard he had refused 800 guineas. But tliis 
 reminds me of a sad disaster, which chilled the pleasure 
 of this fine run. At the first check, Mr. Loraine Smith's 
 horse, whose name I understood was Hollyhock, and for 
 which Lord Sefton had oflered him the above-named sum, 
 dropped down dead, from a rupture of a blood-vessel at 
 the heart. Neither was this the sole disaster. A horse 
 called Hermit, ridden by Captain St. Paul, and which he 
 had only just purchased at the, even then, stift' price of 
 700 guineas, stood stock-still in the middle of a field, and 
 was only saved from death by copious bleeding by his 
 master. This, however, gave rise to a rather ludicrous 
 circumstance. A caricature appeared in London, repre- 
 senting the scene, these words being written underneath 
 it : — ' An apostle administering comfort to a distressed 
 hermit.' 
 
 "Up to this time — say twenty minutes — I had been 
 carried, as I thought, well ; indeed, one gentleman, whose 
 name I did not know, said to me, ' You are going well, 
 • sir ; ' upon which I stroked my horse's neck with my 
 hand, and said to myself, ' I have got a superior horse.' 
 But I was rather premature in my praises. He very soon 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 187 
 
 did wliat I did not at all like. He put his fore feet into 
 a ditch, dropped his hinder legs in a small brook, struck 
 the top rail of a timber fence very hard indeed, and was 
 altogether not by half so pleasant a horse to ride as he 
 had been for the first ten minutes. To say the truth, I 
 began not to like it, for the fences got very large and 
 strong, at least so they appeared to me. 
 
 " 'A very stiff country this, sir,' said I to a gentleman 
 in black, who appeared to be going very much at his ease ; 
 ' devilish big fences, sir,' 
 
 '" Pretty well for that, sir,' he replied; 'but you are 
 young enough, and strong enough. You've nothing to do 
 but to throw your heart over them, and follow it.' 
 
 " My heart, however, proved stouter than my horse. I 
 went boring along, losing ground in every field we entered, 
 and being obliged to turn away from a stiff stile, with a 
 footbridge over a brook on the rising side, which I knew 
 I had not in me at the time, I lost sight of the leading 
 men, and of the hounds of course, only making my appear- 
 ance at the last, by the help of a turnpike road, with the 
 rest of the awkward squad, about ten minutes after the 
 fox had been killed, which he was, at the end of a 
 beautiful and very fast burst of thirty-eight minutes. 
 
 "Nevertheless, all things considered, I had not great 
 reason to be dissatisfied with the occurrences of this day. 
 I certainly was in a very good place the first quarter of an 
 hour, and not in a bad one the next five minutes ; and, 
 now I think of it, I can account for my not being able to 
 go well to the end of the run. I recollect hearing Mr. 
 Somerby sa}', when at Amstead, that there was a sort of, 
 not ad valorem, but ad virtutem, price upon horses that 
 were, as mine were, ' well known in Leicestershire.' ' It 
 depends,' said he, 'on how long they can go. For ex- 
 ample,' resumed he, ' a horse that can go well for twenty 
 minutes will always fetch his 100 guineas, and if half an 
 hour, double that sum.' Now as I only gave 150 guineas 
 for Gentlemen, at Tattersall's, I had no reason to expect 
 to have gone farther than I did on that money. I shall, 
 however, in future require a little exposition of the words, 
 ' well known in Leicestershire ' — whether for good, or for 
 evil. 
 
 " I was rather surprised to find, judging from the state 
 of my o%vn horse, and that of many others, that another 
 fox was to be drawn for, as, notwithstanding some of the 
 
i88 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 leading men monnted fresh horses, others rode the same 
 which had carried them so forward in the tirst severe 
 burst. This, however, was another proof of the superiority 
 of these horses ; and when next in want of hunters, it 
 shall be from amongst such as are known to do such 
 things that I shall make my selection, and not from those 
 which are well known to be able to jump a few tremendous 
 fences, and travel at the ultra pace for a short quarter of 
 an hour, and then shut up at once, or tumble in every 
 other fence at which their riders may put them," 
 
 Although our hero's Gentleman, with his hollow sides, 
 dejected countenance, extended nostrils, and dirty face — 
 for he had been twice down on his head, and only picked 
 up by the superior strength of his rider— had not the 
 aristocratic appearance which he had exhibited before the 
 hounds found, when he certainly looked quite lit to carry 
 a gentleman — and such he had on his back when he 
 carried Frank Raby — still he had enough left in him to 
 trot along with the hounds to Scraptoft, and see a second 
 find. This gave him an opportunity of throwing his eyes 
 over the hounds, which, it might be almost needless to 
 say, he admired beyond any that he had hitherto seen, not 
 only for their form, but their very business-like appear- 
 ance ; and, as may be supposed, the fact of their having 
 been bred by Mr. Meynell added not a little to their value 
 in the eyes of so young a sportsman. Then the three men, 
 having been Mr. Meynell's men, were equally pearls in 
 his eyes. He could not, indeed, but admire the appear- 
 ance of all three, for anything more characteristic could 
 scarcely be exhibited in the human form. As for John 
 Raven, he might have been shown as a pattern-card of his 
 order. His keen and piercing eye, beaming from out a 
 swarthy, but healthy skin, and strictly according in colour 
 with his black and curly hair — raven locks we might call 
 them — ^^just visible under his cap ; all this, added to his 
 well-proportioned form, cast in the very mould for strong 
 work, and of the right height for a horseman — and as such 
 he was first-rate — at once pronounced him entitled to the 
 character we have given of him. Neither were his two 
 whippers-in foils to him. Joe Harrison (Jones, the cork- 
 legged whipper-in, had then just retired, to the discom- 
 fiture of our hero, who wished to have seen the rara 
 avis) was an excellent sample of his craft, as was also Tom 
 Winkfield, with his one eye, and a countenance reminding 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 189 
 
 one of a fox. They were both capital horsemen ; indeed, 
 I think I may say of Winkfield, from the long experience 
 I had of his performance, that a better could not be found. 
 
 As this was one of the last days of Mr. Meynell appear- 
 ing in the field, it was fortunate for Frank Eaby that 
 something occurred to call his attention to his proceedings, 
 how trivial soever it might be. A small cover that lay on 
 the road to Scraptoft was tried, but it did not hold a fox. 
 One hound, however, threw his tongue once in the gorse 
 and no rate being heard, afiiid was considered certain. 
 
 " Have a care, Dromo," however, was heard from Mr. 
 Meynell, with one smack of his whip. It was no find ; 
 and on Lord Sefton approaching Mr. Meynell, he asked 
 him if he knew the tongue of the hound that spoke in the 
 gorse ? 
 
 " It was Dromo," said Meynell. 
 
 " I think not," replied his Lordship ; " Dromo was on 
 the other side of the cover, drawing very well." 
 
 " It was either Dromo or Drummer " (brothers, and one- 
 year hunters), resumed the veteran ; but as Eaven came 
 by with the pack, the question was at once decided. 
 
 " What hound spoke to a scent, John 1 " said Lord 
 Sefton. " Dromo, my Lord," replied Eaven. " I think 
 a fox has been through the gorse early in the night." This 
 showed the accuracy of Mr. Meynell's ear, and at a period 
 of life when such accuracy is not often exhibited. 
 
 It would not be worth while to recite the further doings 
 of this day, and this on two accounts : first, the day 
 altered, as we sportsmen say, and the pace could not be 
 maintained ; and secondly, if there had been a really 
 good thing, our hero could not have partaken of it, 
 forasmuch as Gentleman had not recovered the twister he 
 had had in the morning. To say the truth, he was a very 
 middling nag, and " well knowTi in Leicestershire " as such, 
 or 150 guineas, or even double that sum, would not have 
 purchased him at Tattersall's, for, like many other " gentle- 
 men," his appearance was very imposing. 
 
 On his arrival at Melton, our hero was much dis- 
 appointed at all he saw of the town as he rode to the 
 " Swan," the head inn of those days, but now a private 
 house ; and likewise with the inn itself, which was as bad 
 as bad could be. This, however, was a point of minor con- 
 sequence to Frank Eaby, inasmuch as by the introduction 
 of Mr. Somerby, in addition to the weight his own connec- 
 
igo THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 tions gave to liis name, he was seldom thrown on his own 
 resources for a dinner ; and on the very day of his arrival 
 was a guest at the Old Club, And there was, in the pro- 
 ceedings of this club, what much took his fancy. There 
 was a quiet, unaffected style in the dinner, although 
 dressed by a good man-cook, as well as in the way in 
 which the evening was passed, which he considered to 
 be quite in character with sportsmen. After a moderate 
 allowance of wine, tea and coffee were announced ; and 
 after an hour or two's amusement with cards, each man 
 retired to his couch, to be ready and fresh for the follow- 
 ing day. 
 
 And here the forthcoming day was productive of an 
 event which could have only occurred in this " metropolis 
 of fox-hunting," which Leicestershire is very properly 
 called ; but it was an event which our hero would 
 never have forgotten, had he lived a thousand years. 
 Having fallen asleep after his servant had called him, he 
 found himself almost alone in Melton, that is, amongst the 
 hunting men, all of them, with the exception of two — who, 
 as luck would have it, were going to the same hounds 
 as himself, those of the Earl of Lonsdale — having started 
 on their road to cover. The names of these individuals 
 he did not know at the time ; but on seeing them j)ass 
 the windows of his inn, he ordered out his cover-hack, and 
 followed them, at a respectful distance, along the London 
 turnpike-road, which it was highly necessary he should 
 have done, as he did not know his way to the cover, 
 nor was there anyone else to direct him. He had not, 
 however, proceeded more than two miles along this road, 
 before he saw his guides turn, at a right angle, through 
 a bridle-gate, and of course he turned through it also. 
 Three more bridle-gates were passed through at the 
 extremities of fine grass grounds, over which these two 
 crack horsemen, for such they were, went at a rate which 
 rather surprised our young sportsman, conceiving them 
 to be, like himself, riding their cover-hacks. No sooner 
 through the fourth gate, however, than a different line of 
 country presented itself. They left the bridle-road and 
 made for a sheep-pen in a corner, which they passed, and 
 then, leaping into and out of a lane, put their heads about 
 as straight as the crow flies, in the direction of a spire 
 which was in view. Our hero now began to find his 
 mistake— nay, more, that he was in a scrape ; for, although 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 191 
 
 the hack he was mounted on could get over certain fences, 
 at a certain pace, he began to find that, if he continued 
 at the pace these Meltonians were leading him over this 
 fine but choking country, he would soon be unable to leap 
 at all. He had nothing to do, then, but to pull up, and 
 endeavour to follow his guides, as Hercules did the oxen, 
 by the tracks of their horses' feet on the ground. 
 
 " All went well for the next five fields. The fences were 
 practicable, and as the distance from Melton was only 
 eight miles, our hero began to think that, from the pace 
 they had been going, he might still arrive before the fox 
 was found. But when in the middle of a very large field, 
 and in the act of descending from the highest part of it, 
 he saw what he suspected might prove to be death to all 
 his hopes. He saw, and apparently for miles right and 
 left, the valley he was about to descend into, not, in 
 poetical language — 
 
 "With rural dainties crown'd, 
 While opening blooms diffuse their sweets around," 
 
 where nothing was to be heard but the hum of insects, the 
 melody of birds, and the wild music of the shepherd's 
 pipe ; but he saw a long and undulating line of stumpy 
 old pollarded willow-trees, which too plainly convinced 
 him that a deep brook was in his line ; and as for the hum 
 of insects, the melody of birds, and the wild music of the 
 shepherd's pipe, not a thing could he hear, animate or 
 inanimate, beyond the puffing and blowing of his half- 
 tired horse, and the sort of sucking noise his feet made as 
 he pulled them out of the furrows of this highly ridged 
 field. 
 
 " Now, what is to be done ? " was the question he put to 
 himself, — and a serious question it was ; for should he 
 not be able to get to hounds, he greatly feared that many 
 a good laugh would be had at his expense, even should 
 he escape being shown up in a caricature as "a young 
 provincial gentleman going to cover in Leicestershire." 
 As to a bridge, or a ford, or a road, his eye looked for 
 either in vain ; and when he came down on the brook, 
 and saw where his two guides had taken it in their stroke, 
 he considered himself to be in the most trying situation in 
 which a young sportsman, similarly circumstanced, could 
 be placed. He recollected, however, that he had once 
 ridden the horse he was then on, and which had been 
 
192 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 hunted by a young farmer with his father's harriers, over 
 a brook nearly, if not quite, as wide as the one which now 
 unfortunately arrested his progress ; so he at once deter- 
 mined on riding at it. And he certainly gave him a fair 
 chance ; for it was not nntil he had turned his head to 
 the wind, and thereby enabled him to recover his strength 
 a little, that he put his intentions into execution. Taking 
 him, then, about twenty yards from its banks, he put him 
 manfully at the brook, which, as we say of the grave, 
 only yawned to receive him. Whether it was that he 
 wanted the excitement of the Amstead harriers, or whether 
 the Melton cover-hack pace was c[uite beyond his mark, 
 it is hard to determine, but this much is certain : — despite 
 of the resolute manner in which he was ridden at it ; 
 namely, with two good digs of the spurs on starting, a 
 refresher, when near the bank, by the whip, and a " Come 
 up " at rising, he only landed his fore legs on the bank, 
 falling backwards into the water, with our hero nnder- 
 neatli him, who might be said to have been anywhere but 
 in clover at the time. The upshot, however, was that, 
 having, after a lapse of nearly half an hour, got his horse 
 on the bank again, he retraced his steps to Melton, on 
 no very agreeable terms with himself, but with a full 
 determination to know beforehand to whom he should in 
 future look as pilots to direct his course over Leicestershire, 
 for in this instance he had made a sad mistake. 
 
 He had got into the wake not only of two of the best 
 men in the hunt, the afterwards great Tom Smith and Mr. 
 Vansittart, but, as is often the case with Meltonians who 
 possess large studs, they were not themselves on cover- 
 hacks, but on first-rate hunters, whose pipes they were 
 amusing themselves with opening, against their next day's 
 work with hounds, instead of leaving that task to their 
 servants, who, as they had known to their cost, could not 
 perform it so well. 
 
 As might be expected, many inquiries were made 
 respecting the absence of " young Raby," as he was called ; 
 for his having been introduced by Mr. Somerby, an 
 influential character in the hunt, together with his name 
 and connections, had rendered him an object of notice, 
 even with the Melton men, an honour not very often 
 conferred on persons of still greater pretensions. But 
 they liked the looks of young Raby. There was some- 
 thing manly and sj^ortsmanlike about him : in short, they 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 193 
 
 first considered him " a promising young one," a compliment 
 paid to him by Mr. Forester, no bad judge. To the ques- 
 tions put to our hero himself, he made the following candid 
 answer : " Why, I was very rightly served. I neglected 
 the observance of what ought to be a standing rule in all 
 situations of life, and in none more than in a sportsman's ; 
 namely, to ' take time by the forelock,' as the proverb has 
 it, and even to allow for the chapter of accidents. The 
 fact was, I was at my breakfast when I ought to have 
 been on my hack, and I paid dearly for my folly by 
 being soused over head and ears in a brook, besides losing, 
 as I understand, a fine day's sport. However, the lesson 
 will not be lost upon me, in having impressed two things 
 upon my mind ; first, to be wider awake on a hunting 
 morning ; secondly, the fact that a pretty good hunter 
 with my father's harriers is a devilish bad cover-hack in 
 Leicestershire." 
 
 The next day being Sunday, Frank Raby, after being in 
 church, for Melton men go to church, and hearing an 
 excellent discourse from Doctor Ford, on the empty 
 vanity of all human pursuits, was conducted by his friend 
 Somerby through several of the stables belonging to the 
 principal Melton men, which was to him a great treat. 
 The impression made upon him by this inspection was 
 conveyed to his friend, Sir John Inkleton, in a letter, of 
 which the following is a copy : — 
 
 "Melton, February 3, 1802. 
 "Dear Inkletox, — I promised to let you know how 
 I get on in Leicestershire. I made a bad start on Friday 
 with the Quorn ; — attempted to go the pace with the 
 leading men, and brought Gentleman to a standstill. I 
 think his place is ' the provincials,' as the top-sawyers here 
 call all countries but their own. However, I was much 
 pleased with their beautiful riding, and went as long as I 
 could. But, to use the vulgar phrase, I must either eat 
 more pudding, — that is, become older, — or buy better 
 horses, before I shall be able to go their pace, for it is 
 nearly the Bibury Welter pace. And yet I have no 
 reason to be displeased with my first day in Leicestershire. 
 Somerby introduced me to several of the dons, and, above 
 all, to Mr. Meynell, who equals all I have heard of him 
 in his manners and appearance. Lord Sefton does the 
 whole thing in first-rate style ; his huntsman, Raven (I 
 
 13 
 
194 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 have not seen Stephen Goodall), is worth riding fifty 
 miles to see. Every one says he is perfect in the field, 
 and has, what can be said of few, only one fault elsewhere. 
 He is rather too fond of his Lordship's good October. The 
 meet at Cream Lodge Gorse was such a sight as I never 
 thought I should see — but more of this when we meet. 
 
 " Yesterday I made a very ' bad cast,' as old Dick says. 
 I missed seeing a fine run with Lord Lonsdale's hounds 
 by oversleeping myself, and got well punished for so 
 doing. When I ought to have been half-way to cover, I 
 was at my breakfast, and by endeavouring to follow the 
 two last men out of Melton, but generally two of the first 
 in a run, on their cover-hacks, as I imagined, I got over 
 head in a brook, and was obliged to return without 
 seeing a hound. They proved to be Mr. Assheton Smith, 
 called here, par excellence no doubt, Tom Smith, and Mr. 
 Vansittart, both mounted uj)on hunters. 
 
 "I was much disappointed with Melton — I mean the 
 town, which is a poor place, but it contains many good 
 fellows. I dined at the Old Club the first day, the 
 members of which ajDpear to live together after the 
 manner of brothers, and just as sportsmen ought to live ; 
 no midnight revelling to shake the nerves. In fact, I am 
 told a pint of wine is the usual limit with many of the 
 best men at Melton. 
 
 " To-day I went to church, a beautiful specimen of the 
 florid Gothic, with very pretty chimes, and was amused 
 as well as edified bv the rector. Dr. Ford, When I say, 
 ' amused,' I must tell you why. He would not suffer the 
 clerk to murder the second and fourth verses of the psalm 
 of the day, but read them himself, evidently partaking 
 of the poetical inspiration of the author of them. It is 
 really abominable to hear our clerk at Amstead murder 
 and miscall this fine language, — ' the howl in the dessart,' 
 for example. But enough of this. After church I 
 walked through several stables in the town, and saw, as 
 you may suppose, many fine horses. To carry my weight, 
 Mr. Forester's stud pleased me most. They were chiefly 
 brown geldings, that colour being prevalent in Shropshire 
 (where he generally purchases his hunters), with those 
 got by the Hundred House Snap, his favourite blood. 
 Cholmondeley's horses were very perfect, and just suited 
 to his weight. By the way, I remember a Christchurch 
 man, out of his county, saying that whilst he was staying 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 195 
 
 at liis seat in Cheshire, thirteen hunters took their 
 departure for Melton ; and on his observing that ' it must 
 be a difficult matter to find such a lot : '— ' Not at all,' 
 replied Cholmondeley, 'the difficulty is in finding the 
 money to pay for them.' 
 
 " Furtlier particulars of what I saw to-day must remain 
 till we meet. I shall only add that, although the general 
 condition of the hunters here is very good, it does not 
 equal that of Lord Sefton's stud ; and I have told 
 Pritchard — who of course growled on hearing it — that no 
 hunter of mine should ever again have a summer's run at 
 grass. — Believe me, dear Inkleton, truly yours, 
 
 ''Francis Raby. 
 
 "P.S. — I hope your stable continues right, and that 
 you will come here soon. Depend upon it, it is the place 
 for sport. In fact, one of the flyers here says — not that I 
 agree with him — ' riding to cover over this country is 
 better than riding to hounds over most others.' F. R." 
 
 The next appearance of our young sportsman with 
 hounds, was with those of the Duke of Rutland at one of 
 their most favourite fixtures, and where, as is usual in 
 such cases, most of the leading characters of the three 
 adjoining hunts met together. The scene, like that at 
 Cream Lodge, was one of the most cheering and soul- 
 stirring description to a person of his age and experience, 
 and tended to enhance greatly his opinion of Melton as 
 a domicile for a hunting man. Then there was a character 
 at the head of his Grace's hunting establishment who was 
 an object of much interest, and especially so with young 
 sportsmen, inasmuch as he was, at that period, what may 
 be called the only one in his calling with anything like 
 equal pretensions ; namely, to unite the gentleman with 
 the huntsman, combining the duties of the servant withal. 
 This was the far-famed Shaw, who then hunted the Duke 
 of Rutland's hounds, and who, for what may be called 
 " style" in every department and movement of his calling, 
 was the most celebrated huntsman of the day. All this, 
 indeed, was visible to Frank Raby previously to the 
 hounds throwing off ; for, instead of seeing him, where he 
 looked for him, in the middle of his pack, as they stood 
 under the shelter of a fence, awaiting the appointed hour, 
 he observed him coming along on his cover-hack, at the 
 
196 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 rate of fifteen miles in the hour, and in company with 
 two distinguished sportsmen, then on a visit to the Duke, 
 and who were, do doubt, enjoying, as well as profiting by, 
 the sage and pertinent remarks of a man so eminent in 
 his way, which, although delivered with the authority of 
 a master, were given with the respect expected from a 
 servant. Nor was this all : he was amused with his 
 proceedings on his arrival. After the usual exchange of 
 greetings between himself and his hounds, which no man 
 who has a soul, or is capable of being pleased M'ith such 
 simple exhibitions of nature, can witness without pleasure, 
 there was something quite aristocratic in the manner in 
 which he prepared himself for entering upon his office, 
 and commencing the operations of tlie day. The mud- 
 boots being taken off, and the dust, should there have 
 been any, wiped off his neat and well-polished boots, a 
 white cambric handkerchief was generally taken from his 
 pocket by Shaw, with which, after gently raising his cap 
 from his head, he as gently wiped his brow, returning it 
 to whence it came. Then there was something remark- 
 able too — something pleasing to the ear, in the tone of 
 Shaw's voice, and especially so when uttering the words — 
 " your Grace" which, of course, were invariably appended 
 to his answers to his noble master. Again, there was an 
 air about him even in mounting his hunter, and trotting 
 awa}^ with the hounds towards the cover, at the signal 
 given to him by the Duke, which forcibly struck Frank 
 Eaby as something out of the common way. The signal 
 was silently but gracefully acknowledged by a gentle 
 raising of the cap, and he may be said to have thro^\Ti his 
 hounds into cover with much grace. As for his horse- 
 manship, it was elegant, and so thought our hero. 
 
 But our hero's opinion of the hounds shall appear in a 
 letter he wrote to his friend Lord Dauntley, after hunting 
 with Lord Lonsdale's hounds on the following day, and 
 once more with Lord Sefton's. 
 
 "Melton, Feb. 6, 1802. 
 " Dear Dauntley, — As we shall meet so"^ soon, I 
 shall only now tell you that I have been out with the 
 three packs, and am delighted with all I have seen. I 
 could not have believed, had I not witnessed it, that any 
 part of England could be so favourable, both for hounds 
 and those who ride to them, as that which I have lately 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 197 
 
 travelled over. And at what a pace it is travelled over ! 
 But you know all this better than I can tell you. I can 
 only say, it is too fast for me, at least, for my horses. I 
 stopped Gentleman, the first day with the Quorn, in little 
 more than twenty minutes ; Achilles is too slow ; ditto 
 Pantaloon ; ^ in fact, the General, and Bowman ^ — a right 
 good one — are the only two at all lit for this country. My 
 stable will soon be stumped up, and I must either return 
 to the provincials, or purchase others. It is useless to be 
 here with only six horses, and four of those not up to the 
 mark. I overheard one of the fellows yesterday say — ' I 
 think that young Eaby would ride if he had the cattle, 
 but the present lot won't do. They tell me he'll be well 
 breeched one of these days, so it's his own fault if he don't 
 mend his stable.' I think so, too, Dauntley ; and I must 
 go to Moses before next hunting season — that is to say, 
 if Mr. Darkin don't win the Oaks. Trueman gives me 
 hopes in his last letter ; he says ^ Rouge is one of the best 
 goers of a young one he ever saw.' As he is so good a 
 judge, I think something of this. He says nothing of 
 Euphrosyne ; but if one of them can do the trick it's 
 enough. 
 
 " Now for my opinion of what I have seen. I like the 
 Melton fellows much — ' no nonsense about them,' as Jack 
 Bailey says ; and they are very civil — indeed, kind to 
 me ! Of the hounds I should say this : — The Quorn and 
 Lord Lonsdale's are the most business-like, but the 
 Duke's are, perhaps, the handsomest to the eye. They 
 certainly show much blood, as we say of horses. The 
 others are coarser in some of their points ; for example, 
 a hound in the Quorn called Guzman, which Kaven told 
 me they breed much from, is coarse in his fore-quarters, 
 with what old Dick calls 'a chitterling shirt about his 
 neck.' I believe the term is, ' a little throating.' But 
 they all have good legs, and feet, and loins, at least as far 
 as I am a judge. The Duke's, with a good scent, are 
 called the fastest ; indeed, one day last week they ran 
 clean away from the horses, in a burst of twelve minutes 
 — only one thorough-bred one being able to live with 
 them. Shaw confessed he was beat half a mile in four, 
 and over the finest part of the country for a splitter. 
 
 1 The horse purchased at Tattersall's, together with Gentleman. 
 
 2 The horse purchased at the recommendation of Sir John 
 Inkleton, and already spoken of. 
 
198 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 Lord Lonsdale's are capital hunters, and, I believe, seldom 
 lose a fox, unless by accident, when the scent serves. 
 The countrv I met them in looked very much like fox- 
 hunting, the fixture was Tilton Wood. Yesterday, I 
 met the Quorn again ; it was the pack hunted by Stephen 
 Goodall, a most intelligent-looking fellow, but a cruel 
 weight for a horse. He is said to be very clever, and if 
 up with his hounds in time, generally puts them right, 
 when at fault. We had a capital run, and I am happy 
 to say I was capitally carried by Bowman. I suppose I 
 could put him into my pocket at a large sum, if I was so 
 disposed, as Pritchard tells me no less than three of his 
 brothers of the stable have asked him whether he was for 
 sale ? There was some desperate riding yesterday ; and I 
 understand the part of the Stanton Brook which Forester 
 leaped on a horse called Bernado, measured thirty-two 
 feet — a great leap for a horse, with better than fourteen 
 stone on his back. 
 
 " Now, then, adieu till we meet. If you chance to see 
 the fillies, let me have your opinion of their condition, 
 &c. ; and, should you hear of a good well-bred hunter for 
 sale, think of me. I will go as far as 300 guineas, — 
 Dear Dauntley, ever yours, 
 
 " Francis Eaby. 
 
 '•The Lord Dauntley, &c. &c. 
 
 " P.S. — I had nearly forgotten to tell you, that I was 
 much pleased with the appearance of the celebrated Mr. 
 Brummell in the field. He is not a sportsman, I believe, 
 nor much of a rider ; but he is one of the neatest and best 
 dressed men I ever saw. His horses, also, are complete 
 both in shape and condition, and everything about him — 
 the tout ensemble, I think they call it on the other side of 
 the Channel — may be said to be comj)lete." 
 
 The ides of March were not more dreaded by the great 
 Csesar himself, than they are by a fox-hunter in the 
 ploughed countries, as half a dozen " fine March days," as 
 the farmers say of them, put a stop to anything like sport 
 with hounds. This being the case in that district in 
 which Sir John Inkleton hunted, he most liberally made 
 an offer of his four capital hunters to his young friend, 
 Frank Baby, and they arrived at Melton in tip-top con- 
 dition, just one month previous to the conclusion of the 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 199 
 
 season. Here, then, was the character of our hero at once 
 brought forth, and stamped. In some of their best runs — 
 which are not denied to honnds in tlie grass countries, 
 even to the middle of April — he particularly distinguished 
 himself ; and it was the general opinion of the best judges 
 amongst the Meltonians and the members of the other 
 Hunts, that Frank Eaby, as he was now everywhere 
 called, would one day or another rank in the foremost 
 class, not only of horsemen, but of sportsmen — verifying 
 the prophetic verdict of Mr. Forester, that he was " a very 
 promising young one." 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 A sample of a young sportsman's life in London — A near thing for 
 the Oaks at Epsom, and a close shave for the Oaks at Amstead. 
 
 THE season concluded, our hero took his departure 
 from Melton, but not without having hired most 
 convenient apartments for the forthcoming one, together 
 with a ten-stalled stable for his horses, being resolved on 
 adding four others to his number, as well as replacing 
 those who could not do the trick. In fact, he was now 
 spoiled for riding anything second-rate, and Bowman and 
 the General were the only two that he intended to keep 
 for the ensuing year. 
 
 Between his arrival at Amstead, and " the Derby," a 
 period of as much note in the almanack of a sportsman as 
 ^Miitsuntide or Easter in that of others, nothing occurred 
 to our hero sufficiently worthy of record, unless it be the 
 receipt of the two following letters at about the end of 
 the first fortnight : — 
 
 "Gkosvenoe Square, Sunday, April 19. 
 " Dear Raby, — Your account of your doings at 
 Melton delighted me, but not so much as that I have 
 heard from others of your performance over the country, 
 and the good impression you left behind you on the 
 people. They all say 'you will do,' and enough is 
 expressed in those few words. I saw your fillies a few 
 days back, and I really think you have a chance. True- 
 man says he has tried them high (such are his words), and 
 
200 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 that Rouge is the second best two-year-old he ever had 
 in his stable. I am just come from Tattersall's, and find 
 they are both in the betting ; Rouge at only 12 to 1 — 
 Euphrosyne at 25. You should employ some one to lay 
 out a hundred for you, chiefly on Rouge, from what 
 Trueman says. He has taken the odds himself to £50. 
 Make use of me, if you like, as I mean to lay out some 
 money on Rouge — a hundred at least — to-morrow. As 
 they tell me the may-fly is gone, I suppose we shall soon 
 meet in the little village. I shall therefore only add that 
 I remain, — Dear Frank, truly yours, 
 
 " Dauntley. 
 "F. Raby, Esq." 
 
 " Honoured Sir, — I writes to tell you how your fillies 
 is, as it is my duty so to do. I thinks we shall be nigh 
 hand w^ith Rouge, if we doesn't win the Oaks. I have 
 tried her with a good four-year-old at eight pounds, and 
 they ran head to head. Euphrosyne is well, and has good 
 speed, but I doubt she will not stay.^ I have taken the 
 odds (12 to 1) to £50 about Rouge,' and I would advise 
 you to do the same, but don't meddle with the other yet. 
 The odds will be higher against her after a bit, when 
 people sees she hasn't many friends. — Sir, your obedient 
 servant, 
 
 " W. Trueman. 
 
 "To Feancis Raby, Esq." 
 
 The consequence of these letters was, one from our hero 
 to his friend Dauntley, requesting him to take the odds to 
 a hundred pounds on Rouge,^but, in the classical language 
 of Mr. Trueman, not to meddle with Euphrosyne, and the 
 commission was executed, on the following Monday, by 
 his Lordship. 
 
 A fortnight before the Derby our hero arrived in 
 London, and, as usual, took up his residence with his 
 uncle, whose kindness to\\'ards him was unabated. He 
 could not, however, help remarking that, although, from 
 the length of time since he had last seen him, it was, to a 
 certain extent, to be looked for, there was a wide differ- 
 ence in the character and deportment of his favourite 
 nephew, and in one or two respects not exactly to be 
 
 1 Anglice—is a jade and will die away in a struggle at the last. 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 201 
 
 accounted for. In the first place, he was rather short in 
 his answers ; in other words, if he did not appear to hold 
 his uncle cheaply, he appeared evidently to attach but 
 little weight to his general remarks and opinions. The 
 fact was, his uncle had never been at Melton. In the 
 next, he observed a thoughtfulness about him that was 
 not, he was certain, natural, and he now and then appeared 
 to be almost absorbed in thought. In fact, Mr. Beaumont 
 Raby began to doubt whether his favourite nephew was 
 happy, and even put the question to him, to endeavour 
 to satisfy his mind on the subject. The answer was, of 
 course, in the affirmative. 
 
 That Frank Raby was, at this time, quite happy, no 
 one will readily believe, and the cause of his not being 
 so will as readily present itself. He had embarked in a 
 speculation, the result of which was not only in itself 
 uncertain, but it was also apparent to him that he had 
 embarked in it rashly, and without the means of carrying 
 it through with any satisfaction to himself. He had 
 already put himself under an obligation to a friend, and 
 that a newly-acquired one, for the money his fillies had 
 cost, and he was further involved with him in the odds 
 he had taken for him at Tattersall's. In short, for the 
 first time in his life, he found himself in trouble, in 
 consequence of exceeding his means. But this was not 
 the utmost extent of it. He had subjected himself, also 
 for the first time, to a severe self-reproach for acting an 
 underhand part in the possession of his racing fillies — in 
 fact, for having done what he feared to be known to 
 all the world, which he felt was quite repugnant to his 
 naturally ingenuous disposition. 
 
 Within a week of the meeting, matters stood thus : 
 Rouge was third favourite for the Oaks, the odds being 
 only 8 to 1 against her, whereas, with respect to Euj^hro- 
 syne, they remained at 25. Nevertheless, in consequence 
 of her being in the same stable with Rouge, said to be 
 such a flyer, added to her being known to be a superior 
 goer, a good deal of money had been laid out upon her at 
 the above-named quotation, but not by the principal 
 bettors, further than to make up their books. As to her 
 owner, although he had taken the odds — at least his noble 
 friend had done so for him — to another hundred pounds, 
 on the Monday before the race, when they were only 12 
 to 1, he had not one shilling on Euphrosyne nor had 
 
202 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 any of his friends who were in the secret, and they only 
 consisted of three ; namely, Lord Dauntley, Hargrave, and 
 Goodall, his old Christchurch chums, who had laid out 
 some money on Rouge. 
 
 On the morning of the race, an alteration had taken, 
 place in the betting, in consequence of something having 
 transpired, and the odds stood thus : 12 to 1 against 
 Rouge, and 10 to 1 against Euphrosyne, or 6 to 1 against Mr. 
 Darkin's lot. Thus had Rouge gone down four points, 
 whilst Euphrosyne got up fifteen in the betting. 
 
 But one thing surprised Frank Raby and his friends 
 more than the alteration in the betting ; and this was the 
 fact of the worst jockey being put upon Rouge, and the 
 best on the other filly, which was thus accouiited for by 
 Mr. Trueman : — 
 
 "We must not throw away a chance, sir," said he to 
 our hero, " with Euj^hrosyne, although hers is a poor one ; 
 she is a difficult mare to ride, whereas Rouge wants no 
 riding at all, beyond keeping her straight and holding 
 her well together. She's as honest, as, I fear, the other is 
 a rogue." 
 
 All this, however, was very satisfactorily explained 
 about an hour before the race, and in the following 
 manner : — 
 
 Our hero was accosted on the course by a person 
 of rather mean appearance, but having a good deal the 
 look and character of what is called a " leg," in the real 
 acceptation of that term. 
 
 " Pray, sir," said he, " are you not Mr. Raby ? " 
 
 " I am," he replied. 
 
 " And the owner of two fillies in this race ? " 
 
 Our hero paused, but his silence M'as thus interrupted 
 by the "leg":— 
 
 ' " I know all about them, sir," resumed he ; " they are 
 both your fillies, and you have been robhed ! I saw them 
 tried, and I have no doubt but that Euphrosyne is five 
 pounds a better mare than Rouge. As for myself, I 
 stand to win upon her, and have laid long odds against 
 the other, which, in my opinion, is as big a jade as ever 
 started in a race." 
 
 " And pray who are you ? " asked our hero. 
 
 " No matter who I am, sir," was the reply ; "you'll find 
 I have told you the truth." 
 
 " Here is a pretty business," said Raby, as he galloped 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 203 
 
 up to Goodall, whom he chanced to espy on the course ; 
 " for God's sake, where is Dauntley ? " 
 
 " What do you want with him in such a hurry ? " asked 
 Goodall. 
 
 " To hedge our money before the ring breaks up," was 
 the reply ; " I have reason to believe we are all done about 
 Rouge, who has not a chance to win, and the other filly 
 has." 
 
 The upshot, however, was this : — Lord Dauntley could 
 not be found ; neither our hero nor Goodall had any 
 credit in the ring, which, in an hour from that time, was 
 broken up ; and to the post went the fillies. The race 
 was one of the quickest ever seen over that course. 
 Euphrosyne answering every stroke of the whip and every 
 dig of the spur — struggling, in short, to the very last 
 stride — was only beaten by a head, whereas the favourite 
 was at the extremity of the tail, or, as his owner said 
 of Eclipse's competitors, " noichere." And the summing 
 up of the case was this: — Mr. Trueman won J6300 by 
 backing Rouge to lose, the money being laid out for him 
 by a friend ; and if Ephrosyne had won the race, he 
 would have pocketed £3000 on the event — in fact, to 
 use his own words, let drop when very drunk, he should 
 from that hour have been a gentleman. But it now matters- 
 little : Mr. Trueman went to his account without having 
 been created a gentleman, by breaking his neck down 
 stairs, when in a state of beastly intoxication ; and our 
 hero purchased a lesson at no very great cost. 
 
 Now, independently of the lose of the stakes, and the 
 honour of being a winner of the Oaks — an honour which, 
 nevertheless, must in this case have lain dormant for 
 a time — there was one very provoking circumstance to 
 Frank Raby, in this foul transaction. He could have 
 sold Rouge for 1000 guineas, on the strength of her 
 place in the betting, whereas she was now worth little more 
 than as many half-crowns — in fact, she was soon after- 
 wards sold at about that figure. Euphrosyne, however, 
 was valuable, and might have been sold for a very 
 considerable sum. To get rid of the thing altogether, 
 however, and to prevent the necessity of his applying to a 
 friend to enable him to pay the bets Lord Dauntley had 
 made for him at Tattersall's, and to discharge Mr. True- 
 man's bill, he accepted an offer made to him, through 
 Trueman, of 800 guineas for her, which, with no great 
 
204 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 addition from his own present resources, enabled him to 
 discharge all obligations — that to his friend Dauntley, for 
 the original purchase of the fillies, amongst the number. 
 And there was one redeeming quality in Mr. Trueman, 
 the trainer : he left the world without betraying the 
 secret as to whom these fillies belonged ; and as our hero 
 had not made any admission to the " leg," who made the 
 disclosure of the villainy, it never came to light until he 
 revealed it himself, at a period when it mattered nothing 
 if all the world knew it. 
 
 Horace says, " Life is short, and we should gather its 
 roses while Fate leaves them in our power ; " and he also 
 says (mistakenly, I think), that "the charm of Fame 
 consists in being pointed at, and having it said. This is he ! " 
 Kow, I do not think that our hero was under the ban of 
 the last-named infirmity ; but that he was bent upon 
 gathering the roses before the bloom began to fade, his 
 late proceedings have pretty clearly demonstrated. As 
 his friend Dauntley and himself, then, were taking a ride 
 together in the park, on the Thursday after the Epsom 
 meeting, the following conversation took place : — 
 
 "I may consider myself very fortunate," said Frank 
 Raby, " in getting out of my racing speculation so well as 
 I have done ; and shall be very cautious how I enter into 
 another. But I have a serious undertaking on my hands, 
 which must be accomplished in the course of the summer." 
 
 " What is that 1 " said Lord Dauntley. 
 
 " I must lay out upwards of £1000 in horseflesh, and I 
 am at present uncertain whence that sum will be forth- 
 coming." 
 
 " My good fellow," said his Lordship, " you need be so 
 no longer. I have that sum at your service any day you 
 may call upon me for it. Nothing is more grateful to me 
 than the act of serving a friend ; indeed, I consider that 
 we are sent here, among other wise purposes, to serve each 
 other when it lies in our power." 
 
 " A thousand thanks, my dear Dauntley," replied Eaby ; 
 " but I must not trespass further on the kindness of my 
 friends, so long as I have other sources to fly to for relief. 
 Goodall tells me he can recommend me to a respectable 
 man in the city, who will advance me a couple of thousand 
 pounds on a post-obit security, and on fair terms. I am 
 to be introduced to him to-morrow." 
 
 "Needs must, when the devil drives," resumed Lord 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 205 
 
 Dauntley ; " but, as your father cannot be fifty, you will 
 have to pay a heavy bonus." 
 
 "Yes, but there is my uncle, also," replied our hero. 
 " Goodall says the contingency may be made to embrace 
 my expectations from him." 
 
 " I doubt it," said his Lordship. " However, if you do 
 not succeed in the city, you know where to come ; at all 
 events, do not conclude the bargain without informing me 
 of the nature of it." 
 
 At the appointed hour Goodall met our hero at Limmer's, 
 and getting into a dirty hackney coach, proceeded to the 
 city on an equally dirty business, and in due time arrived 
 at the residence of Mr. Sharpe, a member of the honour- 
 able profession of money - scriveners. On their names 
 being announced to him, they were shown into the dining- 
 room, where Mr. Sharpe almost immediately made his 
 appearance, that part of his premises, as he himself said, 
 being better fitted than the "ofiice" for gentlemen who 
 came to him " on matters of a delicate nature." He was 
 a middle-aged man, respectable in his appearance, possess- 
 ing a quick eye, and altogether a very intelligent counten- 
 ance. We will once more have recourse to the dialogical 
 form, in describing this interview. 
 
 " Good morning to ye, gentlemen," said Mr. Sharpe (on 
 making his appearance) : " Mr. Goodall, I believe." 
 
 " The same, sir," replied Goodall. 
 
 " Then I presume," continued Mr. Sharpe, " this gentle- 
 man (bowing to our hero) is Mr. Raby. 1 beg, gentlemen, 
 you will be seated." 
 
 " My friend Mr. Eaby, sir," said Goodall, " is in want 
 of some temporary assistance, and having been recom- 
 mended to you by my friend Mr. Thornton, I have reason 
 to believe you will render it to him upon fair and honour- 
 able terms." 
 
 " Sir," said Mr. Sharpe, smirking a bow, " you pay me 
 a compliment ; but this I may say of myself, that, from 
 my very extensive pecuniary connections in this great 
 town, I have the means of rendering gentlemen accom- 
 modation to an extent not within the reach of — I think I 
 may say — any other man. But pray, sir, let me ask you, 
 is your friend a son of Mr. Raby, of Amstead Abbey ? " 
 
 " He is," replied Goodall. 
 
 "Then," resumed Mr. Sharpe, "there will be no diffi- 
 culty in this case. I foreclosed a mortgage last year, on a 
 
2o6 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 property adjoining the Amstead estate, and, having been 
 some weeks in the neighbourhood, know all about Mr. 
 Raby. I think, sir," continued he, addressing himself to 
 our hero, " you are now the only son." 
 
 " I am," replied Frank ; and, as he spoke, a deep flush 
 came over his face, at the same time that he stifled a sigh, 
 and avoided catching the eye of his friend Goodall. 
 
 "Very well, sir ; now what is the sum you are in want 
 of?" 
 
 " Two thousand pounds." 
 
 " Oh, sir," quoth Mr. Sharpe, " 'tis hardly worth while 
 going to parchment for such a sum as that ; suppose we 
 say five ? " 
 
 "No," replied Frank Raby; "I only want £2000 at 
 present." 
 
 " And the security 1 " 
 
 " A post-obit." 
 
 Mr. Sharpe first squeezed together his lips, hard enough 
 to have cracked a hazel-nut, and then, pouting them out 
 on a level with the end of his nose, looked exceedingly 
 wise — " Post-obit ! Difficult to get money on post-obit — 
 that is to sav, on fair and easy terms ; would not annuity 
 be better?"" 
 
 " No," returned Frank, " annuity won't do ; I have only 
 an allowance from my father." 
 
 " Well, sir, then we'll say no more on that subject. You 
 propose a bonus on the death of your father ? " 
 
 " Yes, or my uncle." 
 
 " Oh ! you have an uncle ? " 
 
 " I have ; and as he has never been married, and is 
 nearly as old as my father, I have reason to believe I shall 
 inherit his property." 
 
 "Ah, sir," said Mr. Sharpe, with a sigh, " two or three 
 young gentlemen I have had to deal with, have helieved 
 the same thing of their uncles, but found their mistake 
 when they died. Old uncles are ticklish fellows to deal 
 with ; if you please, we will confine ourselves to your 
 father, whose estates I know are entailed on you. Have 
 you ever borrowed money before ? " 
 
 " Never ; unless it was a hundred or so, from a friend, 
 which I repaid." 
 
 " Good, sir ; and what do you expect to be the bonus 
 upon the sum you propose to raise ? " 
 
 " Let us hear what yoic have to say, Mr. Sharpe." 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 207 
 
 " Why, let me see," said Mr. Sharpe (placing his hand 
 over his eyes, and resting his elbow on the table) : — " your 
 father, sir, you say, is fifty-two years old ; he may live 
 another fifty-two years. Then (removing his hand from 
 his eyes, and looking at our hero) your father, sir, is, I 
 understand, a very regular liver, entering but little into 
 the dissipation of this town ; on the contrary, I believe he 
 almost altogether lives in the country, devoting himself to 
 hunting, agriculture, and such-like health-giving pursuits. 
 Then, what a fine, noble-looking man he is ! I think, Mr. 
 Kaby, he'll hold for a long tug." 
 
 " I hope he mav," replied Frank ; " but tell me at once 
 what you expect for £2000 ? " 
 
 " Certainly not less than £5000, all circumstances con- 
 sidered." 
 
 " Then be it so ; when can I have the money 1 " 
 
 " In a fortnight from this day ; you shall hear from me 
 within that time, to appoint the day and hour in which 
 the money will be forthcoming. All, then, that I have to 
 add is, a request that Mr. Thornton may be an attesting 
 witness to the bond, or, indeed, any other gentleman w^ho 
 is known to both parties, merely to identify the person of 
 Mr. Raby, who is, of course, a stranger to me." 
 
 "Why, to be sure, we are both strangers to you, Mr. 
 Sharpe," said Goodall ; " but there can be no objection to 
 call upon my friend Thornton, on whom I can depend for 
 not talking about this affair, which, of course, Mr. Raby 
 wishes to be kept a secret." 
 
 "Oh, sir," said Mr. Sharpe, with a small smile, " M?e 
 never talk of these matters ; we should be cutting our own 
 throats." And so exeunt omnes. 
 
 " Well, Raby," said Lord Dauntley to our hero, the first 
 time they met after this visit to Mr. Sharpe, " how did 
 you get on with the money-lender ? What are you to give 
 for your £2000 ? " 
 
 " What do you think ? " was the reply. 
 
 " I am no judge of such things," answered his Lordship, 
 "as my father died when I was two years old. All I 
 know is, you must mind what you are at ; for a friend of 
 mine was nicely humbugged by one of these advertising 
 money-lenders. He was absolutely obliged to take tiuelve 
 dozen gross of cotton stockings, and a lot of vulgar plate, 
 which he did not want, for more than half the sum 
 promised him." 
 
2o8 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 "There is no fear of my being served in that way," 
 replied Raby ; " Mr. Sharpe seems to be a respectable 
 man ; has a devilish good house ; and keep lots of clerks. 
 I am to give £5000 for £2000 cash down." 
 
 "Well," resumed his noble friend, "all things con- 
 sidered, for your father is a young and very hale man, I 
 do not think that is much out of the way, for there is no 
 small risk in post-obit bonds. You know the law takes 
 no cognisance of the bo7ius — that is, the lender can only 
 recover the principal and legal interest for the same." 
 
 " Indeed ! " exclaimed our hero, somewhat surprised 
 at the assertion. " Still, no man, wiih the feelings of a 
 gentleman, would refuse to pay the bonus." 
 
 " Certainly not," replied Lord Dauntley, " if he were 
 fairly dealt with in the transaction, and no further 
 advantage taken than that to which he himself had been 
 a party." 
 
 At the end of a fortnight from the visit of our hero, 
 with Goodall, to the city, he received the following note 
 from Mr. Sharpe : — 
 
 "Mr. Sharpe presents his respectful compliments to 
 Mr. Raby, and l)egs to inform him that everything is 
 arranged relating to the post-obit transaction ; and will 
 thank Mr. Raby to give him the meeting on Thursday 
 next, at two o'clock precisely, at No. 13 Edward Street, 
 Portman Square, where the gentleman who makes the 
 advance resides." 
 
 As may be imagined, our hero was true to his time, and 
 having been introduced to Mr. Thornton, who acceded to 
 Mr. Sharpe's request, made his appearance in Edward 
 Street, just as the clock struck two, expecting to find 
 the lawyer, if not Mr. Thornton, there before him. 
 
 It happened, however, that he was the first ; and on 
 inquiring whether Mr. Longbottom was at home, was 
 answered by a smart livery-servant in the affirmative, 
 and to whom he presented his card. 
 
 "Walk this way, if you please, sir," said John; and 
 he conducted him to the front drawing-room, which was 
 not only elegantly furnished, but had its walls absolutely 
 covered with large and apparently well -executed paintings. 
 
 " This man must be a man of fortune," said our hero 
 to himself, as he threw his eyes round the room ; " I think 
 I am in good hands." 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 209 
 
 In a very few minutes the door of the room was opened, 
 and a tall, thin, unhealthy-looking person in black, with 
 a well-powdered head, walked in, with our hero's card 
 in his hand, and was, of course, very polite to his guest. 
 
 "You are punctual, Mr. Raby," said he; "I like to 
 have to do with persons who are punctual." 
 
 " But where is Mr. Sharpe 1 " inquired Frank. 
 
 "Why I think he will soon be here, accompanied by 
 a gentleman whose name and object you have been ac- 
 quainted with," resumed Mr. Longbottom. " But you know, 
 sir, lawyers like Mr. Sharpe, in a large way, cannot always 
 command their ow^n time. Pray, Mr. Raby, be seated." 
 
 " Thank ye," replied Frank Raby ; " but I wish to 
 have another look at your pictures. I admire this, much," 
 pointing to an historical piece of very large dimensions. 
 
 " That is a chef d'ceuvre" said his' host ; " I gave 3000 
 guineas for that picture, in Rome." 
 
 " And this," resumed our hero. 
 
 " A Correggio," said Longbottom. 
 
 " And this, how beautiful ! " 
 
 " You show your taste, Mr. Raby ; that picture is yours." 
 
 " Mine ! ! ! " 
 
 "Yes, yours; that is to say, merely nominally so. 
 General Jervis, now at the Bedford Hotel, in Covent 
 Garden, is to give you 700 guineas ; and a gentleman of 
 the name of Crow will also give you 300 for that exquisite 
 * Holy Family,' by Le Brun, which will just make up 
 1000 guineas of the money." 
 
 On hearing this our hero smelt a rat ; and, taking out 
 his watch, thus addressed Mr. Longbottom : — 
 
 "By the way, Mr. Longbottom, I want to leave my 
 card on a friend who lives in the square, and by the 
 time I return, no doubt Mr. Sharpe and Mr. Thornton 
 will be here. So good morning, for the present." 
 
 The bell was rung ; the door opened by the foot- 
 man ; and exit Frank Raby, with these words in his 
 mouth : — 
 
 " If old Sharpe's head never aches till I meet him at 
 this fellow's house, he will have a good time of it." 
 
 But what was to be done with Mr. Thornton, whom 
 our hero could not think of thus leaving in the lurch ? 
 Luckily for both parties, he saw him at the other end 
 of the street, and told him what had passed about the 
 pictures. 
 
2IO THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 " They attempted to do me in the same way," said Mr. 
 Thornton, "and, as it was, I was obliged to take £300 
 worth of plate which I did not want ; but they are un- 
 reasonable in your case." 
 
 " Well," said Frank Eaby, " I am very sorry you have 
 been brought here on a fool's errand, but I will instantly 
 write a note to Sharj)e, and tell him to let matters rest 
 till he hears from me again ; and I will send it to him 
 at Longbottom's." Mr. Thornton approved of his discre- 
 tion, and here the matter ended for the present. 
 
 The next day Frank Raby called on Lord Dauntle}-, to 
 inform him of the result of his visit to Edward Street, 
 and at the conclusion of his story was thus addressed by 
 his truly noble friend : — 
 
 "My dear Eaby, have nothing more to do in this 
 business. As I told you before, I can furnish you with 
 the £2000 without the least inconvenience, and require 
 no other security than a common bond. I would advise 
 you to get Mr. Thornton to make your peace with Mr. 
 Sharpe, by paying him his costs in preparing the bond, 
 which cannot be much, as the value of stamps to un- 
 executed deeds is not enforced. As to Mr. Longbottom, 
 with his chef cVteuvre, leave him to his fate ; he will, how- 
 ever, be aware that you are too long-headed for him. "Who 
 Mr. Crow is, I know not ; but General Jervis I do happen 
 to know, and am quite sure that, so far from his being 
 at the Bedford Hotel, in this town, and able to give 700 
 guineas for a picture, he is at this moment playing at 
 hide-and-seek with the bailiffs, and cannot command 700 
 shillings." 
 
 "My dear Dauntley," replied our hero, "you are too 
 kind ; if compelled to do so, I will accept your offer, but 
 I still have one more move. There is a rich old miller 
 on the Amstead estate, who, I have reason to believe, 
 will lend me this money, on a common bond, with an 
 insurance on my life, which I should be willing to make, 
 by way of rendering the security 'undeniable,' as the 
 lawyers say. I will write to him this evening." — And 
 so he did, to the following purport : — 
 
 "Limmer's Hotel, Bond Street, June Uh, 1804. 
 "Mr. Grimes, — I want to borrow £2000 on my bond, 
 for which I will pay the legal interest, and make an 
 insurance on my life, if you think it necessary, for the 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 211 
 
 principal. If you can so far oblige me, do it quickly, as 
 I want to purchase some hunters against next season. At 
 all events, say nothing about this application to any one 
 — of all persons in the world, not to Rohson. I can have 
 the bond prepared here, which will be better than em- 
 ploying a country attorney. — In haste, yours, &c., 
 
 "Francis Eaby. 
 "To Mr. Grimes." 
 
 An answer to this effect was returned by the first post : — 
 
 " AsHTON Mills, June 7th, 1804. 
 " Hon. Sir, — I am sorry to hear you want such a large 
 sum as £2000. Sure you been't agoing to lay it out 
 all in horses, for you have the finest in the country now, 
 by odds. Howsomever, you shall have the money by 
 this day month, on the conditions you propose ; and on 
 receiving the papers, it shall be paid through my sales- 
 man in London, so that nobody will know nothing about 
 it. I am glad to oblige you, sir, and don't doubt but 
 you'll be kind to the lads when I am gone. No more at 
 present from, hon. sir, — Your dutiful servant, 
 
 "John Grimes. 
 
 " P.S. — As I loves you, Mr. Francis, as the apple of 
 my eye, don't be offended at my saying I hopes you 
 won't get into no mischief among the gambling gentle- 
 men in London. They tells me they are too sharj) for 
 us country people." 
 
 How is it, it may be asked, that we have heard nothing 
 of Sir John Inkleton, the friend and jDatron of our hero, 
 in the late memorable transactions ? How is it, indeed, 
 that he was not allowed to be privy to them ? The 
 answer is — it was too near home for the grand secret of 
 the racing fillies, as also the transactions with Mr. Sharpe, 
 to be divulged in that quarter. Sir John, in spite of 
 now and then a hint from Lady Charlotte, that he had 
 "spoiled Francis for a younger brother," was a great 
 favourite at the Abbey, and, although considerably his 
 junior, much in the confidence of Mr. Raby. Nor is 
 this the extent of the reason why he was kept in the 
 dark. Our hero knew that this outbreak of his, so far 
 from being approved of, would have been discouraged 
 
212 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 by Sir John, who, as has been shown, indulged himself 
 in various pursuits, which were congenial to his taste, 
 and one of them of an expensive nature — I allude, of 
 course, to his propensity to the coach-box — still he was 
 so far prudent as to regulate his disbursements according 
 to his income ; in other words, he had hitherto lived 
 within his means. Nevertheless, had his young friend 
 told him that he wanted a few hundred pounds to pur- 
 chase hunters with, his purse would have been liberally 
 opened to him for the purpose ; forasmuch as having, in 
 some measure, looked upon himself as his preceptor in 
 matters relating to the field, and written letters in praise 
 of him to his friends at Melton, he was anxious he should 
 establish his character in that country as a first-rate 
 horseman, and — in due time — sportsman. The fact is, 
 then, his " friend Frank," as he always called him, and 
 himself, were not of the same party during the Epsom 
 meeting of this year, but for that of Ascot he was booked 
 for the box place, as usual, on the Baronet's well turned- 
 out coach, which went to, and returned from the course 
 after the manner already described during the last year's 
 races. 
 
 Although the intimacy between Mr. Beaumont Eaby 
 and Sir John Inldeton was not on so close a footing as 
 was that between the Squire of Amstead and the Baronet, 
 they were upon very friendly terms, and, as may be 
 supposed, occasionally exchanged visits. During a morn- 
 ing call, when no one besides themselves was present, 
 the following expression of sentiments passed between 
 them : — 
 
 " I think, Inkleton," said Mr. Kaby, with a smile, " I 
 am indebted to you for the disappointment I have ex- 
 perienced in the character and prospects of my hopeful 
 nephew, Frank. You have given him such a taste for 
 hunting and driving, that I fear he is likely to abandon 
 all other pursuits for which his education has fitted, and 
 to which his duty calls, him. Of course you are aware I 
 could not persuade him to go abroad on a tour, which 
 every young Englishman with his expectations ought to 
 do ; and he also refuses to go into Parliament, although I 
 have the offer of a borough for him, without a shilling 
 expense. Now, as I have often told him, I object not to 
 his being a sportsman, and he may drive his own coach, 
 when he has one, if he thinks he can do it better than his 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 213 
 
 coachman ; but I did hope to see him something beyond 
 a sportsman and a coachman — qualified, in fact, which I 
 cannot at present consider him, for the useful and elegant 
 intercourse of common life, in the first place, and service- 
 able to his country, in the next." 
 
 " You do me honour," replied the Baronet, also with a 
 smile on his countenance, " by attributing to me influence 
 over a mind so capable of judging for itself as that of our 
 friend Frank is. His coaching propensities may, perhaps, 
 be laid at my door ; but when you recollect that his 
 father sent him a-hunting before he was twelve years old, 
 I plead not guilty to the other charge. As to his 
 declining going abroad, I confess I agree with him that, 
 without a better knowledge of foreign languages than he 
 possesses, it would be two years of his life wasted, which 
 I certainly considered to have been the case with myself, 
 because my heart was all the time at home, where his, I am 
 sure, would be also. And then, with respect to his being 
 in Parliament, I scarcely knov/ what to say on that 
 subject. To be sure, one reason for declining — that of 
 being occasionally interrupted by a call of the House in 
 the hunting season — is of rather a childish nature. If 
 every gentleman were to refuse to sacrifice a few of the 
 comforts of life to his duty to his country, where should 
 we find statesmen to carry on the business of the country ? 
 Still, it is my opinion there should be a kind of ad valorem 
 consideration here ; a man may, I think, with propriety 
 say this to himself : — ' By going into Parliament I shall 
 make a great personal sacrifice, and the cjuestion is, shall 
 I be, beyond the value of my vote, worth anything when 
 I get there ? Had I not better (supposing him to be 
 aware that he will be of no further value than by his 
 vote) leave the vacant place to be filled by some one who 
 is better qualified than I am for so important a situation ? ' 
 And, friend Beaumont," continued the Baronet, "as you 
 are fond of a classical allusion, I refer you to some- 
 thing like a case in point, in ancient days. Xenophon 
 describes Socrates in conversation with a very young man, 
 whom he knew, and who was, at that time, soliciting for 
 a principal post in the army. To what does he compare 
 him? To a sculptor who undertakes to form a statue, 
 without having learnt the statuary's art ! ' In time of 
 war,' adds the sage, ' no less than the safety of the whole 
 community is intrusted to the general ; and it is in his 
 
214 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 power, either to procure to it many and great advantages, 
 by a prudent discharge of the duties of his station, or 
 involve his country, through misconduct, in the very 
 deepest distress ; and, therefore, that man must be 
 worthy of no small punishment who, whilst he is un- 
 wearied in his endeavours to obtain this honour, takes 
 little or no thought about qualifying himself properly for 
 executing a trust of such vast importance.' " 
 
 " I remember the passage you allude to," replied Mr. 
 Beaumont Kaby, "and also that the lecture of Socrates 
 wrought so powerfully on the young gentleman, that he 
 immediately applied himself to the gaining instruction, 
 which qualified him for the post ; and why should not 
 my nephew have done so also ? The history of our 
 country tells us that youth is no bar to a display of 
 either talent or of action ; and, if you recollect, when 
 Homer calls Agamemnon venerable, it is not in reference 
 to his years, but to his knowledge and acquirements." 
 
 "Well," resumed the Baronet, "all I can say on the 
 subject is, that, amongst my acquaintance (indeed, I 
 might have been in the House myself, but I was aware of 
 my own incapacity to do good), three very good fellows, 
 in their way, had seats in Parliament as soon as they 
 came of age ; but I have yet to learn that either of them 
 did anything beyond the value of their vote. One of 
 them, in fact, disappointed me ; for, being rather a 
 cleverish fellow, I thought he would have made a good 
 speech, and knowing it was his intention to make one, I 
 went into the gallery one night to hear him. But what 
 was the result ? In the first place, having had a dinner 
 party that evening, he was more than half drunk ; and 
 knowing that the motion he was about to speak on would 
 not be called till after midnight, he went first to the 
 Opera. Now, whether it was that, being musical, the 
 fine singing of Catalani had quite bothered his brains, or 
 the eftect of wine, I cannot pretend to say, but this I 
 know, he made sad work of it. He not only hemm'd 
 and ha'd to an extent scarcely ever heard before ; kept 
 turning and twisting about his cocked hat as if, as Addison 
 humorously says, he had been cheapening a beaver, instead 
 of addressing a senate ; but at length got so bewildered 
 among the phenomena of his own theory, that, luckily 
 perhaps for him, his voice was so far drowned between 
 the 'hear, hear' of his friends, and the coughs of his 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 215 
 
 enemies, that not a syllable he uttered could be heard by 
 the House. Being a good plucked one, however, he would 
 not sit down until a friend in his rear pulled him into 
 his seat by his skirts, to the amusement of those who 
 witnessed it. Still," continued Sir John, "there are 
 striking exceptions to this rule — none, perhaps, more so 
 than in your own person, in your maiden speech on the 
 slave trade." 
 
 " I thank you for the compliment," observed Mr. Kaby, 
 "although I see in it an unintentional rebuke. I was 
 certainly successful in my first essay ; but being aware 
 that to have followed up this success, would have imposed 
 upon me labours that a naturally indolent disposition 
 was unwilling to submit to ; and being averse to the 
 attempt at doing anything by halves, I gave up politics 
 at once : and in one respect I am a gainer. I have retained 
 the friendship of men for whom I have the highest regard, 
 but which, being opposed to them in my views, would 
 have been endangered in the heat of political warfare and 
 debate. However, to return to the original object of 
 introducing the conversation respecting Frank. As you 
 have decidedly an influence over him, let me beseech you 
 to use it in impressing on him moderation in his pursuits, 
 and not to forget that, one day or another — and no one 
 knows how soon — he may be called upon to fulfil duties 
 of no ordinary kind. Again, I am rather inclined to 
 believe he has somewhat of an extravagant turn, which 
 may lead him into difficulties unexpectedly ; for I hear 
 he has already added two hunters to his stud — talks of 
 purchasing others — and has taken apartments and stables 
 at Melton for the forthcoming hunting season." 
 
 " Well, Eaby," said the Baronet ; " you have now paid 
 me a compliment, in return for one which is justly your 
 due. With regard to expense, I have always instilled 
 upon Frank's mind — at least, whenever an opportunity 
 offered — the advantage of living within one's income, 
 inasmuch as the exceeding it is the bane of all real 
 comfort ; and, believing example to be much better than 
 precept, I have shown him, in black and white, that I 
 live considerably within mine. As to his stud, I think 
 that, with his allowance of £800 a year from his father, 
 the run of the Abbey for himself and his horses in the 
 summer, and an occasional tip from his kind uncle (here 
 the uncle smiled, which, of course, implied assent), he 
 
2i6 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 may afford to increase it to six, and a hack or two ; and 
 without that number he would cut a very poor figure at 
 Melton, and not a good one with it. And as for his 
 going to Melton, why I " 
 
 " Yes, but, my good Inkleton, he has, I hear, taken stalls 
 for ien," interrupted Mr. Beaumont Raby. 
 
 " Has he ? — still it does not exactly follow that, because 
 a man takes a ten-stalled stable, he is obliged to put a 
 horse into every stall," replied Sir John ; '''nor has he 
 intimated as much. But since you have mentioned the 
 subject to me, Raby, permit me to deliver my opinion on 
 it, and that without reserve : — Let him have his ten hunters, 
 if such he his wish ; and do you help him to buy and keep 
 them. You will not, I am certain, have occasion to repent 
 of the act. If a young man attempt anything, let him 
 try to do it well ; and this, I am sure, is a maxim which 
 you must approve. It equally applies to hunting, as to 
 any other pursuit ; and let me advise you, as you helped 
 to send your nephew to the fountain-head of learning, 
 where the best society was likely to be met with, to send 
 him to the fountain-head of fox-hunting, which Melton 
 surely is, and where advantages are to be looked for 
 similar to those thought so much of at Oxford. You 
 know you doat on Frank ; he is a noble-hearted fellow ; 
 you will be delighted in making him happy ; so at once 
 open your purse-strings, and do so. Give him a few 
 hundreds towards purchasing his horses, and add another 
 hundred or two to his allowance." 
 
 "Your logic, Inkleton, is certainly good," said the 
 uncle ; " you have taken it from a great authority : Dr. 
 Johnson has told us, that whatever is worth doing at all, 
 is worth trying to do well. I confess I like what I have 
 seen of the Melton men ; they are sportsmen and gentle- 
 men ; and although I could have wished to have seen 
 Frank a little higher up in the tree of life, I will 
 endeavour that he shall preserve the place he has allotted 
 to himself. I will, then, yield to your suggestions ; I 
 will give him £500 towards purchasing his horses, and 
 will add £200 a year to his allowance." 
 
 As may be imagined, the Baronet was not slow in 
 communicating this good news to his young friend, who 
 felt, as he ought to have felt, the kindness of both parties. 
 Nor was it without its good effect on Frank Raby, inas- 
 much as, in the overflow of his heart, he determined upon 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 217 
 
 making known to each of his benefactors the affair of the 
 fillies, and the result of their racing career, appending 
 thereunto a promise that, until he was in circumstances 
 better suited to the pursuit, he had taken his leave of 
 racing. But how did the uncle relish this outbreak of our 
 young sportsman, and the somewhat clandestine spirit in 
 which it had been carried on ? The fact is, he was so 
 much pleased with the subsequent ingenuous deportment 
 of his dearly-beloved Frank, when detailing the various 
 circumstances as they occurred and related to himself, as 
 the sufferer ; and more especially so with the small share 
 of vituperation bestowed by him on the scoundrel who had 
 handled him so mercilessly, that he merely made use of 
 this short expression : — 
 
 " Well, Frank, let all this be forgotten ; you were in a 
 serious scrape, which, no doubt, will be a warning to you, 
 and you got out of it much better than might have been 
 expected." 
 
 The Baronet and his young friend having passed the even- 
 ing of this day together, the former took an opportunity 
 of expressing himself nearly in the following words : — 
 
 "If you will follow my advice, Frank, I should 
 recommend you to abandon your present purpose of 
 visiting Melton Mowbray next season, and I know a 
 man who will take the stables you have engaged off your 
 hands. I do this from a regard to your comfort and good 
 name, being convinced, from experience, which is our 
 best preceptor, after all, in matters of this kind, that your 
 present income is not equal to the expenses of such an 
 establishment as you would require at that place. You 
 would not like to be in the background among your 
 compeers, and nothing under a stud of ten efficient hunters 
 would keep you in the same rank with them. Six good 
 ones will be enough in almost all other countries but 
 Leicestershire ; and, were I in your place, I would content 
 myself, for a few years, with what the Melton men call 
 'the provincials,' making an annual visit to Melton at 
 the conclusion of the season, if you like it, when the 
 ploughed countries get dry, and the sport they show, 
 consequently, becomes rare. I would recommend you to 
 the following packs : — to those of the Duke of Beaufort 
 and Sir Thomas Mostyn, in Oxfordshire ; to that of Mr. 
 Corbet, in Warwickshire ; of Mr. Musters, in Nottingham- 
 shire ; of Lord Darlington and Mr. Ralph Lambton, in 
 
2i8 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 Durliam ; Mr. Leche and Sir Ricliard Puleston, in 
 Cheshire ; Mr. Farquharson, in Dorsetshire ; Lord Fitz- 
 william, in Huntingdonshire and Cambridgeshire ; and 
 Lord Vernon, in the Atherstone country. The masters of 
 these hounds are all of them eminent sportsmen, and, by 
 a close observance of their proceedings, you will learn 
 much, and be better able to appreciate what you may 
 afterwards experience in countries more distinguished for 
 their capability of showing sport, and which, perhaps, 
 deservedly stand at the head of all others." 
 
 This somewhat unwelcome advice was listened to with 
 attention by our hero, rendered the less welcome, in fact, 
 by the recent publication of the Billesden Coplow poem, 
 by Mr. Lowth, which not only added greatly to the re- 
 putation of Leicestershire as a hunting country, but, from 
 its spirit-stirring lines, had very much increased his desire 
 to make one of the many choice spirits whose names and ex- 
 ploits gave birth to them.^ His good sense, however, at 
 length got the mastery over his desires, and, to the great 
 satisfaction of the Baronet, he yielded to his friendly advice. 
 
 1 As Horace says of Anacreon, to relish this poem we should 
 transport ourselves, in idea, to the time in which it was written ; 
 but one of its great recommendations is, the author having been 
 an eye-witness of a great part of what he relates. As the poet 
 says : — 
 
 "He on whose natal hour the queen 
 
 Of verse hath smiled, shall never grace 
 The Isthmian gauntlet, or be seen 
 First in the famed Olympic race ; " 
 
 and that Mr. Lowth did not go to the end of this terrible run, 
 is not a matter of surprise ; for it took place over, perhaps, the 
 severest part of all the Quorn country. There are a few 
 typographical inaccuracies in the last edition published (although 
 they appeared, I believe, in the original one), such as Wardle for 
 Wardell, and " short home " for "sweet home." The first-named 
 error led to the confounding the late Colonel Wardle, of Mary Ann 
 Clarke notoriety, with the person intended to be introduced — viz., 
 the late Jacob Wardell, who, although not making a conspicuous 
 figure here, became, afterwards, a first-flight man, and sold one of 
 his hunters for 800 guineas — a great price in those days — in 
 consequence of his carrying him through a famous run. Again, for 
 the sake of the rhyme, justice is not done to the Hon. Martin 
 Eawke, who is said to have been reduced to a %ca2k, whereas, 
 although that might have occurred at one period of the run, I have 
 good reason to know that he was iip at the end of it, and rode his 
 mare afterwards to Melton, twenty-one miles, in company with the 
 late Mr. Germaine. 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 219 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 A season with Sir Thomas Mostyn, in the Bicef^ter country, with 
 anecdotes of some of the leading sportsmen in the provinces at 
 that day, and a glance at "home, sweet home." 
 
 THE summer having passed away much in the same 
 manner in which summers have since done, and our 
 hero having partaken of the amusements of London up 
 to a certain period, and of the partridge and pheasant- 
 shooting at the Abbey, in the autumn, he commenced his 
 winter career under very favourable circumstances. He 
 had a stud of seven hunters, strong, but not deficient in 
 blood, together with a capital hack, bred by his father, by 
 an Arabian sire out of a strong English mare. Moreover, 
 he had himself a naturally strong constitution, con- 
 sequently, excellent health, and, thanks to the liberality of 
 his relations, a fair account at his banker's. With a light 
 heart, then, and well-braced nerves, he followed his 
 horses to the humble town of Bicester, twelve miles from 
 Oxford, on the Buckingham road, where he found a few 
 sportsmen collected together for the same purpose as his 
 own ; namely, to enjoy the pleasures of the chase in a 
 country of which he had had some experience during his 
 residence at the University of Oxford. 
 
 Neither was Frank Raby disappointed in the object now 
 in his view. He obtained an introduction to the master 
 of the pack, a good, honest Welshman, of plain, unaffected 
 manners, but of extremely gentlemanlike deportment^ 
 and in every way qualified for the situation he filled. A 
 single man, possessed of £20,000 a year, and with no other 
 heavy expenses but his hounds, he was able to do the 
 thing with spirit, and with spirit was it done throughout. 
 He had a full complement of hounds, and a good stable of 
 horses ; and the utmost regularity was observed in every 
 part of the establishment. But what most struck our 
 young sportsman, as regarded the establishment, was, the 
 perfect little Welsh colony that was established in this 
 part of England by Sir Thomas Mostyn and his connec- 
 tions, brought with them, at different periods, from North 
 Wales. The connections consisted of Sir Edward Lloyd, 
 since created Lord Mostyn, who married the Baronet's 
 
220 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 sister, and at length succeeded to his property ; and Mr. 
 Griffith Lloyd, his brother, a fellow of All Souls, Oxford, 
 both good sportsmen. As may be expected, more Welsh 
 gentlemen occasionally sojourned in the neighbourhood, 
 for the sake of hunting with their countryman, who was 
 deservedly popular amongst them all. 
 
 But the great object of attraction in the eyes of Frank 
 Raby was the huntsman to this pack, the very celebrated 
 Shaw, who afterwards hunted the Belvoir hounds with so 
 much spirit and eclat. There was a peculiarity in his 
 manner of hunting his hounds which was quite unlike 
 anything he had ever before seen, as well as a quickness, 
 almost approaching to wildness, in his motions, that could 
 not be lost upon anyone who was capable of common 
 observation. And to show the repute he was in as a 
 huntsman, and the value put on his services by his master, 
 his salary — for wages would be an improper term for such 
 an annual sum, although paid to a person occupying what 
 may be called a menial situation — was £300 per annum, 
 with a servant to arrange his apartment ! And then his 
 horsemanship also surprised Frank Raby. There was an 
 ease and elegance in his seat not often witnessed even in 
 the higher orders of life, together with a quickness that 
 kejDt him always in his place, and this with a pack noted, 
 as that of Sir Thomas Mostyn was, in those days, for going 
 a racing pace whenever the scent served. And he was 
 told of an extraordinary circumstance that occurred to 
 Shaw, which made a lasting impression on his mind. He 
 first commenced hunting Sir Thomas Mostyn's hounds in 
 what is called the Woore country, comprising parts of 
 Staffordshire and Cheshire, previously to their removal 
 into Oxfordshire. It so happened, at this time, that, 
 partly from a scarcity of foxes, and partly from ill-luck 
 in not catching them, the space of seventeen days had 
 passed over without his hounds tasting blood. Having, 
 then, marked a fox to ground in an earth on the side of a 
 bank, Shaw determined on digging to him, although the 
 night had commenced, and the assistance of lanthorns had 
 become necessary. At length he got him in his hand, not 
 a little to his satisfaction, and, throwing him to the pack, 
 who were below him, on very slanting ground, and 
 hallooing " TVho-hoop ! " most lustily, expected to see him 
 devoured. But no ; the nature of the ground favoured 
 him ; the hounds overshot their mark, and reynard rolling 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 221 
 
 himself over, escaped all their mouths ; and bade them, 
 for the present, good night. As may be supposed, there 
 was no stopping the pack with a fox so near to them as 
 this was ; and away they went in the dark, through 
 several strong covers, without anyone being able to follow 
 them, many not returning to the kennel until the next 
 morning. 
 
 The name of Eaby, added to some little reputation our 
 hero had already gained in the hunting world, was a 
 passport sufficient to introduce him into the best society 
 of this part of Oxfordshire. Neither could he have fixed 
 on a better place, in some respects, to have made what 
 might be called his debut in the hunting world, with a 
 perfectly organized establishment, and with a view to 
 future proceedings. In the first place, that part of 
 Oxfordshire called the Bicester country is one in which a 
 man attains useful lessons on riding to hounds, inasmuch 
 as, from the depth of its soil, the strength of its fences, 
 and its numerous brooks, it is by no means one that can 
 be trifled with ; on the contrary, it requires a good horse- 
 man, on a good horse, to be enabled to live well over it 
 with hounds. In the next, he reaped the benefit of good 
 example in some of the conspicuous members of the 
 Mostyn Hunt, at that period comprising some of the first 
 horsemen of the age. For example, the present Earl of 
 Jersey, then Lord Villiers, would often be seen at the 
 cover side, previously to his removing his stud to Melton 
 for the season : Sir Henry Peyton was then in his prime, 
 and, taking a season throughout, was not to be beaten by 
 any man — when on Watchmaker especially, on whom he 
 took a leap, of which a drawing was made, and a plate from 
 it, in the " Sporting Magazine." It was a stile, with a 
 brook on the landing side, over which was a long foot- 
 bridge, all of which he cleared, and stopped the whole 
 field. The late Mr. Harrison, of Shelswell, a few miles 
 from Bicester, was also a beautiful horseman, and had a 
 stable of capital horses, no price stopping him. The 
 Lloyds (brothers) were likewise good, the elder (the 
 Baronet) especially at water. The celebrated Mr. Davey 
 would also occasionally be seen with these hounds on the 
 Northamptonshire side of the country, over which, being 
 the strongest almost in England, he was much given to 
 shine. To prepare him for Billesden Coplow, too, the 
 quickness of Shaw in his saddle, when hounds ran hard, 
 
222 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 was by no means disadvantageous to our young sportsman 
 as an example. 
 
 And what did Frank Raby think of the hounds ? His 
 sentiments on this subject shall be exhibited in the 
 following letter to his friend Hargrave, who was at that 
 time hunting in Essex : — 
 
 ' ' Bicester, November 20th, 1810. 
 
 " Dear Hargrave, — I have spent the month of Nov- 
 ember at this place, hunting with Sir Thomas Mostyn's 
 hounds, and occasionally with those of the Dukes of 
 Beaufort and Grafton, when they meet within reach. I 
 like the country much ; it looks like a fox-hunting 
 country, especially in the neighbourhood of the See Woods, 
 and the Quarters, where the foxes are capital, and generally 
 show runs. The Northamptonshire side of it is superb, 
 but infernally strong as to fences, with the river Charwell 
 passing through it. I saw a splendid run over it last 
 Friday, from Boddington Hill to Abdy Wood, in the 
 Pytchley country, fifteen miles as the crow flies, and with 
 only one check. Very few saw the finish, but I was one 
 of the few, on the General, who went well to the end, and 
 only gave me one fall. When you come here you must 
 bring horses of power as well as blood, on account of the 
 depth of the country in many parts ; and also good water 
 jumpers, as there are many brooks. It is not uncommon 
 to meet with half a dozen in a day ; and to convince you 
 of the truth of what I say, I counted seven bridges on the 
 road from Gallows Bridge to Bicester, a distance of only 
 eight miles. 
 
 " I like the people also. Mostyn is a perfect gentleman, 
 both in appearance and manners. The Lloyds are good 
 sportsmen ; ' Griff",' as he is called (his Christian name is 
 Griffith, a Welsh, but not a high-sounding, prenomen), 
 especially, who is said to have the quickest eye to a heavy 
 vixen, in the spring of the year, of any man going, and 
 capital in a wood. He takes rather an active part in the 
 field, as well as in the kennel, not much to the delight of 
 Shaw, as I am told, who has anticipated injury to the pack 
 by his being too much prejudiced to one sort of hound. 
 For example : there is a beautiful bitch called Lady, whose 
 picture, with her cubs, is in almost every house in the 
 county, and from which, and her produce, there are a 
 great number of hounds in the kennel — more than should 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 223 
 
 be, good judges say. Some persons will tell you a pack of 
 foxhounds should seem to be all of one family ; but I think 
 that characteristic should only extend to the look, as 
 breeding too much in-and-in, as it is called, will not do 
 with either the human or brute race, and no doubt the 
 objection extends to the canine. Whether it be from that 
 cause, or otherwise, I cannot say, but these hounds have 
 not much tongue with even a moderate scent, and still 
 less, of course, with a good one. With a good one, how- 
 ever, they go at a tremendous rate. It would do your 
 heart good to see Villiers, Peyton, and Harrison ride a 
 sharp burst. They are beautiful horsemen and not to be 
 beaten by any man in this country, or, I believe, in any 
 other. 
 
 " I need not tell you anything of the Duke of Beaufort's 
 hounds, as you have so often hunted with them from 
 Oxford ; but I believe you never saw the Duke of Grafton's 
 pack. You would be much pleased with Rose, their 
 huntsman, better known as ' Tom Rose.' He is the very 
 pattern-card of a huntsman, in all respects ; has a most 
 intelligent countenance, the voice of a Stentor, speaking 
 excellent dog language, and is a good horseman. The 
 hounds are not so neat as Mostyn's, but have more 
 power ; and they appear to be higher in flesh, which Rose 
 says is necessary in his very strong country, wherein the 
 woods are large and rough. The Fitzroys are considered 
 good sportsmen, but there is a gloom thrown over their 
 appearance in the field by the colour of their coats — a dark 
 green, which looks very sombre by the side of a bright 
 scarlet, which is that of the Mostynites. The latter have 
 the letter M on their button, which lately gave rise to a good 
 joke. One of them appearing in Leicestershire in this 
 costume, with a martingal on his horse, was asked by one 
 of the elite, ' whether the letter J/ implied martingal ? ' If 
 3'ou are not smothered in an Essex ditch (how can 3'ou 
 hunt in such a slow country as that ?) I would advise you 
 to come here next season. I think you will agree with 
 me that the country is a sporting one — the field composed 
 of sportsmen, and the whole thing done well. As for 
 Shaw, the huntsman, you will be delighted with him. 
 To use a common phrase, he is as quick as lightning in all 
 his motions — a little too quick, some of the knowing ones 
 say ; and I like to watch his countenance, when his hounds 
 are at a ticklish point. He has a peculiar expression of 
 
224 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 the eye, which shows how his heart and soul are absorbed 
 in the sport. 
 
 "We had a fine run yesterday, from a cover called 
 Gravenhill, which, being within such easy reach of Oxford, 
 produced a good show of tyros, as you and I may now call 
 those of the cap and gown who have a taste for hunting. 
 The fox crossed the brook at starting, and several of them 
 got into it, as usually is the case, for you know it is a 
 teazer. I followed Peyton, and got well over on Achilles, 
 who, you know, is capital at water. I stuck to him 
 throughout the whole run, and towards the end of it 
 the following epigrammatic sentences were pleasantly ex- 
 changed between us : — ' More willow-trees, Sir Henry,' 
 said I ; ' another brook, I suppose ? ' 'Go along,' replied 
 this fine horseman, 'and don't stop to look at it.' We 
 both got well over, and had the best of it to the end of 
 a fine run, and over a fine country. But, talking of 
 brooks, there is a proper teazer in the Banbury country, — 
 no less than the Charwell, which, as you know, is navigal3le 
 far above Oxford. It gets less and less as you approach 
 Northamptonshire, and is jumpable in places in the 
 Chipping Warden country. I tried it the other day, on 
 the General, but, although he landed me, he fell back, 
 and had a narrow escape from drowning. ' The Charwell 
 was 7iever leaped,' said Griff Lloyd to me. ' Pardon me,' 
 said I, ' it has been leaped this day, and I will ride at it 
 again, if it comes in my way,' Let me know what you 
 have been doing in your country. Those Koodings foxes 
 are, I believe, proverbially stout, and I am informed there 
 is no better sportsman than Mr. Charles Newman, the 
 master of the hounds with which you hunt. One day 
 or another I hope I may see him. 
 
 "I have given up Melton for this year — indeed, until 
 finances increase. llacing, also, I have promised my 
 uncle to think no more about — for the present at least ; 
 so the hunters, the gun, and the fishing - rod, must 
 furnish the out-a-door amusement ; the cook, the butler, 
 and the young ladies, with a peep, now and then, into 
 the classics (for I will not give them up), the pleasures 
 within the walls, secondary, I admit, to the others ; for — 
 
 No sport to the chase cau compare, 
 
 So manly the pleasure it yields ; 
 How sweet, how refreshing that air 
 
 Inhaled in the woods and the fields ! 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 225 
 
 As we rush in pursuit, new scenes still appear, — 
 
 New landscapes encounter the eye ; 
 Not Handel's sweet music more pleases the ear, 
 
 Than that of the hounds in full cry. 
 
 New strength from the chase we derive ; 
 
 Its exercise sweetens the blood ; 
 How happy those mortals must live, 
 
 When sport yields both physic and food ! 
 So new and so vai-ied its charms they ne'er cloy, 
 
 Like those of the bottle and face ; 
 The oftener— the harder — the more we enjoy, 
 
 The more we're in love with the chase. 
 
 " Having become poetical, it is time to conclude ; so 
 subscribe myself, — Dear Hargave, truly yours, 
 
 "Frank Raby. 
 
 " P.S. — My uncle has been very ill ; everybody says he 
 is breaking fast. I hope not ; for he is too good a fellow 
 to drop short before his time ; and although there is no 
 doubt of my being a great gainer by his death, it is an 
 event that, so far from desiring, I would do all in my 
 power to avert." 
 
 There was an extraordinary character at this time 
 hunting with Sir Thomas Mostyn's hounds, and who 
 afterwards made himself so signal by his pedestrian feats, 
 as to be known by name and character to all the nations 
 in the civilized world. I allude to Captain Barclay, 
 of ITry, in Aberdeenshire, who, a few years subsequent 
 to the period to which I am alluding, performed the 
 Herculean task of walking 1000 miles in 1000 hours, 
 over Newmarket race-course, for a bet of several thousand 
 pounds. The Captain was likewise, at this period, a great 
 patron of the boxing ring ; and our hero having somewhat 
 of a penchant for the manly science of self-defence, their 
 acquaintance grew into intimacy, which continued through 
 life. He was also considered a good and scientific sports- 
 man, as well as an excellent judge of a hunter ; and on 
 the subject of the latter, offered his friend Raby the 
 following useful advice, enforcing it with the result of 
 the performance of his own stud : — 
 
 " Purchase your hunters," said the Captain, " with 
 more strength than is merely required to carry your 
 weight. / get into the saddle full fourteen stone, not- 
 
 15 
 
226 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 withstanding which, I hunted eighty-three times during 
 the last season, although the amount of my stud did not 
 exceed four ; and I was only enabled to do this by the 
 superior strength of my horses. Never purchase horses," 
 added he, " that are not, at least, a stone above your 
 weight." 
 
 The Captain and our hero being domiciled in the same 
 town, it is only natural to suppose they occasionally met 
 in the evening, as well as by the cover side. " Is it true, 
 Captain Barclay," said the latter to him, as they sat one 
 evening over their claret, " that you drove the mail coach 
 from London to Aberdeen, a distance of nearly 400 miles, 
 without any relief ? " 
 
 " Quite true," he replied ; " and I offered to drive it 
 back again for the same wager." 
 
 " Then your journey to London to see a fight ! " resumed 
 his companion. 
 
 " Oh ! " answered this modern Hercules, " I considered 
 that nothing beyond the fact of my being exposed to bad 
 weather for so long a time, having stolen a march from 
 my regiment, saying I was only going to take a walk, and 
 absolutely starting without a great-coat. I mounted the 
 box of the mail at Chester (my regiment was quartered 
 at Wrexham, eleven miles distant from that city) ; saw 
 the fight at Wormwood Scrubs, on the other side of 
 London, the next day but one ; returned on the box of 
 the mail to Shrewsbury, and, walking thence to Wrexham, 
 appeared in the messroom on the fifth evening. My clothes 
 were wet and dry several times during the journey, and 
 you are aware how rough the box of the mail is, from the 
 pace it travels at, in comparison with that of the stage- 
 coaches." ^ 
 
 "And is it possible," continued Frank Raby, "that a 
 man of your athletic make can be a fast runner ? " 
 
 "I never ran more than one match," replied Captain 
 Barclay, ^^ my forte being walking ; but in a match against 
 John Ward, which I won with 2 to 1 against me, I ran 
 440 yards, or a quarter of a mile, in fifty-six seconds." 
 
 " That you are a patron of the boxing ring," resumed 
 our young sportsman, " all the world knows ; I am an 
 admirer of it myself, but, partly to meet the wishes of my 
 father, and more particularly so those of an uncle from 
 
 1 The boxes of all public coaches were not at this period on 
 springs, as they now are. 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 227 
 
 whom I have no trifling expectations, I do not publicly 
 avow myself as such/"' 
 
 " My dear fellow," said the Captain, " you will excuse 
 my saying, that both your father and your uncle take a 
 wrong view of the practice and effects of what is called 
 prize-fighting, very probably confounding it with the 
 fights of the gladiators in ancient times — and upon a lower 
 scale it certainly does admit of a slight comparison — in 
 which men were either in part deprived of resistance, or 
 opposed to very unequal force. No man now enters the 
 ring but upon perfectly equal terms, or on as nearly such 
 as circumstances will allow ; and the display of manly 
 intrepidity, firmness, gallantry, activity, strength, and 
 presence of mind, which these contests call forth, is an 
 honour to the English nation, and such as no man need 
 be ashamed of viewing with interest, pride, and delight ; 
 and we may safely predict that, if the magistrates, or 
 Government, through a mistaken notion of preserving the 
 public peace, succeed in suppressing them, there will be 
 an end of that sense of honour, and spirit, and gallantry, 
 which distinguish the common people of this country 
 from that of all others ; and which is not only the best 
 guardian of their morals, but, perhaps, the only security 
 now left either for our civil liberty or political independence. 
 If Englishmen are restrained from fighting occasionally 
 for prizes and honorary distinctions, they will soon cease 
 to fight at all, and decide their private quarrels with 
 daggers or knives, instead of fists, in which case the lower 
 orders will become a base rabble of cowards and assassins, 
 ready at any time to sacrifice the higher to the avarice or 
 ambition of a foreign foe. No people under the sun are 
 less cruel than the English now are, or so little prone to 
 shed blood ; and, even admitting there is some cruelty in 
 prize-fighting, experience has shown that cruel sports do 
 not create a cruel people ; and, strange to say, the love of 
 gladiators among the Romans increased as the people 
 began to be civilized, and as their manners, in other 
 respects, became more refined. Even the excellent and 
 humane Titus encouraged all such exhibitions of science 
 and manly courage ; and we find Pliny, in his panegyric 
 on the still more excellent Trajan, stating his belief, that 
 the public shows, exhibited at that emperor's expense, had 
 no tendency to weaken or debauch the soul ; on the 
 contrary, that they excited the courage of the spectators ; 
 
228 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 making them proud, rather than afraid of honourable 
 scars, whilst they beheld slaves thirsting after praise, 
 inflamed with the love of victory. What did Mr. 
 Wyndham say in reference to it, the other day, in the 
 House of Commons ? — and a more humane man than 
 himself does not at this time exist. ' It is thought,' said 
 he, 'that the prevention of conflicts between inferior 
 animals might prove prejudicial to the courage of the 
 people. In defence of this hypothesis, Britons have ever 
 been distinguished for what is called bottom, or pluck. 
 But conflicts between inferior animals, and those between 
 rational beings, such as men, bear no comparison, inasmuch 
 as, in the one case, the will of the combatant is not 
 consulted, and he may consequently be compelled to fight, 
 not only against his inclination, but likewise on unequal 
 terms.' Again, the picture he presented to the champion 
 of the British boxing ring, of the victim bleeding from 
 the assassin's knife, and the accompanying inscription, 
 written with his own hand, show his opinion in un- 
 equivocal terms. However, let me refer your father and 
 uncle to a recent charge to the grand jury by one of our 
 most distinguished judges, in my opinion highly charac- 
 teristic of the national character, and plainly intimating 
 that, if we do not encourage boxing, we must be prepared 
 for the viler practices of the stiletto, or the knife. ' I 
 cannot,' said his lordship, in allusion to a charge in the 
 calendar for cutting and maiming, ' but express my regret 
 that a knife should have been found in the hands of an 
 Englishman, as an instrument of off'ensive quarrel. It was 
 formerly the practice in this country, when men fell out, 
 to fight as long as they could, and possibly to do each 
 other as much injury as could be inflicted by the personal 
 strength of the combatants ; but they fought in an open, 
 fair, and honourable manner ; they took no mean advan- 
 tages ; they had no recourse to deadly instruments to 
 procure superiority, or to gratify revenge. I will take 
 care, so long as common assaults are punishable by the 
 law, to visit, with the utmost severity of that law, those 
 who dare to desert that mode of defence which nature has 
 given, and which time has almost sanctified in their own 
 country, and who have chosen to adopt that foreign 
 practice of employing instruments of this description 
 against an opponent. Gentlemen, the practice of boxing 
 has often been a subject of discussion in this country ; I 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 229 
 
 must say, that it seems to me a practice that may be very 
 advantageously encouraged to a limited extent. It is, in 
 some sort, a law of peace, for it discourages the use of 
 unfair means of attack ; it prevents malicious retaliation ; 
 it only enables men to employ, fairly, advantages they 
 may naturally possess, and from the al)use of which they 
 are restrained by the point of honour ; and while it 
 encourages a proper English spirit, it prevents courage 
 from degenerating into brutality, and secures men from 
 the treachery and malignity of those whom they have 
 offended.' This language," said the Captain, "is cor- 
 roborated by the well-known fact that, in Lancashire, 
 where fair boxing is very little resorted to in quarrels, 
 there are forty cases of manslaughter for one that takes 
 place in any other county in England. Then, as to the 
 charge of cruelty on the part of the promoters of boxing, 
 it cannot be sustained in the face of evidence to the 
 contrary. Where is there a more humane man than 
 Jackson, the present captain of the ring ; or Thomas 
 Belcher, the champion of all England ? "Within four 
 miles of where we are now sitting, are two promoters of 
 the ring — the worthy master of the hounds, and Mr. 
 Henson — than whom the world cannot produce two 
 kinder-hearted men. Who will accuse me of cruelty 
 towards man or beast ? " added the Captain emphati- 
 cally ; " such was never my disposition ; and I can 
 honestly assert that, so far from having witnessed in the 
 ring anything having a tendency to make me so, I have 
 witnessed the display of feeling and conduct productive 
 of the most opposite effects. Only let public pugilistic 
 contests go on as they are now conducted — with honour 
 and credit to the parties concerned — and, my word for it, 
 they will be the source of infinitely more good than harm 
 to society." 
 
 " The sentiments you have given utterance to," observed 
 Raby, "are precisely those which I myself entertain, and 
 which I have oftentimes availed myself of when arguing 
 the subject with my uncle. I remember reading to him a 
 passage from the speech of an eminent counsel, who was 
 defending five persons, indicted for having riotously 
 assembled for the purpose of witnessing a prize-fight, and 
 resisted the authority of an officer employed by the 
 magistrates to disperse them. ' As to the practice of 
 boxing, a great deal has been said about it of late, and the 
 
230 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 counsel for the prosecution has endeavoured to work upon 
 the feelings of the jury bv stating that such encounters 
 sometimes terminate fatally. The common law of England 
 had, however, made wrestling, cudgel-playing, and even 
 bull-baiting, legal : people assembled to witness or engage 
 in those national pastimes — those manly exercises of 
 Englishmen — did not as much as come within the defini- 
 tion of a riotous or unlawful assembly, yet wrestling 
 and bull-baiting often terminated fatally. Such sports, 
 however, preserved the health, the vigour, and the 
 characteristic courage of the English people, and our 
 brave ancestors had, therefore, looked upon them with 
 indulgence. He asked the jury to look at the practice of 
 boxing, not through the medium of a mawkish senti- 
 mentality, but with the feelings of sensible and manly 
 Englishmen, who partook of the generous courage which 
 had raised this country above all the other nations on the 
 earth. He had heard it observed, by one of the greatest 
 advocates in Westminster Hall, that the same God who 
 made man rational also made him resentful. It was, 
 indeed, characteristic of Englishmen to be resentful of 
 insult, but not vindictive. They preferred returning an 
 insult or a blow at the instant, to cherishing a spiteful 
 recollection for an opportunity of dark and malignant 
 revenge. They were prone to the manly habit of fighting 
 out their quarrels on the spot, and retaining no ill-will 
 afterwards. They did not, like the people of Italy, 
 avenge their exasperated feelings by the cowardly use of 
 the stiletto ; nor, like the people of Portugal or Spain, 
 by the knife ; neither did they gouge and maim their 
 antagonists with the savage barbarism of North America. 
 The practice of boxing in a ring tanght them the 
 observance of fair play. To that the infrequency of 
 assassination in England was to be attributed. He did 
 not mean to say that fighting of any description was not 
 an evil, but he confidently asserted that it could not be 
 put down without a greater evil arising out of its 
 suppression. Boxing - matches could not be abolished 
 without encouraging assassination ; and to such a lament- 
 able change in the English character he was sure the 
 jury would not allow themselves to be made instru- 
 mental.'"' 
 
 " May I ask what was the result of the trial ?" said the 
 Captain. 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 231 
 
 "Why," replied our hero, "the chairman told the 
 jury that the learned counsel had given a wrong inter- 
 pretation of the law, and, commenting upon the evidence, 
 considered it conclusive against the defendants." 
 
 " Then, of course, they were found guilty," observed 
 the Captain. 
 
 " Certainly not," answered Raby ; " they were not only 
 acquitted by the verdict of the jury that tried them on 
 the first indictment, but upon two other indictments 
 arising out of the same transaction it was thought ex- 
 pedient not to offer any evidence against them, and 
 verdicts of acquittal passed." 
 
 "And what were the principal objections to pugilistic 
 exhibitions urged by your father and uncle ? " inquired 
 the Captain. 
 
 "I do not, as this moment, recollect what my father 
 said on the subject," replied Raby ; " but my uncle drew 
 on antiquity for the arguments he made use of against 
 any such public displays, especially in cases wherein 
 money is the proffered reward. In the first place, he 
 contended, that a cold indifterence to the siglit of blood 
 and wounds was no characteristic of the true hero ; and, 
 looking back to antiquity, pronounced the Athlette, on 
 the authority of Euripides, to have been the worst soldiers 
 in Greece — so much so, indeed, as to induce Solon to 
 persuade the Athenians to allot the rewards bestowed 
 upon them to the maintenance of poor orphans, rather 
 than to them. Neither did gladiatorial exhibitions 
 continue in the Roman state after it ceased to be pagan. 
 Secondh', although it might have been good policy in the 
 Romans to impress their soldiers with a just contempt of 
 the power of elephants, by having a considerable number 
 of those animals driven through the circus at Rome by a 
 few slaves, armed with blunted javelins ; and although, 
 in Homer's time, bodily strength met with the greatest 
 honours, being necessary to the subsistence of little 
 governments — still, as our soldiers have no elephants to 
 contend with, and as, since the invention of gunpowder, 
 physical strength and personal exertion, so much depended 
 upon by the ancients, are now not essential, such ex- 
 hibitions are useless. Men are more upon an equality in 
 fighting than they were in the early ages of the world. 
 He admitted, however, that the spirit-stirring descrip- 
 tions of single combats with the fist or the cestus — those 
 
232 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 between Pollux and Amycus, so admirably told by 
 Theocritus in his twenty-second Idyllium, and between 
 Dares and Entellus, in the fifth ^neid of Virgil, 
 especially — had induced him to be present at a sparring- 
 match between two celebrated boxers of his younger days. 
 ' The attitude of these men,' said he, ' excited my highest 
 admiration ; that of one of them, in particular, reminding 
 me of Milton's descripton of the angel, whose 
 
 " starry helm unbuckled, show'd him prime 
 
 In manhood."! 
 
 The firm and erect posture of the body, the head drawn a 
 little back, the expanded chest, and the judicious position 
 of the brawny arms, certainly display the human form to 
 the greatest possible advantage ; and, in this particular 
 instance, I was favoured by a private display, by one of 
 the performers, of the grand and powerful expression of 
 his muscles, together with the agility and suppleness of 
 his movements. Having been instructed for the occasion, 
 he successively placed himself in the attitudes of the 
 fighting and dying gladiators, of the Hercules Farnese, 
 and other antique statues, as well as in that of the Atlas of 
 Michael Angelo ; finishing by exhibitions of strength and 
 activity beyond what I considered to exist in the human 
 form. This man became the champion of England ; and, 
 like the invincible Pancratiast of ancient Greece, finally 
 retired to his native place, not only with honours well 
 deserved by his bravery and good conduct in the ring, 
 but with a competency sufficient to render his situation 
 agreeable to him. Unwilling to be idle, however, he 
 became a teacher of gymnastic exercises, and was, in his 
 o^^-n person, the best example of their beneficial effects in 
 improving the health and increasing the strength and 
 beauty of the human figure.' " 
 
 1 What can be finer, or more true to the life, than Virgil's 
 description, in the fifth ^neid, of Entellus stripping in the 
 ring ?— 
 
 " Hie fatus, duplicem ex humeris refecit amiclum ; 
 Et magnos membrorum artus magna ossa lacertosque 
 Exuit ; atque ingens media consistit arena." 
 
 The same may be said of the set-to between Hector and Ajax, in 
 the fifth Iliad of Homer, and of the wrestling-match in the twenty- 
 thurd. 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 233 
 
 " "Well," observed the Captain, " I think your uncle 
 said nearly as much in favour of boxing or ' the science of 
 self-defence,' as we now call it, as he advanced in its dis- 
 praise ; and let me ask you whether you availed yourself 
 of the liberty given you to reply ? " 
 
 " Of course I did," answered our hero ; " and I think 
 I can call to mind most of the arguments I made use of. 
 Meeting him on his own ground, I reminded him of some 
 striking facts in the histories of the times to which he 
 alluded, favourable to the pursuit in question. In the 
 first place, I echoed your words, namely, that the love of 
 gladiatorial exhibitions, among the Romans, increased as 
 they began to be civilized, and as their manners in other 
 respects became more refined ; although I was obliged to 
 admit that it ceased when they became Christians ; and 
 we are very well assured that, amongst the ancient 
 Greeks, in the highest state of their refinement, education 
 was not considered complete in which the powers of the 
 body, as well as those of the mind, were not regarded and 
 cultivated to the utmost. The statue of Hercules, as well 
 as that of Mercury, adorned the gymnasia of Athens, 
 whilst that city was celebrated for the cultivation of every 
 liberal accomplishment ; and those of the higher orders in 
 society seldom passed a day without practising bodily 
 exercises in their gymnasia, of which boxing, we may 
 be assured, was one. Even in the time of Lycurgus, 
 sumptuary laws, and the proscription of everything that 
 had a tendency to soften the minds and enervate the 
 bodies of the Spartans, were enforced ; and, centuries 
 after that period, it was owing to Alexander the Great 
 sending 30,000 children, of the best families, to be 
 educated in Macedonian exercises, that he secured the 
 possession of the Persian empire, which he had acquired 
 solely by the effeminacy of the Persian soldiery. ^ Amongst 
 the characters of fiction, equal honours have been given 
 to those who distinguished themselves in pugilistic en- 
 counters ; and the circumstance of the dandy. Dares, 
 thrashing the huge Entellus, shows that the use of the 
 fists was by no means beneath the practice of a gentleman. 
 
 1 Amongst the principal games celebrated in honour of Patroclus, 
 as enumerated in Homer's Iliad, boxing is mentioned ; and the 
 duel of Ulysses with the beggar Irus is one of the most diverting 
 incidents in the Odyssey. The King of Ithaca seems to have been 
 well calculated for the ring. 
 
234 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 Then care has been taken to prove that a bullying manner 
 rarely, if ever, accompanies true courage and even 
 consummate skill. For example : when Hector, in the 
 seventh book of the Iliad, is made to challenge to single 
 combat any of the Greek leaders, Ajax remains silent, 
 through modest reserve, till Nestor's speech rouses him to 
 an offer of meeting the defiance. Again, when the lot 
 falls upon him to be the champion on the occasion, the 
 same reserve marks his conduct. He merely expresses a 
 soldier's confidence in the result, and desires the Greeks 
 to pray to Jupiter for his success. Then, as I understand 
 is invariably the case with British pugilists. Homer takes 
 care to show that Ajax bore no personal ill-will towards 
 Hector when he went forth to fight him ; and it is on 
 this ground that Cicero, in his Tusculon questions, offers 
 an apology for the gladiatorial exhibitions of his country.^ 
 I finished my exordium," continued our hero, " on British 
 boxing, with a short extract from Jackson's ' Stranger in 
 America,' which I had written in my memorandum book 
 for the express purpose : — 
 
 " ' Gouging, in the State of Georgia,' says the author, 
 ' is thus practised : — the best man throws his antagonist 
 on the ground, and gets up with an eye in his hand, which 
 he has turned out of the socket with the thumb-stroke ; — 
 " The first eye for the honour of the State ! ! ! " They use 
 their teeth, sharpened with a file, and bite off ears and 
 noses. A scuffie took place among some sailors ; one of 
 them, a practised gouger, knocked out the candle, gouged 
 out three eyes, bit off one ear, tore a few cheeks, and made 
 good his retreat ! ' " 
 
 "And what said your uncle to all this?" asked the 
 Captain. 
 
 " Why, he gave a shudder, and expressed a wish to drop 
 the subject for the present." 
 
 " Had I been present at this conversation," resumed the 
 Captain, " I would have told your uncle that, although 
 the invention of gunpowder has put men more on an 
 
 1 Why Homer has chosen to represent Ajax as a loser in all the 
 games in which he is engaged at the funeral of Patroclus, is not 
 easily explained ; especially as they are of a nature in which his 
 bodily strength and vigour would have fair scope for exertion. 
 We may suppose, however, that, having fixed his reputation by 
 making him the resource of his countrymen on all important 
 occasions, it is of little consequence that others excel him in 
 sportive conflicts. 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 235 
 
 equality in battle, still, as has been proved in our 
 numerous and generally victorious contests with the 
 enemy, physical power in our soldiers has greatly served 
 our cause. It has been ascertained by the means of an 
 instrument called the dynamometer (or measure of 
 strength), that the English are the strongest of all 
 European nations, and, by a fourth part, stronger than 
 savages in a state of nature. Thus it appears that the 
 improvement of social order does not impair the physical 
 powers of man, as some persons have imagined ; but 
 experience has shown that the strength and activity of 
 the human frame, arising from the natural muscular 
 conformation of its parts, can be nearly trebled by proper 
 food and exercise, or what we call training. It has been 
 proved that, under such circumstances, man is infinitely 
 superior in strength to the horse, relatively to the size of 
 the latter, which is to that of a man as six or seven to 
 one ; and he is cajDable of being trained to beat him at 
 a continuance of labour. I, myself, walked 110 miles 
 in nineteen hours and twenty-seven minutes, and a man 
 named Granville went 142 miles in twenty-nine hours. 
 Taking the average of horses, not one in a thousand would 
 have performed either of these tasks. ^ The mechanical 
 construction of man, however, is admirably adapted to 
 his destination under any circumstances in which he may 
 be placed ; but the degree of strength which is attainable 
 by exercise, and lost by effeminacy, is, unfortunately, not 
 generally considered, or it would cause many to withdraw 
 themselves from the slavery of luxury, and induce them 
 to enlist under the banners of temperance and exercise, the 
 true sources of enjoyment, and the only efficient means 
 of utility. And this state of additional strength in man, 
 together with health which none but those who have 
 experienced it can appreciate, is found by those who are 
 trained for the ring to be attained by plain but sub- 
 stantial food, with good malt liquor, or water, and not 
 through the means of soups, jellies, or rich sauces, and 
 
 1 An ingenious Frenchman ascertained the strength of the human 
 frame, by placing on every part of a man's body, standing upright, 
 a number of weights, in sucla a manner that each part supported 
 as much as it could bear, relatively to the rest ; and it was found 
 by this contrivance that a man could stand under 2000 pounds. 
 Supposing, then, the bulk of the body of a horse to be as I have 
 stated, he ought to bear a weight of 12,000 or 14,000 pounds, 
 which no horse could bear. 
 
236 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 still less of spirituous liquors, or large quantities of wine, 
 which are all found detrimental both to health and 
 strength, 
 
 " Then look at our own case. Within the last ten days, 
 you and I have hunted nine times, the distances to and 
 from the places of meeting averaging twenty miles. Now, 
 adding thereunto the several fine runs we have seen, 
 during the late succession of good sport, we may safely 
 reckon upon having ridden fifty miles per day, putting 
 the extra exertion of riding over the country out of the 
 question. Have either of us, let me ask, felt the slightest 
 degree of fatigue from the doings of these ten days ? On 
 the contrary, have we not felt invigorated, and, in every 
 respect, in better health 1 Have we not enjoyed our meals, 
 and our wine, and our beds, rising in the morning with a 
 freshness not perceptible at other periods of the year, 
 in the summer months especially, when our exertions 
 necessarily abate ? Eely upon it, then, my young friend," 
 added the Captain, with no slight emphasis, "manly 
 exercises of all sorts should be encouraged in the youth 
 of this country ; and although the practice of j^trize- 
 fighting cannot altogether be justified on moral grounds — 
 inasmuch as the training two persons for the express 
 purpose of inflicting serious injury to each other, in cold 
 blood, at the hazard of sacrificing their lives, while thou- 
 sands of their fellow-men are looking on, for their amuse- 
 ment, is undoubtedly opposed to Christian feeling ; still, 
 up to the present time, considerably more good than evil 
 has arisen from it, in upholding the national character for 
 courage and fair play, and enabling Englishmen to boast, 
 not merely of their courage and fair play in their quarrels, 
 but that England is the only country under the sun, in which 
 the knife or the dagger is not used to avenge insults or in- 
 juries. There are, I am sorry to add, some signs of a 
 departure from the strictly honourable conduct hitherto 
 displayed in the British ring, the consequence of Jews 
 becoming prominent characters in it : should this become 
 manifest, it will lose the patronage of those highly re- 
 spectable persons who now support it so liberally — many 
 of them on principle — and I have no hesitation in saying, 
 that my support, earnest as it has hitherto been, will, in 
 that case, be withdrawn. But it is not only from the 
 practice of boxing that national advantages are derived : 
 the use of the cudgel and back-sword, or single-stick — as 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 237 
 
 a stick with a basket to guard the hand is called — is 
 equally serviceable in ,its way ; and I will show you a 
 man, to-morrow, at the cover side, who is one of the best 
 swordsmen in the army of the present day, having derived 
 his superiority from the constant use of the back-sword 
 while at Kugby school." 
 
 The season drawing to a close, and Frank Eaby, not 
 considering his stud strong enough to make a finish of it 
 at Melton, bent his steps homewards, and arrived at the 
 Abbey about the first week in April, having the pleasure 
 to find all his family in good health. Nearly the first 
 thing that he did, was to send for Mr. Robson, the 
 steward, and direct him as to making preparations for his 
 stud during the summer months ; neither was the order 
 a light one. But we will describe the meeting between 
 them on the occasion. 
 
 " Good morning to you, Eobson," said our hero ; " I am 
 glad to see you well. I want to arrange about my hunters, 
 eight in number, which I intend shall remain here during 
 the summer." 
 
 "Exactly so," replied the Scotchman. "We have a 
 good prospect of a fine bite of grass in the park by 
 May-day at furthest, and the Squire's hunters are always 
 turned out about that time. There is plenty of shade and 
 water, and it will do your heart good to see how the poor 
 beasts will gallop about and enjoy themselves on fine 
 summer days, and how fat they get. Then there will be 
 a fine herd of them together, with the Squire's eight, 
 and mv lady's ponies, and all the hacks ; oh ! how they 
 will—" 
 
 " Ay, ay ! I know what you are going to say, Robson," 
 resumed the young Squire ; " but I am not going to turn 
 my horses into the park, to knock their legs to pieces in 
 galloping, and stamping to rid themselves of flies, besides 
 losing all their condition, which is now quite perfect. 
 You must run me up four hovels in a dry and retired 
 part of the park, dividing each into two, with four outlets 
 of ground, well railed in, of about a quarter of an acre 
 each. The doors must be double the common width, with 
 rollers to the side-posts ; and if no water be at hand, a 
 water-cart must be made to hold two days' consump- 
 tion, and a one-horse cart at command, to carry hay and 
 corn." 
 
 " Hay and corn ! " exclaimed Robson ; " why surely, 
 
238 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 sir, 5'ou are not going to expend hay and corn on horses 
 when they do no work ! The expense of hunters is quite 
 
 enough in the winter months ; but surely, sir " 
 
 " Leave those matters to me," said Frank Eaby ; " if 
 the Squire has no very good old oats, purchase twenty 
 quarters of the best for me, the next market day, and let 
 the hovels and paddocks be run up without delay, as my 
 horses will be ready to be put into them by the first week 
 in May. But I have forgotten one thing ; I understand 
 you will have both lucern and winter tares ready by that 
 time ; and you must order a cart-load of them to be 
 brought to the hunters, whenever my groom thinks it 
 projDer to give them." 
 
 " The lucern and the tares will be very young at the 
 time you specify," resumed the steward. " It will be a 
 sore waste to cut them." 
 
 " The younger the better," answered our young sports- 
 man ; " there is no purpose to which you can put them, 
 that will pay half so well as that for which they are 
 required by me. But do not alarm yourself, Robson ; I 
 shall not want many of them, having been informed by 
 the best groom of the present day that much green food 
 of any sort is injurious to the condition of hunters ; and 
 on their condition does half of their excellence depend. 
 Indeed, the longer I live, the more I am convinced of the 
 truth of Mr. Warde's maxim, that ' the goodness and shape 
 of horses go in at their mouths.' " 
 
 The faithful steward ha^dng satisfied himself that 
 the sanction of his master had been obtained for this 
 outlay of capital, assured " Mr. Francis " that his orders 
 should be immediately executed, and with as much 
 economy as ^^ossible, oloserving, at the same time, that, 
 although he had never given the subject a moment's 
 consideration before, yet he was inclined to be of his 
 opinion as to the condition of the horses, which no doubt 
 would be very much affected by the sudden change of 
 keep. 
 
 " Besides," added he, "your horses, sir, will he safe in 
 the paddocks. Since I have lived with the Squire, we 
 have had three good hunters spoiled — two by being kicked 
 by others, and one gored by an ox. I have heard Dick 
 the huntsman say that he never rode but one hunter that 
 he could not find the bottom of, in the course of the 
 season, and that was a roan horse, called Marplot, which 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 239 
 
 -was obliged to be kept at house all summer, and for two 
 reasons : first, he was so vicious that he was dangerous to 
 the others in the park ; and secondly, his body was so 
 deep, in proportion to the length of his fore legs, that he 
 could not reach the ground with his mouth witliout great 
 difficulty, and of course straining his limbs. You do 
 not remember Marplot, Mr. Francis, but you have often 
 heard Dick talk of him. To be sure he always looked 
 very different to the other hunters, especially before 
 Christmas." 
 
 " And how was he treated in the summer ? " inquired 
 Mr. Francis. 
 
 " He stood in the stable with the coach-horses, and Dick 
 rode him almost every day, when exercising the hounds, 
 in the park," was the answer. 
 
 " His goodness in the field, and his superior condition, 
 are accounted for," said our hero, as he walked away from 
 the steward ; and on his road to the house he met Dick 
 going towards the kennel. " Where now, Dick ? " said he 
 to the man whom he once thought more of, perhaps, than 
 of any other in the w^orld — compared with whom Mr. 
 Egerton was a dunce, and even Sir John but second fiddle ; 
 — whose very words he had devoured as he sat on his 
 knee in the " hall," when describing the run of yesterday, 
 and anticipating that of to-morrow, which he had obtained 
 permission to witness. 
 
 " To the kennel, to feed, sir," replied Dick ; " will you 
 not come and see 'em ? " 
 
 " Not I, indeed, Dick," answered Frank Raby, " I would 
 not give twopence to see the best harriers in the world ; 
 in fact, I hate anything belonging to harriers. They are 
 always bow-wowing about the country, disturbing the 
 foxes, and they do more harm to farmers than two packs 
 of foxhounds, by being so long pottering in the same 
 place." 
 
 " Sorry to hear you talk so, Mr. Francis," said the old 
 huntsman, evidently chagrined at these remarks, "but our 
 hounds, you know, never hang long about any one place. 
 Indeed, the very last day but one, the Sc^uire was saying he 
 wished you had been with us, on one of your best hunters ; 
 we went from Burton Clumps to Fox's Barn, good eight 
 miles, as straight as a crow ever flew ; and, out of nine- 
 teen horsemen, six only were up when we killed the 
 hare." 
 
240 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 "Horsemen!" said our hero contemptuously, — "what 
 sort of horsemen ? " 
 
 " Why, some of the right sort, sir," replied Dick ; " Mr. 
 Hammond was one of them that could not go to the end, 
 and Farmer Williams on the old grey mare." 
 
 "The old grey mare," continued Frank, "fed upon 
 clover, hay, and Swedish turnips in the winter, and lying 
 with the feeding oxen all the summer." 
 
 " Beg pardon, sir," resumed Dick ; " it is true the old 
 mare lies with the feeding oxen in the summer, but the 
 old gentleman gives her the best of everything in the 
 winter, and the Squire's horses do not eat better hay or 
 corn. Then there was Lord Brock on one of his Leicester- 
 shire horses ; his Lordship had quite enough of it at the 
 finish ; and, what was more, I heard him tell the Squire 
 that he never saw hunting quite perfect till that day. It 
 certainly was a beautiful sight to see how the hounds did 
 their work from first to last ; how they turned with the 
 scent, and what a head they carried ; and how the blood 
 of old Tyrant told at the last, for every hound was in his 
 place." 
 
 Time had been when Frank Eaby would have been 
 entranced with this short but graphic description of an 
 eight miles' burst, but the charm was now dispelled ; so, 
 turning on his heel, he pursued his course with merely 
 telling Dick " it was all very fine, but he had taken his 
 leave of thistle-whipping." 
 
 Our hero's next visit was to the keeper, to inquire into 
 the state of his kennel. This he found quite to his satis- 
 faction. It contained three brace of well-broken setters ; 
 three couples and a half of spaniels, all as mute as a gate- 
 post ; two capital Newfoundlanders, then just coming into 
 fashion as retrievers of wounded game ; and four brace of 
 greyhounds of the best blood in the country, some of them 
 having proved themselves such by the various prizes they 
 had gained. But matters did not end here. Two brace 
 of fine young setters had been sent off into Cheshire, 
 in the pairing season, to be broken on the down- 
 charge system, by old Potts, and were not as yet returned. 
 "Your kennel, Perren, is all right," said our hero ; 
 "I think there will be few better teams than mine, 
 next year, on the moors. How does Jack get on in his 
 business ? Is he improved in his shooting and vermin- 
 catching ? " 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 241 
 
 " There is not a better shot than Jack in the conntry, 
 sir," replied Perren ; " and as to vermin-catching, not a 
 crow nor a magj^ie can escape him, much less a weasel or 
 a stoat. I'll back him, indeed, to kill magpies against any 
 keeper in England." 
 
 " How does he go to work ? " inquired Frank Eaby. 
 
 "Why, sir, perhaps you will smile when I tell you,"' 
 answered the keeper ; " he gets a live magpie and a cat,, 
 and has them staked down near to a wood, within a certain 
 distance of each other, but not quite within reach, when 
 the cries of the bird, at fear of the cat, are so loud and 
 unnatural as to bring every magpie in the wood to the 
 spot. He is sure to get a double shot ; and such is the 
 infatuation of these birds, by the scene that is going on,, 
 that they return to the spot, and thus afford him a second^ 
 and sometimes a third chance." 
 
 " By the way, Perren," said our hero, " I heard a good 
 story of a magpie the other day in London — or, I had 
 rather said, the mention of the bird was very happily 
 applied. A friend of the Prince of Wales, who says man}^ 
 good things, and is to a certain extent privileged to say 
 them in the royal presence, was complimenting his Eoyal 
 Highness on the excellence of his cook, adding that he 
 supposed ' there was only one pie which baffled his skill.' 
 ' What jDie is that ? ' inquired the Prince. ' Why, sir," 
 replied the wag, ' he cannot make a magpie.^ " 
 
 "And how are you off for foxes?" continued Frank 
 Raby. "Although I do not hunt in this country, and 
 perhaps never shall do so, I am not on that account the 
 less anxious that a good head of foxes should be found in. 
 it, and in our own covers especially." 
 
 " We were not deficient last season, sir," replied the 
 keeper ; " and they have whipped off from two heavy 
 vixens within the last fortnight ; there is also a litter of 
 cubs already in the Big Wood ; but a bad misfortune 
 happened to Jack, a few weeks back. He laid a trap over- 
 night for a polecat, and found a fox in it in the morning, 
 and, what was worst of all, a heavy vixen, almost ready to> 
 lay up her cubs." 
 
 " Anc what then 1 " exclaimed our young sportsman 
 hastily ; " was she dead ? " 
 
 " She was not dead, sir," replied the keeper, " but her 
 leg was so dreadfully mangled that I cut oft' the injured 
 part and let her go. She was, however, found dead, a fewr 
 16 
 
242 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 days afterwards, by one of our woodmen, in the Birch 
 ■Coppice. Jack immediately told me of what happened, 
 and recjuested that you should be informed of it, sir, for 
 which I gave him praise." 
 
 " That was much to his credit," resumed our young 
 sportsman. "Jack always was a good fellow, and I am 
 sure he would almost as soon have had his own leg in 
 a trap of his own setting as that of a fox ; but, in future, 
 let him give over setting traps of any sort. I hear keepers 
 say rabbit-traps do no harm, but I know to the contrary ; 
 they not only will hold and maim foxes, but foxes will 
 not lie in covers where they are set." 
 
 In our zeal for the success of the stables and kennel, we 
 have passed over the family at the Abbey without a word 
 of notice. After an absence of some months, and those 
 forming part of the second year after the melancholy 
 event that occurred, in the death of the eldest son, Frank 
 Raby was not void of anxiety, on his arrival at the Abbey, 
 as to the state in which he might find his father and 
 mother. In Mr. Raby he observed little, if any, visible 
 alteration either in person or manner. As regarded the 
 former, his uniform habits of life, a naturally sound con- 
 •stitution, regular out-of-doors' exercise, and, up to a late 
 period, almost uninterrupted prosperity, if they had not 
 bidden defiance to the all-consuming power of Time, had 
 caused his hand to fall so lightly upon him, that, in the 
 eyes of Frank, he did not appear to be a day older than 
 when he first knew him as his father ; and as regarded 
 the latter — his demeanour in the family circle — he had 
 called both philosophy and religion to his aid in bearing 
 up against a blow which he had not the power to ward 
 off. But not so the amiable and motherly Lady Charlotte. 
 The loss of her favourite son — the first-born of her love — 
 had so scathed and scorched her soul, that neither the 
 sympathy and kind offices of her friends, nor the most 
 delicate and cherishing attentions of her family — still less 
 the occupation and amusements sought out for her, were 
 able to dissipate her grief, and wean her from the recollec- 
 tion of her child, and the tragical scenes she had gone 
 through. She would occasionally appear joyless where 
 all around M^as gay ; the hue of health and contentment 
 had nearly forsaken her comjDlexion ; and her smiles, 
 which were wont to be so redundant, were now as transient 
 and fleeting as an April sun, peeping from beneath a 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 245 
 
 watery cloud, but obscured nearly as suddenly as it bursts 
 forth. Such vicissitudes as these, however, are fearful 
 lessons to all possessors of wealth and honours ; and their 
 participation in them tends to render those who possess 
 not such dazzling appearances more satisfied and contented 
 with their lot. But Lady Charlotte's trial was not yet 
 completed. Having constantly j)resent to her mind the 
 figure of her departed son during his illness — the deep 
 red hectic spot that burned in the centre of his cheek ; 
 the skin of his forehead of that transparent white which 
 added the mockery of beauty to the ravages of disease ; 
 his bright brown hair having that silken flow peculiar 
 to persons of delicate frame ; his form wasted to a fearful 
 thinness — to the utmost extent, indeed, to which the 
 human frame can be reduced without being dissolved ; 
 and in his gait, the flat-footed tread of weakness, instead 
 of the bounding step of youth which once was his ; when 
 dwelling upon this sad picture, then, and viewing it, as 
 she did, through the medium of a morbid imagination, 
 natural though we may allow it to have been, — for, as 
 the poet says — 
 
 "When trees do drop their fruits in autumn ripeness, 
 'Tis Nature's common course, and so we look on't ; 
 But when unseasonous frosts nip promising buds, 
 And lovely blossoms, then the heart grows sad 
 To see those troth-plights of much after riches 
 Untimely broken ; " — 
 
 she ever and anon fancied that signs of the same insidious 
 complaint were visible in the person of her eldest daughter, 
 just budding into womanhood. Then her imagination was 
 strengthened and her fears increased by having read in 
 books that there is a sacred halo round those whom we 
 see in the bloom of years destined for the grave, and even 
 that — bugbear as it might be — would occasionally present 
 itself to her diseased mind. Here, however, her prayers 
 were heard, and the cup of bitterness was not suffered to 
 overflow. Nature came to the relief of one of the fairest 
 of her creatures : as the frame of Miss Raby expanded, 
 her strength proportionately increased, and in three years 
 from the period to which we are alluding, there were not 
 two healthier nor handsomer young ladies than herself in 
 her own county, or in the next. The health and spirits of 
 her amiable and once beautiful mother also revived to 
 
244 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 a certain degree, and tliat was as much as could be ex- 
 pected ; for the heart of woman — 
 
 is like the youthful tree 
 
 The lightning strikes to earth ; 
 Once scathed, its bloom no more will be : 
 It knows no second birth." 
 
 The domestic news, and that of the immediate neighbour- 
 hood, had been conveyed to our hero by letters from the 
 various members of his family, during his sojourn in 
 Oxfordshire ; and his uncle had been visited by him for 
 a few days, during a temporary stop to hunting by frost. 
 Mr. Egerton had succeeded to the living of Amstead, it 
 having been presented to him by Mr. Kaby on the decease 
 of Dr. Chapman ; was married at the end of the twelve- 
 month to the second Miss Chapman ; and, having the 
 promise from Sir John Inkleton of the living of Orton, 
 on the decease of its then incumbent, far advanced in 
 years, this amiable man and sound scholar had every 
 prospect of happiness within the range of his moderate 
 desires, Keither were his expectations ill-founded. He 
 lived to see his family grow up and prosper ; and it is 
 scarcely necessary to add that he proved a treasure to his 
 parishioners ; for, independent of being an excellent 
 classical scholar, he possessed what, to be a good divine, 
 every man of that order ought to possess — namely, a 
 tolerable fund of every species of useful knowledge ; and 
 being conversant with many other branches of science 
 besides the classics and the doctrine of his own sacred 
 calling, he became generally conducive to the benefit of 
 those whose souls were committed to his care. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 A few words on summering hunters. Mr. Corbet's country and 
 men, and the finish of the season with the Atherstone. 
 
 AS may be supposed, the paddocks for summering the 
 hunters were finished by the appointed time, and 
 the orders of our young sportsman had been strictly 
 complied with in the construction of them. Each hovel 
 contained two horses, which were shut up in them at 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 245 
 
 night, as well as in the heat of the day, when wetted 
 matting was placed in the open windows, to cool the air, 
 and prevent the entrance of flies. Their hours of being 
 let loose in the small space of ground allotted to them, on 
 the outside of their hovels, were from four to eight or 
 nine in the morning, and from seven or eight to ten in 
 the evening, unless the weather was wet, when they were 
 invariably confined to their hovels. Their food was, 
 occasionally, tares or lucern, in some cases mixed with 
 their hay ; and in no instance were they allowed green 
 meat altogether for more than three or four consecutive 
 days. And another precaution was observed. The horses 
 were sorted according to the nature of their constitution — 
 those which carried much flesh being put together, and 
 vice versa, the quantity of their food being regulated 
 accordingly. In the case of two, indeed, such was their 
 aptitude to gather flesh, that, after the first month, they 
 were ridden out to exercise for at least two hours, in a cool 
 place, and on turf. Their general allowance of oats was 
 three-quarters of a peck to each horse, in the twenty -four 
 hours, a few old beans being given to two of them, who 
 were a little deficient in stamina, although the most 
 brilliant of the whole stud in a burst. Their hinder 
 shoes were taken ofi", but their fore feet were protected 
 by tips, and their toes were kept shortened, the same as 
 if they had been in work, although little was done to the 
 sole, and the frog not touched at all. Each horse, with the 
 exception of one that had thrushes, and which was under 
 a process of cure by the groom, stood in wetted clay for 
 the space of two hours daily, for the benefit of their feet 
 and legs, and some light doses of physic were administered 
 to such as exhibited symptoms of foulness. Alterative 
 powders, also, consisting of levigated antimony and 
 sulphur, were given in their corn to three who did not 
 coat well in the preceding winter, and the best effects 
 were experienced from them. The stud were put into 
 these paddocks on the 8th day of May, and taken into 
 the stables again on the 1st day of August, during which 
 time no accident of any kind occurred to them. More- 
 over, their condition was excellent ; that is to say, to 
 commence the preparation for severe work in the hunt- 
 ing season, from the firmness of their flesh in the first 
 instance ; from their not being overladen with it, to the 
 injury of their legs, in the second ; and from only a 
 
246 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 trifling diminution of muscular powers, in the third. 
 The feet of these horses also appeared very difterent to 
 what their groom had hitherto seen in those of hunters 
 previously under his care, which had run abroad for three 
 months in the summer. They were, in fact, in a more 
 perfect state than when they had left off work in the 
 spring, as far as crust and sole and frog were concerned ; 
 and, moreover, their form altogether had approached 
 nearer to the natural one, by having proper attention paid 
 to them during three months' growth. 
 
 This system of summering hunters 'having been never 
 before seen, nor even heard of, in this part of the country, 
 it excited no little surprise, and the expression of sage 
 opinions that the young Squire's hunters vvould be spoiled 
 for want of their summer's run in the park, which the 
 old Squire's hunters had always enjoyed, and those of 
 the Squire's father before him. The following dialogue 
 occurred between Mr, Robson the steward, Dick the hunts- 
 man, and Frank Eaby's groom, as they were looking at the 
 horses in the paddocks. 
 
 " Poor beasts," said the Scotchman ; " I am sorry to see 
 you shut up this way, in a prison, instead of enjoying 
 yourselves at your pleasure in the park, after the hard- 
 ships you have undergone. And " (addressing himself to 
 James^ the groom), said he, " who put all this new fashion 
 into Mr. Francis's head ? " 
 
 " Lord Sandford's groom, sir," replied James. 
 
 "And are you not sorry, James, that your master 
 listened to him ? — are you not sorry to see the poor beasts 
 shut up after this manner ? " resumed the steward. 
 
 " Indeed I am not, sir," answered James ; " for if it has 
 the same effect on these horses that it had last winter on 
 Lord Sandford's, I shall not have the trouble with them 
 next winter that I had last." 
 
 " What d'ye mean, James ? " inquired the steward. 
 
 "I mean "^ this, sir," said the groom: "I had rather 
 look after three horses in the same condition that Lord 
 Sandford's were all through the last season, from the very 
 beginning indeed, than after any two we had in our stud. 
 They were cleaned in half the time it took to clean ours 
 after hunting ; and what is more, they never broke out 
 into a cold sweat, as ours so often did, after we thought 
 we had got them quite dry and comfortable. Then I 
 used to watch them when they were going to cover, in 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 247 
 
 the morning, along Avith our liorses, especially before 
 Christmas. Ours would be in a sweat if the morning was 
 at all close, whilst my lord's would be as dry as a bone, 
 I thought to myself, sir, that this must be a great 
 advantage to these horses over ours, when they came to 
 follow the hounds through a run, as, for my own part, I 
 always feel weak after sweating much in my work. So 
 you see, sir, if it is a little hard on master's horses to 
 be pent up in those j^laces all the summer, instead of 
 galloping about and playing in the park, they get the best 
 of it in the winter, by being in so much better heart for 
 their work. Then, again, they are not tormented with 
 the flies here, as they are in the park, for I have often 
 watched the old Squire's hunters in the summer, and 
 been really sorry to see how they were plagued. It was 
 nothing but stamp, stamp, stamp, all day long. And" 
 (addressing the huntsman) "you remember, Dick, that 
 you always said your famous old mare, the Queen, would 
 not have turned roarer, nor Stumps have gone broken- 
 winded, if they had not been turned out to grass." 
 
 " I certainly did so," replied Dick, " and think so still. 
 Indeed, I am something inclined, Mr. Eobson, to be of 
 James's way of thinking as to keeping hunters in the 
 summer months. I have often said to myself, when I 
 have seen the horses I ride with the hounds galloping 
 about this park, where the ground has been as hard as a 
 barn-floor, surely I give you enough of galloping in the 
 hunting season. Then, again, they come up so fat from 
 this good land, that they never seem to me to be anything 
 like themselves till after Christmas is turned ; and, 
 moreover, when I have done with them for the season, 
 and they are stripped for turning out for the summer, 
 they appear to me to be just in proper trim." 
 
 " Well," said Mr. Eobson, " I am not one of those who 
 refuse to listen to reason ; and from what I have heard 
 from James and yourself, I am much disposed to believe 
 that this method of treating valuable hunters may be 
 better than letting them run loose in the park, that is 
 to say, as far as their condition is concerned; but the 
 expense is very great." 
 
 " One would think so," resumed James, " but master 
 says it is not. Indeed, he declares it is much the cheapest 
 plan ; and Lord Sandford's groom told me he has often 
 heard mv lord sav he considers he has saved £2000 in 
 
248 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 the five years that he has tried it in his large stud. In 
 the first place, never a summer, he said, passed over 
 before, that some accident, or indeed accidents, did not 
 happen which occasioned him to buy more horses ; and, 
 in the next, he said that, if one of the stud only were to 
 be sold at Tattersall's at the commencement of the follow- 
 ing season he would fetch as much extra price, by his 
 superior condition and appearance, as would repay the 
 expenses of summering the whole lot on this plan. In 
 fact, the groom told me he had seen my lord's own 
 calculation, which showed that, had he to pay for his 
 twelve hunters at grass for three months in the summer, 
 the diff'erence between the charge for it, and the expenses 
 of keeping them after this fashion, would not be more 
 than twenty-five or thirty pounds at furthest." 
 
 " Depend upon it, my lord is right ! " exclaimed Dick. 
 
 " Well, I think so, too," observed the Scotchman. 
 
 " 1 am quite sure of it" said the groom ; " and I am 
 also sure that no gentleman's horses in any hunt we may 
 go into next season, unless it is Lord Sandford's, and a 
 few others, belonging to some of his friends who have 
 acted on his plan, will look as ours will look ; and I have 
 reason to believe we shall be able to do with one helper 
 less in the stables." 
 
 " That will be no trifle," said the steward, and here the 
 conversation dropped. 
 
 When the next season commenced, the appearance and 
 condition of the horses fully answered the expectations of 
 our young sportsman and his groom — the latter, indeed, 
 feeling proud of them, and, of course, claiming the merit 
 to himself ; and after a fortnight's hare-hunting with his 
 father, Frank Raby and his stud made their appearance 
 in Warwickshire. But why select Warwickshire, when 
 other and more fashionable countries were at his option — 
 Leicestershire, Northamptonshire, &c. ? The answer is 
 comprised in a few words. Neither his purse nor his 
 stud was then equal to Leicestershire, in the first place ; 
 and in the next, he was strongly recommended to 
 Warwickshire, on account of the gentleman who then 
 hunted it, and the harmony and good fellowship that was 
 said to distinguish the society of that long-established 
 Hunt, and of the neighbourhood generally in which the 
 headquarters of the Hunt were established. And who 
 was the gentleman who then hunted Warwickshire, and 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 249 
 
 was considered so particularly worthy of our young 
 sportsman's notice. The justly celebrated Mr. Corbet — 
 and celebrated, not merely as a master of foxhounds and 
 a sportsman, but as possessing, to the greatest extent, the 
 manners and deportment of the highly-finished gentleman, 
 although of a school of a somewhat earlier date than the 
 period to which we now allude. But it was from a desire 
 on the part of his father and a few of his particular 
 friends, that Frank Raby should witness a specimen of 
 the school which had given to Mr. Corbet these highly- 
 finished manners and deportment, that a visit to this 
 country, in preference to any other, was urged upon 
 him. 
 
 "I see a little of it," said Mr. Raby to his son, when 
 discussing these matters, "in my own small way, as 
 master of a pack of harriers ; but, depend upon it, there 
 are not many situations in which the manners, the 
 deportment, and the temper of men are oftener called 
 forth into action, and this to public view, than when 
 placed in the trying one of master of English foxhounds. 
 First, be it remembered, it is a post of no trifling 
 eminence, and is apt to engender a little pride of place, as 
 most other situations do." 
 
 In this situation, then, as master of a pack of fox- 
 hounds, Mr. Corbet was considered a pattern-card ; and 
 as Mr. Raby had good reason to believe that, one day or 
 another, his son would be similarly placed, he was on 
 that account more anxious for his visiting Warwickshire 
 whilst Mr. Corbet,; hunted it. He was also informed that 
 there were a few very eniment sportsmen, members of 
 this Hunt, from whom some good lessons might be 
 derived. That he was not disappointed in the result, the 
 following letter from our young sportsman to his friend 
 Hargrave will pretty clearly show : — 
 
 "Stratford-upon-Avon, Dec, 9. 
 "Dear Hargrave, — I am delighted with all I have 
 hitherto seen in Warwickshire. Although there are a 
 few rough fixtures in it, it is, taken altogether, a right 
 good fox-hunting country, and as full of foxes as it can 
 hold. Indeed, they say here that the life of a fox is 
 quite as safe from the gun of the poacher or farmer, as 
 the life of a man is from the hand of the assassin. And 
 I do not marvel at this. Old Corbet, as he is called, is 
 
250 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 the most proper man I have ever yet seen as a master of 
 foxhounds, and as such, of course, popular amongst all 
 descriptions of persons. The farmers, indeed, apj^ear to 
 adore him (as they generally do a really well-bred 
 gentleman, which Mr. G. is), and the gentlemen love and 
 respect him. He is also a good sportsman, and a perfect 
 enthusiast when his hounds are in chase, although, strange 
 to say, he will not ride over anything approaching to a 
 large fence. How he gets on as he does — for he is 
 generally pretty near at the end of the run — I cannot 
 imagine, unless it be by his intimate knowledge of the 
 country, as well as of the line foxes generally take, and 
 the speed and goodness of his horses, which are first-rate. 
 His huntsman. Will Burrows, is my delight. He is a 
 sulky -looking fellow, and I believe his looks do not belie 
 him ; but it is when his hounds are running that he 
 excites my admiration. In the first place, he is a beautiful 
 horseman ; in the next, his jjtpe is the clearest and most 
 melodious you ever heard. Then, to hear him cheer his 
 hounds, — the bitches, especially, which are his favourites 
 — transports one. He finishes his thrilling halloo, which 
 he ever and anon encourages them with, even when going 
 their best pace, with — ^ Have at him, my lasses, and stick 
 to him till he dies.' But as to his never being many 
 yards from his lasses, who can wonder at that, seeing the 
 cattle he rides ? He has four slapping nags, able to carry 
 fourteen stone, whereas his weight with his saddle does 
 not exceed eleven. And a word or two about his horses, 
 not a bad hint for us who hope one day or another to 
 keep foxhounds. All Mr. Corbet's horses, with the 
 excejotion of those he himself breeds, are purchased, at 
 weaning time, from his tenants or the neighbouring 
 farmers. He thus has not only a great choice, but has 
 the advantage of having all geldings, and no mares, in his 
 stables. I understand the price he gives is, generally, 
 about twenty pounds, which, reckoning good keep for the 
 next four years, puts excellent five-year-olds into his stud 
 at about eighty pounds, which no doubt is cheaper than 
 purchasing them — all risks included. 
 
 "Mr. Corbet's hounds are, in my opinion, very good, 
 but his blood does not, I believe, rank quite so high as 
 that of some other kennels. They say he has done 
 mischief — causing a certain degree of slackness — by 
 breeding too much in-and-in, or from one particular sort. 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 251 
 
 This has given him the somewhat classic title of the 
 Father of the Trojans, and the foundation of it is this. 
 Many years back, when he hunted another country, his 
 hounds came to a check at the wall of a gentleman's park. 
 The scent appeared to be lost, when one hound, called 
 Trojan, was seen carrying it along the top of the wall, on 
 which the fox had run, and thus baffled his pursuers for 
 a time. This was the distinguishing characteristic of the 
 hound alluded to ; and his after-performances being on a 
 I^ar with it, be became not only the favourite stud-hound 
 in the kennel, but nearly the founder of an entire pack, 
 in which the parent cross was carried too far. As i^ro- 
 fessed judges entertain this opinion of Mr. C.'s hounds, 
 it would ill become me to dispute it ; but this I will say, 
 that, as far as I have seen them in the field, I can find 
 very little to condemn. The newly prevailing fashion 
 of dividing the sexes is adopted in the field, and the 
 character of the two packs is that, although under very 
 adverse circumstances the dogs may be the most efiicient, 
 the bitches are more brilliant with a straight- running fox 
 and a good scent. Of the country, as I have already said, 
 there is good and indifterent — none very bad, but the 
 good greatly prevails ; and by way of giving you an idea 
 of the part esteemed indifterent, I must tell you that 
 I saw a run, last week, from one of the covers in it, 
 called Farnliorough, of twelve miles, in which we only 
 crossed one ploughed field ! On the other hand, on the 
 Northamptonshire side of the country, there is as fine a 
 grazing district as is to be seen in Leicestershire or 
 Northamptonshire. Then there is another country, called 
 the Meriden country, which these hounds hunt for two 
 periods in the year, and we have just been staying at 
 Meriden, on the high road from Coventry to London, 
 where the kennel is, and whence it is called the Meriden 
 country. The covers are large and frequent, and it is 
 altogether very unlike the Stratford country ; but, speak- 
 ing as a sportsman, I cannot withhold my praise of it. 
 It is a fine, wild, fox-hunting-looking country, in which 
 the foxes are so good that they seldom hang at all in the 
 covers, which are, for the most part, well cut into rides, 
 and we have been having very good sjDort in it. But it 
 being better calculated for spring-hunting, when travelling 
 foxes are to be met with, I anticipate a great treat on our 
 next visit to Meriden. 
 
^52 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 " I have been elected a member of the Stratford Hunt 
 -Club, wliich dine together every day, at the head inn in the 
 lown, the room in which they dine being honoured with 
 •the title of one of Shakspeare's plays. Mr. Corbet gives us 
 his company every Thursday, when numerous visitors are 
 -added to our party, and he generally gives us a dinner at 
 his house once in the course of the week. AVe have great 
 fun in the ' Tempest,' for that is the name of our room ; 
 but beyond a bottle of claret, and the wine drunk at 
 •^dinner, nothing like excess is committed. Great part of 
 ■the 'fun' proceeds from handicapping our horses, and 
 sporting our hands when the award is made ; but beyond 
 a, few pounds hazarded in this way, and five or ten pounds 
 •on a rubber at whist, nothing like gambling is practised 
 ■in the ' Tempest,' But perhaps the most interesting part 
 •of my letter may be a description of some of the leading 
 •members of this celebrated hunt. First, then, let me tell 
 ;you, there are two brothers, by the name of Cannons, 
 Warwickshire men, who are absolute prodigies in the 
 •field, the j^ounger one especially, whose name is Robert. 
 'The elder rides, at least, seventeen stone and a half, and 
 Robert sixteen stone ; notwithstanding which, not a light- 
 weight in the country can beat them ; in fact, Robert is 
 decidedly the best man in the hunt, let the pace or the 
 country be what it may. But what surprises me is, in 
 the first place, the extraordinary sort of eagle-eye this man 
 — I mean the younger Cannons — has to a country, when 
 making his way over it with hounds, and also when re- 
 iturning home after hunting, when he may be called the 
 •oracle of the field. ' Which is the best way ? ' says one. 
 •* Ask Robert Cannons,' is the answer invariably given. 
 "Then his coolness, when hounds are running, also 
 .•astonishes me. He never appears to be in a hurry, much 
 less in a flutter ; and I have already derived more instruc- 
 tion from seeing him ride to hounds than I have hitherto 
 •derived from all former experience. And, added to all 
 these good qualities, as a horseman in the field, he has 
 the most beautiful and light hand on his horse I have 
 ever yet beheld; he never is seen quarrelling with, or 
 molesting him in any way, but, as though they were 
 incorporated with each other, they go sailing along, like 
 a ship before the wind, and very nearly as straight. In 
 fact, few fences can stop this fine sportsman — for such he 
 likewise is — by reason of the weight of metal himself and 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 25;^ 
 
 his horses oppose to them ; and it is astonishing how few 
 falls he gets, taking the season throughout, in which lie- 
 never misses a day at the cover side. Nor is it only in. 
 Warwickshire that he shines. I was told that, one day 
 last season, he was quite a leading man in a severe burst 
 over Leicestershire with the Cottesmore hounds, although 
 he got a very indifferent start. He is, of course, well 
 mounted, and is occasionally offered immense prices for 
 his horses, which, however, he generally declines. He 
 has now two horses — the Conqueror and Knowsley, the 
 latter an entire horse — for which I would willingly 
 give him 1000 guineas, could I conveniently spare the 
 money. But as I have taken upon myself to sketch the 
 characters of these gentlemen, I must not stop at their 
 mere accomplishments in the field. They are all that 
 is amiable and delightful in private life, and their 
 hospitality has no bounds. For instance, it was only last 
 week that I myself made one of a dozen sportsmen — ten, 
 in scarlet, and two in black coats — that turned out each, 
 morning, equipped for the field, having been domiciled 
 under their roof for a week, and fed with the best of 
 everything. 
 
 "We have likewise two very celebrated sportsmen in 
 this country, whose names stand high in Leicestershire ; 
 namely, John Halls and John Lockwood. The former is 
 one of the very best of the gentlemen jockeys at Bibury, 
 and the latter remarkable for the high prices for which 
 he has sold his horses, after distinguishing themselves 
 under his weight — upwards of fourteen stone. A short 
 time back he sold one, called Faith, for 750 guineas, in 
 consequence of his having been the only one that could 
 live with the hounds over Newbold Field, and leap a 
 large fence into Lord Northampton's park afterwards. 
 So anxious was the gentleman who purchased him to 
 possess himself of such a treasure, that he sent an express 
 off, in the night of the day on which the circumstance 
 occurred, to make an offer of the money, in case another 
 customer should be before him. Newbold Field is 
 certainly one of the most distressing pieces of ground 
 that I ever rode over, and Faith must be, as he has the 
 appearance of being, a most superior horse to have crossed 
 it on the day I allude to, when it was in a very tender 
 state, and very highly ridged. 
 
 " There is a very gentleman-like young man hunting 
 
254 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 with us here — indeed, he resides Mdthin the limits of the 
 hunt — who has introduced a somewhat novel^style of seat on 
 his horse, which, although perhaps he may carry it to an 
 extreme, appears to succeed with him, and will, no doubt, 
 induce many to follow his example, to a certain extent. 
 I allude to the increased length of stirrup-leather which 
 this man, whose name is Welch Posten, allows himself, 
 •extending almost beyond that used by the military, or in 
 the manege. It is likewise worthy of notice, that, although 
 his height is nearly six feet, he rides two mares neither 
 of which are fifteen hands high, but which are very 
 difficult to beat with their owner on their backs. I am 
 told he gave 400 guineas for them, and they are well 
 worth the money, being very accomplished fencers, and 
 nearly thorough-bred. You have often heard me say 
 that I thought both you and myself used stirrup-leathers 
 of not sufficient length ; and the case I now allude to 
 confirms me in that opinion, so much so that I have 
 dropped my stirrups at least three holes. I am convinced 
 that I sit easier on my horse by having my weight placed 
 near to the shoulder, on that part, indeed, M'hich is the 
 point of union in the horse, instead of near to the loins, 
 which are the weakest part of his frame. 
 
 ''But speaking of extraordinary men in our line, I 
 must say a word of one in this hunt, whose equal, perhaps, 
 is nowhere else to be found. His name is Stibbs, and 
 60 inveterate a lover of the chase is he, that he is not 
 ■contented with hunting with Mr. Corbet's foxhounds four 
 days a week, which is the number of their hunting days, 
 with a bye one occasionally, but he absolutely keeps a 
 pack of harriers, to hunt the other two. The climax, 
 however, is yet to come. On being informed, one Sunday 
 morning, that a fox which had been brought to him over 
 night, had escaped from the place in which it was 
 •confined, he ordered horses to be saddled for himself and 
 his man, and letting out his hounds, laid them on the 
 scent of the fugitive, and killed him after a sharp burst ! 
 This very extraordinary man never misses a day in the 
 season ; he knows hunting well, and is rapturously fond 
 of it, but, being shy of fences, sees very little of a run ; 
 nevertheless, by an intimate knowledge of the country, 
 like his friend Mr. Corbet, he generally apj>ears shortly 
 .after the chase is finished, be it never so good, 
 
 " One of the bright features in this hunt is a ball and 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 255 
 
 supper, given annually to the ladies and gentlemen of the 
 neighbourhood, at the sole expense of the members of it. 
 That for^this year took place last week, and certainly was 
 one of the best I ever witnessed out of London. How- 
 ever, a description of such matters is not much in my 
 line, neither do I suppose it would be very interesting to 
 you ; still, as I know you like a neat effusion of the lyric 
 muse, and especially when she sings of the chase, I will 
 transcribe a song that was made for the occasion by the 
 Kev. T. Willy, and sung by him after supper, with the 
 very best effect : — 
 
 ' The triumphs of heroes let others declare, 
 Or in ecstasy sing of the charms of the fair ; 
 
 Of love, or of war, may the verse freely flow ! 
 Let the glass aid the song, while those pleasures I trace 
 Those enlivening joys which arise from the chase. 
 
 Tallyho ! tallyho ! — see the well-chosen 
 
 Pack, how they gallantly go ! 
 
 A southerly wind, and light clouds in the sky, 
 The air mild and fresh, nerves and spirits all high, 
 
 Tallyho ! tallyho ! to the cover we go : 
 Hark ! Reveller's speaking — By heavens ! 'tis good, 
 Get forward, and cheer them well out of the wood. 
 
 Tallyho ! tallyho ! — see the well-chosen 
 
 Pack, how together they go ! 
 
 Erect in his stirrups, with listening eye, 
 The master is catching at Batchelor's cry ; 
 
 Tallyho ! tallyho ! — all seem eager to go. 
 Restrain your wild ardour, as yet, within bounds, 
 And wait to ride after, not over, the hounds. 
 
 Tallyho ! tallyho ! — see the well-chosen 
 
 Pack, how together they go ! 
 
 With eye beaming cunning, and light-tripping pace. 
 See the fox steals away — hear the pack in full chase: 
 
 Tallyho ! tallyho ! — how together they go ! 
 Hold hard, for a moment, and give them fair play : 
 You'll all want your top-speed, if they once get away. 
 
 Tallyho ! tallyho ! — see together they go. 
 
 How some, fairly mounted, go striding along, 
 While others hard labour with bit, steel, and thong: 
 
 Tallyho ! tallyho ! — how they struggle to go ! 
 Hold hard ! is the word, but I strongly suspect, 
 l^ot the hounds, but some horses are brought to a check. 
 
 Tallyho ! tallyho ! — how they gallantly go ! 
 
256 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 Yon fence seems a tickler — get on to the charge ; 
 
 See the ground, appears sound, though the ditch may be large ; 
 
 Tallyho ! tallyho !— get forward, sir, go. 
 One tops it, one baulks it, and, craning, turns round, 
 While a third quits his seat for a seat on the ground. 
 
 Tallyho ! tallyho ! — how together they go ! 
 
 For a moment a sheep-foil now baffles the scent. 
 
 See them stooping and questing — each tries where he went; 
 
 Tallyho ! tallyho ! — how they cautiously go ! 
 Old Trojan has hit it— no doubt can remain ; 
 Not a moment is lost — they're together again. 
 
 Tallyho ! tallyho ! — how they gallantly go ! 
 
 Now mark, in the valley, how motley the scene ; 
 Here men want their horses — here horses want men : 
 
 Tallyho ! tallj^ho ! — very few seem to go ! 
 One loses a shoe, and another votes lame ; 
 Who is that in the brook ? — Oh ! ask not his name. 
 
 Tallyho ! tallyho !— how together they go ! 
 
 Once more, wet and weary, poor Keynard is view'd ; 
 By few, save the pack, any longer pursued ; 
 
 Tallyho ! tallyho ! — they are good ones that go ! 
 Nor pluck, speed, nor cunning, the chase can prolong ; 
 Who-whoop ! is the word, and who-whoop to my song. 
 
 Tallyho ! tallyho ! — may the Warwickshire 
 
 Pack ever gallantly go.' 
 
 " Now, my dear Hargrave, I think I have told you 
 nearly all that can interest you respecting this part of 
 Warwickshire, which I strongly recommend you to visit 
 next season. I think you will agree with me, that it is 
 one which cannot fail to show sport, with a good pack of 
 hounds, which those that now hunt it really are ; and 
 it is not very difficult to ride over. Your horses are, 
 no doubt, good timber and brick jumpers, as you have 
 lenty of that work in Essex ; but, when you come into 
 
 arwickshire, you must expect a few falls, until your 
 horses learn to extend themselves in their leaps more than 
 what is required in Essex, many of the Warwickshire 
 fences being composed of either a strong blackthorn 
 hedge, or a tiight of rails, with a wide ditch to boot, which, 
 if it happen to be on the landing side, acts as a trap to 
 your nag, unless he be prepared for it, by extending 
 himself in his leap. There are not many double fences ; 
 less, I think, than in any other country in which I have 
 hunted ; but unless a horse can go well in dirt, he has 
 
 pie 
 W 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 257 
 
 no business in "Warwickshire, for some part of it is 
 infernally deep, especially on the breaking up of a frost. 
 I saw every horse blown to a standstill in twelve minutes, 
 the other day, in the neighbourhood of Southon, which is 
 the deepest part of any. It was a ridiculous scene, when 
 about a dozen of us came to a low gate, which none of 
 our horses had the power to leap. Robert Cannons at last 
 crammed his horse through it, and so released us from our 
 prison ; for there was no other way of getting out of the 
 field, from the immense height and strength of the fence. 
 In the Meriden country your horses will excel, because the 
 fences there are, for the most part, placed on a bank, and 
 not planted on the ground, as in the Stratford. I am 
 going to finish the season in the Atherstone country, 
 from whence you may hear from me again. In the 
 meantime believe me, dear Hargrave, truly yours to 
 the end, 
 
 "Francis Raby." 
 
 No small degree of interest was excited in the breast of 
 our young sportsman on his arrival in the Atherstone 
 country, by reason of the high character he had heard of 
 the nobleman who then hunted it, and also of his hunts- 
 man, who had the reputation of being one of the best at 
 that time of his class. The former was the amiable Lord 
 Varney ; the latter, the civil and unpresuming Sam 
 Lawton, as clever a huntsman as ever hallooed to a hound, 
 and equally good in the saddle. The hunt was dis- 
 tinguished as being composed of a select number of 
 gentlemen, of high character in their calling, and every- 
 thing in Lord Varney's hunt was conducted with a pro- 
 priety and respectability that left nothing to be wished 
 for by the members of it, or by those who occasionally 
 joined it. 
 
 The Atherstone country is soon described. On the 
 Staffordshire side it is woodland, and bad for scent ; on 
 those of Derbyshire and Leicestershire, very good indeed. 
 In fact, from Burbage Wood, or Tooley Park, or Bosworth, 
 a run may be seen over as fine a country as even a Melton 
 man would desire. And the mention of a Melton man 
 reminds me that I may as well at once transcribe the 
 first letter from Frank Raby to his friend Hargrave, 
 inasmuch as, amongst other matters, it has reference to 
 the doings of Melton men, in conjunction with those 
 
 17 
 
258 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 of some of the conspicuous characters of Lord Varney's 
 hunt. 
 
 "Atherstoxe, Feb. 2. 
 
 " Dear Hargraye, — According to promise, I report 
 progress in this country, as it is my intention to do of 
 others which I may visit, to the end that, when you are 
 able to break loose from your trammels (but mind me, 
 Hargrave, I commend you for complying with the wishes 
 of your excellent father, and confining yourself to Essex, 
 so long as he continues to express them, for he is deserv- 
 ing of everything at your hands), you may also visit such 
 as I recommend, and eschew such as are not worthy of 
 your notice. 
 
 " In the first place, you will be greatly pleased with the 
 noble master of the pack. He has all those mild and 
 amiable features in his character and deportment which dis- 
 tinguish the English gentleman, together with as much of 
 the consciousness of superiority in society which, in courtesy, 
 we accede to the English nobleman. He is also as much 
 of a sportsman as it is necessary that a master of foxhounds 
 should be who employs an experienced huntsman; but 
 in this respect, his brother, the parson, is allowed to stand 
 before him. As for his huntsman, I am delighted with 
 him, considering him to be everything that a huntsman 
 should be ; and when I tell you that 1000 guineas were 
 offered, the other day, for three of the horses which he 
 rides with the hounds, I will leave you to guess how he 
 is mounted. His first whipper-in, also (Harry Jackson), 
 is a very clever fellow, and by the appearance of the 
 pack, by the cover side, there must be a good man in 
 the kennel. 
 
 " There are several very superior horsemen, as well as 
 sportsmen, members of this hunt — both heavy and light 
 weights. Among the former, indeed, there is one — namely, 
 Mr. Boltaby — who treads hard on the heels of the extra- 
 ordinary performer I spoke of with the Warwickshire 
 hounds, inasmuch as he is always in a good place in a 
 run, although not nearly so well mounted as the hero of 
 the ' Warwickshire lads.' Among the latter is what may 
 be called a rara avis in the land. He is a tanner of hides 
 by trade, and resides in the town of Nuneaton ; and 
 neither himself nor his mare — also a rara avis of her kind 
 — have pretensions nearly equal to their merits. In the 
 first place, he is a very small person ; and, in the next, 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 259 
 
 his mare is of equally diminutive size ; nevertheless, there 
 not only is not a man in the Atherstone Hunt that can 
 beat the tanner on his good little mare, but, strange to 
 say, he has gone out two or three times with the Quorn 
 hounds, in their strongest country, and been amongst the 
 foremost men in the held. In fact, so annoyed was one 
 celebrated character in that hunt, at the presence of the 
 tanner and his mare, following him as though they had 
 been his shadow, and over ever}^ description of fence, 
 that he was at length heard to exclaim, ' Xow I'll break 
 
 his d d neck.' But the neck of the tanner was 
 
 spared, perhaps, by a fortunate occurrence. The cele- 
 brated character I allude to, mounted, perhajjs, on one 
 of the best horses in Leicestershire, rode at some timber, 
 a foot or more higher than the little mare's back ; but, 
 breaking the topmost rail, the tanner and his mare 
 followed him. But his history does not rest here. Being 
 invariably clad in a light green jacket, he has obtained 
 the sobriquet of the Paroqueet, to which his flying 
 propensities — for no man goes faster after hounds, or 
 gets over higher fences — have sufficiently established his 
 title. At all events, he is a gallant little fellow, and 
 his good little mare may well be said to be nearly worth 
 her weight in gold. 
 
 " To describe a run with hounds is so difficult a task — 
 at least, when justice is to be done to the subject — that I 
 am almost afraid to attempt it ; nevertheless, I cannot 
 resist giving you a short account of one we had last week, 
 attended with some peculiarly interesting circumstances. 
 In the first place, 1 must tell you, that the imiform 
 colour — if I may so express myself — of the Atherstone 
 Hunt is orange, whereas, you know, that the Quorn men 
 all ride in scarlet. Next, it being kno^Ti that a number 
 of the Quornites, as Dick Knight called them, had 
 signified their intention of being out with Lord Vernon's 
 hounds, on Tuesday last, at Bosworth, a report had gone 
 abroad, that, should a good fox be found, there would 
 be a sort of contest for the brush — more properly speak- 
 ing, for superiority of horsemanship and nerve — between 
 the men in orange and the men in red. This actually 
 took place ; but, my good fellow, Hargrave, how can I 
 find words that will convey to you even a faint descrip- 
 tion of the interesting scene ? An epicure cannot judge 
 of a dish of meat by the palate of another ; a musician 
 
26o THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 must hear the concert he presumes to criticise ; in fact, 
 we can do nothing of this sort hy proxy. It is not that 
 tlie subject is poor, but that my language is incompetent. 
 However, let me try what I can do. 
 
 " The fixture was Bosworth — on the very ground on 
 which Richard III. lost both his crown and his life ; and 
 the field was unusually large for this part of the world, 
 consisting of at least 150 horsemen, amongst whom were 
 about a score of the Quornites on their very best nags. 
 They were easily distinguished, first, by the colour of 
 their coat — for, until I saw them together, I was not 
 aware of the strong contrast between the orange and the 
 red ; and next by the superior form and condition of 
 their horses over the generality of those of our party. 
 Amongst them, I particularly noticed Sir Henry Peyton's 
 Watchmaker, a superb horse, the same that you see in 
 the ' Sporting Magazine,' where he is represented clearing 
 a stile and brook with Sir Henry, and setting the whole 
 field. Then there was Mr. Lindon on his famous horse 
 The Clipper, and the celebrated Tom Smith on Jack-o'- 
 Lantern, by Meteor, out of a sister to Tickletoby, said to 
 be the two best horses in Leicestershire. And amongst 
 them were Sir Stephen Glynne and Lord Foley, who are 
 domiciled at Mountsorrel, in the same house with Sir 
 Henry Peyton ; and I noticed George Germaine, Parson 
 Bennett, Forester, cum multis aliis unknown to you, but 
 all first-raters. Then there was John Raven, Meynell's 
 old huntsman, but now Lord Sefton's, who came to witness 
 the events of this day. And this reminds me that Lord 
 Sefton himself was in the field with two of the finest 
 horses I ever saw in my life. He calls one Plato, and 
 the other Rowland, and they cost him no less than 1800 
 guineas. Then their condition was splendid. You are 
 aware that it:was in consequence of my conversation with 
 his groom, that I kept my horses last summer in the house, 
 and have determined upon never again turning them to 
 grass. 
 
 "As you may suppose, we made the best turn-out 
 in our power, on this day, from this side the coun- 
 try, and a most respectable appearance we cut. Sam 
 Lawley had a picked pack for the occasion, and was 
 mounted on his best horse, John -o'- Gaunt, one of the 
 three for which 1000 guineas were oflfered. We all, 
 indeed, skimmed the cream of our studs, myself upon 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 261 
 
 Topthorn, whose condition was much admired. But now 
 to iDusiness : — 
 
 " We found in the first cover we drew, and the fox 
 went boldlv away at once ; and, by the quickness of Sam 
 Lawley and his whips, the hounds came out in a body. 
 * But they were pressed upon, and ridden over,' methinks 
 I hear you say. Not a bit of it. They had sportsmen 
 to deal with, who gave them fair play. But the esprit de 
 corps, you will assure me, or, in other words, jealousy, 
 must have operated to their disadvantage. This I also 
 disclaim on the part of the whole field ; at least, I saw 
 nothing like it; but every man's object was merely to 
 live with the hounds, which was as much indeed as they 
 could do, for the pace was desperately quick. And the 
 hounds got an advantage in the first five minutes, and a 
 great one it was. A brook — the very brook, I believe, in 
 which the mangled remains of Eichard were thrown, and 
 which, even to this day, the country people believe to be 
 tinged with blood — and a small ozier-bed very soon pre- 
 sented themselves, and somewhat checked our career, as 
 the horses did not like them — perhaps they smelled the 
 blood, though I should rather say, the bog. However, 
 all in the same line with myself got well over, Peyton, 
 on Watchmaker, being the first. The pace now became 
 awful, as we had ground to make up, and those near the 
 hounds could, without any difficulty, be distinguished. 
 There were about an equal number of orange and red, 
 neither appearing to me to prevail. I am speaking of 
 the first twelve minutes. It was now that a trifling 
 superiority was exhibited amongst those who, with 
 myself, were on the left of the hounds. A large timber 
 fence presented itself, high and stiff, and on the other 
 side was a green lane, the sides of which were covered 
 with gorse, so as to render it impossible to see what kind 
 of ground the said gorse concealed. It was, however, 
 evident that it was of a very uneven description, together 
 with the certainty that, from what could be seen in the 
 middle of it, the entire lane was cut up by deep waggon 
 ruts, and, moreover, the drop into it was considerable. 
 Eleven of us, then in front, came up to this fence, but 
 not one of us liked it. The twelfth was Lord Foley, on 
 a thorough-bred horse, which had been one of the best 
 plate horses of his day, and, without pulling him out of 
 his stroke, at it he went ; and although he floundered 
 
262 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 a little on landing, lie kept his legs, and went on. Here 
 tlie red liad it, for Lord Foley got the lead, although 
 there were a few on the right who were nearly on as good 
 terms as his Lordship was. It was gallantly done, how- 
 ever, and due praise was given both to the rider and his 
 horse. We all got over this fence, but could not catch 
 Foley till we came to the first check. And how were 
 matters here ? Why, strange to say, there were seventeen 
 of one hunt, and fifteen of the other, well up, but the 
 majority were in orange. ' How is this ? ' inc^uired one, 
 who was becoming somewhat sanguine on the occasion. 
 ' They knew of a better place than we did, over the brook 
 and across the ozier-bed,' replied one of the coideurderose, 
 'but they ride devilish well.' 
 
 " The science of Sam Lawley, whose eye had been on 
 his hounds when they checked, soon put matters to rights, 
 and before many of the stragglers had come up, we were 
 all at work again. But to make short of my story, as far 
 as the run is concerned. Our fox led us over a beautiful 
 country ; and, within two fields of Aylestone gorse, on the 
 other side the road leading from Leicester to Lutterworth, 
 we ran into him in the middle of a large field — distance 
 about twelve miles as the crow flies. ' And who saw the 
 finish 1 ' I think I hear you eagerly exclaim. Not many, 
 for the pace had been severe from first to last ; and the 
 fox went so straight, that few chances were given to 
 those who looked out for a nick. But the colours of 
 the coats I You will be equally curious on this point. 
 I will soon satisfy your curiosity. There were eleven 
 Quornites and eight Yernonites well with them at the 
 end, and about an equal number of each — say a dozen 
 or fifteen — in not a bad place. Fine horsemanship was 
 displayed on each side ; and it struck me that the 
 Quornites had the best of it towards the finish, by the 
 superiority of their horses, and the condition of them, for, 
 until the last three miles, the orange and red appeared 
 to me, and to others, to be, as nearly as we could guess, 
 equal. 
 
 " I only regret that you did not see the run, which was 
 a splendid one from first to last, and I strongly re- 
 commend you to the Atherstone country. And I also 
 recommend you to see another pack kept in this part of 
 the country, more for the sake of the honour of them, 
 than for their performances in the field. I allude to Mr. 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 263 
 
 Adderley, who is one of the breed of English country 
 gentlemen of the old school — most polite, most unaflacted, 
 most modest, most humane, perhaps, of his order ; but 
 the most unlikely person to be at the head of a pack of 
 foxhounds that England or any other country can produce. 
 By-the-bye, I will tell you no bad anecdote respecting 
 him, which I had from his own lips. Being in want of a 
 huntsman, one of the most celebrated of the present day 
 happening at that time to be out of place, offered his 
 services, and was engaged. He arrived on a Saturday 
 night on his hack, with a small pair of saddle-bags under 
 him, leaving his luggage to follow him per coach. The 
 following morning he was desired to feed his hounds at 
 nine o'clock, as Mr. Adderley rec[uired that all his servants 
 should attend both morning and evening church. The 
 huntsman obe3'ed orders to the very letter, and behaved 
 remarkably well in church. At nine o'clock at night the 
 bell rang for family prayers, at which Mr. Shaw (for 
 such was his name) conducted himself with becoming 
 reverence. But when Monday morning arrived, where 
 was Mr. Shaw ? He was not to be found, having put 
 his saddle-bags under him, on his hack, and trotted 
 quietly off — leaving word that 'he thought he was 
 hired to hunt a pack of foxhounds, but finding that 
 his chief occupation was to _2Jrai/, he begged to resign his 
 situation to one who was better qualified for the office 
 than himself.' 
 
 " I must now conclude. These long letters will make 
 you imagine, with Mr. Shaw, that my chief occupation is 
 not hunting, but writing ; I, therefore, bid you, for the 
 present, adieu. 
 
 "Francis Eabt." 
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 The death of Mr. Beaumont Raby, and the installation of the hero 
 into a regular sporting establishment, the details of which are 
 given at some length. 
 
 OX the day following the date of this epistle, our hero 
 received a letter from his father, informing him of the 
 dangerous situation in which his uncle's life was placed^ 
 
264 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 by an accident that occurred to him as he was stepping 
 into his carriage to go to the opera. The extent of it was 
 a mere simple fracture of the left leg, which, had it 
 happened to his brother, instead of himself, would have 
 shortly yielded to common medical treatment ; but it was 
 not so with the indolent and highly fed Mr. Beaumont 
 Raby. Unpleasant symptoms appeared about the fifth 
 day ; and by the time his nephew arrived in London, 
 having been sent for by express, at the earnest desire 
 of the suflerer, he was considered to be beyond the 
 reach of all human aid. Moreover, he was himself 
 aware that his hour was near at hand ; but, having a 
 perfect command over his intellectual faculties, he thus 
 addressed his nephew, at the second interview between 
 them : — 
 
 " Now, my dear Frank, having recovered myself from 
 the emotion which your presence occasioned, ' Richard is 
 himself again.' Draw a chair towards my bed, and not 
 only hear, but mark what I am about to say. But why do 
 you weep, my dear boy % If tears were becoming, they 
 should fall from me, inasmuch as I have reason to believe 
 I am about to quit a world with which I have no small 
 cause to be satisfied, and I should be a hypocrite to say 
 I shall not leave it with regret. But shall we receive 
 good, and shall we not receive evil ? Vain hope ! and 
 such I now find it. I have, however, one consolation in 
 this evil hour, and that is — in the station I now hold in 
 society being about to be filled by yourself. You will 
 succeed to all I possess, beyond a few legacies to friends, 
 and annuities for their lives to old and faithful servants ; 
 and I pray to God, that you may make a better use of the 
 means at your command than I myself have done. But 
 he who tastes nothing but the sweet poison of prosperity, 
 which hitherto has been my case " 
 
 Here the feelings of the sufi'erer overcame him, and, 
 concealing his brow with his hand, he remained silent for 
 a short time ; but having recovered his self-possession thus 
 continued to speak : — 
 
 " I am weak, my dear Frank, as you must perceive ; but 
 let us look on a brighter picture. In addition to what you 
 will receive from me, you may one day inherit the large 
 possessions of your father. Endeavour, then, to tread in 
 his steps, rather than in mine. The reigning error of my 
 life has been the mistaking the love for the practice of 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 265 
 
 virtue, and being the friend of goodness, rather than a 
 good man. In your father, the union is accomplished ; 
 and whilst I have been amusing myself with a phantom of 
 happiness which has been always dancing before my eyes 
 — turning them, alas ! from the light of Eeason which 
 would have discovered the illusion, and shown me what, 
 perhaps, I never wished to see, my own real case — he has 
 possessed himself of the reality, by fulfilling every duty 
 incumbent upon an English gentleman, and, I may safely 
 add, the Christian. Compared with his then, mine has 
 been a solitary, a barren, and a cheerless existence, and 
 my name will be forgotten ere my remains are cold. As 
 the shadow waits on the substance, Frank, even so true 
 honour follows virtuous actions, and not merely the 
 profession of them." 
 
 The natural strength of Mr. Beaumont Kaby's consti- 
 tution had, to a certain extent, rallied after passing a 
 tranquil night, in which sleep — that vis medicatrix naturce 
 — had come to his relief ; and it was not until the eighth 
 day after this interesting conversation took place between 
 himself and his nephew, that death came to his relief — on 
 the very day, indeed, on which he had arrived at his fifty- 
 third year ! On his will being oj)ened, matters stood 
 thus : — He bequeathed £1000 to Mr. Egerton, "as a mark 
 of gratitude for his having instilled those notions of pro- 
 priety into his nephew that would not fail to benefit 
 him through life ; " £100 to one of his oldes friends and 
 the same to his brother, to purchase mourning rings ; 
 annuities of fifty pounds to three of his own servants, 
 "who had served him faithfully in their respective 
 situations ; " and the rest of his fortune, without any 
 stipulation whatever, "to his dearly beloved nephew, 
 Francis Raby, trusting that he would make a better use 
 of it than he himself had done. It consisted of £137,000, 
 in the three per cent, consols, together with a small estate 
 in Hertfordshire, of about 150 acres, on which it had 
 been his intention to have built a villa for his summer 
 residence, but the natural indolence of his character, 
 together with his love of Brighton at that period of the 
 year, had prevented his putting it into efi'ect. And 
 there was a short codicil to the will, bequeathing fifty 
 pounds a year to the poor of the parish of Amstead, for 
 ever. His remains were conveyed to the family vault at 
 Amstead ; and in the course of a few months, a plain but 
 
266 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 neat monument was erected to his memory, having the 
 following simple inscription, from the pen of his afflicted 
 brother : — 
 
 SacreD to tbe /iRemori? 
 
 OF 
 
 BEAUMONT EABY, ESQUIRE, 
 
 YOUNGEST SON OF ANDREW AND THE HONOURABLE MARTHA 
 
 ALICIA RABY, OF AMSTEAD ABBEY, IN THE COUNTY OF 
 
 LINCOLN ; WHO DEPARTED THIS LIFE ON THE THIRD OF FEBRUARY, 
 
 1803, IN THE FIFTY-THIRD YEAR OF HIS AGE. 
 
 ALL WHO KNEW HIM CAN ATTEST THAT HE WAS A MAN OF A 
 SINGULARLY MILD AND AMIABLE DISPOSITION — EVERY THOUGHT 
 AND ACT OF HIS LIFE PROCEEDING FROM THE OVERFLOWING 
 OF A WARM AND TENDER HEART. POSSESSING SOUND 
 SENSE AND PRUDENCE, JOINED WITH MUCH URBANITY 
 OF MANNERS, AS WELL AS STRICT INTEGRITY OF 
 CONDUCT, HE MIGHT HAVE QUALIFIED HIMSELF 
 FOR THE HIGHEST OFFICES OF SOCIETY: 
 BUT HIS ATTACHMENT TO LITERARY PURSUITS, COUPLED WITH A 
 DESIRE FOR RETIREMENT AND EASE, WHICH HE WANTED 
 RESOLUTION TO COMBAT, CONFINED HIM TO THE 
 STATION HE HELD— THAT OF AN ACCOM- 
 PLISHED GENTLEMAN. 
 
 THIS SIMPLE MONUMENT, ACCORDING WITH THE UNPRETENDING 
 
 CHARACTER OF THE DECEASED, IS HERE PLACED BY HIS 
 
 AFFECTIONATE BROTHER, ANDREW RABY, AS THE LAST 
 
 TRIBUTE OF HIS REGARD AND LOVE FOR ONE TO 
 
 WHOM HE WAS MOST CLOSELY UNITED, NOT ONLY 
 
 BY BLOOD, BUT BY AFFECTION. 
 
 As may be supposed, the situation and views of our 
 young sportsman were materially changed by this accession 
 of wealth — for such it may be called, when devoted to the 
 purposes of merely one individual. The following three 
 years, then, find him, first, the tenant of a large mansion 
 and domain in one of the midland counties ; secondly, 
 with an increased stud, and not only of hunters, but 
 coach-horses ; thirdly, a member of Bibury and Kingscote 
 Racing Clubs, and of the B.D.C., or Benson Dri\dng 
 Club ; fourthly, with a house and fourteen-stalled stable 
 at Melton Mowbray ; and, fifthly, a member of the House 
 of Commons. Let us look, then, at his proceedings in 
 these several stations, of no small importance in our 
 eyes. 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 267 
 
 As may be imagined, the mansion he had fixed upon 
 was selected with an eye to the amusements to which he 
 was devoted, and to as much enjoyment of them as could 
 be procured for a certain given sum. Hunting is here 
 not taken into the account, our hero having satisfied 
 himself that there is only one part of England in which 
 the chase could be enjoyed to perfection, and in that he 
 did not wish to reside all the year, for more reasons than 
 one. A great object with him was good roads, which 
 Leicestershire at this period was deficient in. Another, 
 was good partridge and pheasant-shooting, to neither of 
 which were the rich pastures of the queen of all hunting 
 countries accounted favourable, from the general absence 
 of corn-fields. Our young sportsman then set himself down 
 with a clear £4700 a year at his command, in a fine old 
 mansion, whose grounds opened into the great Holyhead 
 road, which, even at that period, was one of the best in 
 England, and, from the numerous coaches running ujDon 
 it, the most interesting and amusing to a person who, like 
 our hero, is fond of the humours and proceedings of what 
 is called, " the road ; " in fact, nothing could be more to 
 his mind, during the lifetime of his father, than the place 
 we have now spoken of. As has already been stated, the 
 gates of the park opened on an excellent road ; the manor 
 sufficiently abounded with game. Foxhounds and harriers 
 were kept in the neighbourhood. There was good coursing- 
 ground in the open fields, belonging to the proj^rietor of 
 the estate ; and a river ran through the domain, affording 
 good trolling for pike, at whicli Frank Eaby had become 
 an adept by the instructions of Jack Perren, who, by the 
 permission of Mr. Eaby, was now become his keeper. But 
 the CKjremens of Farndon Hall are not yet all told. One 
 of the best female cooks that London could furnish was 
 put into his kitchen, and a good stock of the choicest 
 wines into his cellars. That he had a choice set of 
 customers for the produce of each of these essentials to 
 true epicurean enjoyment, it is scarcely necessary to make 
 apparent. 
 
 It having been on the first of May following the decease 
 of his uncle, that our hero took possession of Farndon Hall, 
 some account of his proceedings there may be looked for. 
 We will begin with him in his stable-yard, our fancy 
 directing us thither, in accordance with our own taste. 
 Of his hunters, not much can be said. Unprovided with 
 
268 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 accommodations for summering them agreeably to the j^lan 
 he had adopted in the preceding spring, and which he 
 found to answer so well, they were in their old quarters at 
 Amstead, under the care of his head groom, who had 
 nearly convinced the Scotch steward that the expenses of 
 the preceding summer had not been thrown away upon 
 them, by the superior condition of the stud, and the way 
 in which they had stood their work, without disease of 
 any kind having attacked them. Let us, then, take a peep 
 into the coach-stables. 
 
 The space of a few months, even with the aid of both 
 judgment and experience, is far too little for the selection 
 of such a stable of coach-horses as Frank Eab}^ had got 
 together, consisting of seven greys — for, like Camillus ^ of 
 old, that was his favourite colour — one black, and two 
 chestnut piebalds, which gave him two teams, and two 
 horses to spare, called, on the road, "rest horses." 
 Indeed, no man can depend on having one team out of 
 four, or two out of eight horses ; and on these matters our 
 hero had been well tutored by Sir John Inkleton. Sir 
 John, indeed, had in part assisted him in the purchase of 
 those nags, as had also a celebrated London dragsman, who 
 selected some of them out of his employer's yard, money 
 having tempted him to part with them. And, in truth, 
 there is no much better method for gentlemen to adopt, 
 in purchasing horses for their own driving, than to select 
 them from regular road work, inasmuch as, in the first 
 place, their character can be tried for goodness ; and in 
 the next, they are thoroughly broken-in to face all kinds 
 of objects they may meet — the want of which confidence, 
 in pleasure horses, is the cause of half the accidents which 
 occur. This being a period when horse-flesh was at a 
 premium, the above ten horses were considered not badly 
 bought at £900, especially so as there were three fancy- 
 coloured ones in the lot ; but had not four of them been, 
 to a slight degree, collar-marked, a larger sura would have 
 been required. Frank Raby, however, had remembered 
 the good advice his friend Sir John had given him, in 
 very young days ; and in this, as well as in most of the 
 future transactions of life, he looked to the main chance, 
 
 1 History informs us, that Camillus gave great offence to the 
 Romans, by being carried through Rome in his chariot, drawn by 
 foxir grey horses, no general, either before or since, having done the 
 same ; grey horses were then held sacred. 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 269 
 
 and endeavoured to get what is called — " the penny's- 
 worth for his penny." It would be well if all persons, 
 situated as he was situated — with the means of procuring 
 all reasonable pleasures — would observe the like rule. 
 
 But to return to the coach-stables (as those in which 
 coach-horses are kept are called, to distinguish them from 
 those used by hunters, the establishments being invariably 
 kept apart in all well-conducted arrangements) : I can do 
 nothing in illustration of them, if I may be allowed so 
 to express myself, without the assistance of some friends. 
 We will, therefore, announce to our readers the arrival of 
 the following conspicuous characters, on a week's visit 
 to our hero, who had made the most ample preparation 
 for their reception ; viz., Lord Edmonston ; Sir John 
 Inkleton ; Mr. Somerby ; Mr. Goodall ; Mr. Houghton ; 
 friend Hargrave ; and Jack Webber ; and no sooner had 
 they all assembled, and partaken of some refreshment after 
 their journey, than they walked into the stable-yard, 
 where the following conversation ensued : — ■ 
 
 Sir John. " Ah ! there is your drag, and it appears to 
 be quite the thing, or ' all-right,' as we say on the road. I 
 told you Wright and Powell would turn you out a good 
 one. What do you think of it, Jack, eh ? " 
 
 Now, before we give the answer, we must have a word 
 or two about " Jack." In consequence of his father having 
 grumbled rather more than he thought was necessary, 
 at having three times paid his debts — amounting, in 
 all, to upwards of £72,000 — the said Mr. John Webber 
 quitted the paternal roof, and went regularly to work on 
 the Brighton road for upwards of two years. A better 
 coachman, perhaps, seldom mounted a coach-box ; a more 
 popular character, with all descriptions of persons, never ; 
 but he quitted it at the earnest request of his family, and 
 was restored to society with no further blemish on his 
 character than having performed the office of a menial 
 to those vastly below him in the world. But Jack had 
 always this answer in his mouth, to anyone who reminded 
 him of this : — • 
 
 * ' Honour and shame from no condition rise ; 
 Act well your part — there all the honour lies : " — 
 
 concluding, in the more humble language of prose, with 
 declaring that he believed he could say what no other road 
 coachman in England could say ; namely, that he not only 
 
270 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 never upset his coach, but that he put every shilling he 
 received on the hill. \Ye will now give his answer, apologiz- 
 ing for this interlude : 
 
 Jack Webber. " I see very little to find fault with. The 
 box appears to sail well over your wheelers, so as to put 
 you near enough to your leaders to have them well in 
 your hand, and to give them a taste of the whip when 
 they want it ; and the axletrees and boxes seem strong 
 and good. Perha23s two inches less length of perch would 
 have made her follow better, but I daresay you have 
 plenty of strength in your harness, and she is safer on her 
 legs as she is. The foot-board is capital ; there is nothing 
 like a roomy foot-board, not slanting too much, to give a 
 man a good firm seat on his box, and full command of his 
 team. It is disgusting to see a man sitting on a coach- 
 box with his knees bent as if he were sitting on a low 
 stool." 
 
 Sir John. " I quite agree with you. Jack. The drag 
 looks like business, and, if I mistake not, belongs to a 
 very business-like fellow, for I think that our friend 
 Eaby will make a right good coachman in time." 
 
 Jack Webber. " How can he fail in being so, when one 
 Sir John Inkleton was his tutor ? " 
 
 Sir John. " Thanks for the compliment. Jack ; now let 
 us look at the horses." On entering the stable in which 
 the ten horses before mentioned stood, all as clean as they 
 could be made by the aid of four stout helpers, at the 
 expense of at least five shillings'-worth of soap, " Upon 
 my word, Frank," continued Sir John, " you have made 
 the best use of your time. Business again, — eh. Jack ? " 
 
 Jack Webber. " Good sort of stock, upon my word ; 
 plenty of strength on short legs. Ah, here's an old friend 
 of mine. I drove that black piebald for three months as 
 leader in my coach, and a cajDital leader he is." 
 
 Frank Baby. " Then why was he sold ? " 
 
 Jack Webber. "For two reasons. First, he fetched a 
 good price from a young carpet - manufacturer in the 
 Borough, who went down one day with me, and fell in 
 love with him ; secondly, he was a bad starter at one end 
 of his ground. I would never keep a bad starter, if I 
 horsed a coach. They are generally the best of cattle 
 when once off, but they alarm passengers, and get the 
 coach a bad name. That horse tAvice fell back with me, 
 and once broke the main bar." 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 271 
 
 Frank Baby. "And what did he do with the carpet- 
 manufacturer ? " 
 
 Jack Webber. " Frightened him out of his wits the first 
 time he put him to his drag." 
 
 Frank Rabij. "But did he not know he was a bad 
 starter ? " 
 
 Jack Webber. " Oh no ; he only saw him at the down 
 change, where he always went off quietly." 
 
 Hargrave. "And how happened it that he would not 
 start well at the up change ? " 
 
 Jack Webber. " We had a cruel scoundrel of a horse- 
 keeper there, who used to beat him with a broomstick, 
 because he was rather ticklish to dress. Horses have 
 better memories than we give them credit for." 
 
 Hargrave. " But why did he frighten the carpet-manu- 
 facturer, whose servants, perhaps, never beat him ? " 
 
 Jack Webber. " Why, they put him down to the bottom 
 of the bit, whereas I always drove him to the cheek. And 
 how has he been starting with you, Frank ? " 
 
 Frank Rabij. " Rather queerly, the first time, because he 
 did not like his side ; but since I have changed it, nothing 
 can be better. No one who knew anything about putting 
 horses into harness would have put such a mouth as his 
 anywhere but to the cheek. I would not take 100 guineas 
 for him." 
 
 Sir John. " I remember just such an instance as that 
 you have been relating of this horse, in a grey mare that 
 went at wheel in the Worcester mail. At Bengeworth, 
 she was very difficult to put to the coach at all ; but at 
 Worcester she would almost put herself to, and stand for 
 half an hour. She had some reason, no doubt, for her 
 dislike to Bengeworth." 
 
 • Frank Baby. " How did they manage her at the down 
 change ? " 
 
 Sir John. " ^Vllen the other three horses were put to, 
 the coachman and guard up, and the passengers all seated, 
 she was brought quickly out of the yard, with scarcely 
 time to look about her ; the leading-rein being passed 
 through her turrets, and chucked to the coachman's hand, 
 her traces were put over the roller-bolts, by two nimble 
 horse-keepers, and away she started, with a rush." 
 
 Jack Webber. " What ! not poled up ? " 
 
 Sir John. " Very seldom ; the man who brought her up 
 to her place would generally succeed in putting the pole- 
 
272 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 chain through, the ring 'of her harness, and now and then 
 hooking it ; but nine times in ten it was not hooked until 
 she had gone a mile or so, when, by easing the pace, the 
 guard was enabled to do it." 
 
 Frank Raby. "And did she never get back on the 
 splinter-bar, and kick 1 " 
 
 Sir John. " Oh no ; she was not one of that sort. All 
 she wanted was to get away with the coach from the scene 
 of her dislike, and the faster the better, for she was a 
 capital bit of stuff. Then again she was in the hands of 
 a first-rate coachman. In the hands of a spoon, she would 
 have been dangerous." 
 
 Frank Rahy. " Is he still at work ; I should like to see 
 him, if he is." 
 
 Sir John. "He is not ; he is dying from the effects of 
 hot rum-and-water." 
 
 Jack Webber. " More's the pity ; but why was not that 
 mare put before the bars, instead of at wheel ? " 
 
 Sir John. " She would not have that place, or it would 
 have been the fittest for her, no doubt. I thought she did 
 the mail harm with the public, and I told the proprietors 
 I thought so ; but she was too good to be drafted." 
 
 Jack Webber. " Well, Kaby, as far as I can see of them, 
 I think you have made no bad selection ; but further 
 cannot be said till we see them in harness, which I suppose 
 we shall to-morrow. In the meantime let us look at your 
 harness-room." 
 
 Sir John. " Well done, Frank ; all appears to be right 
 here. Two sets of road - harness for the drag ; one for 
 your chariot (for church and dinner-work, I presume) ; 
 and one set for the break. Whose work is it, for it 
 appears first-rate % " 
 
 Frank Raby. "One set of road-harness and the pair- 
 horse are from Wliippy ; the other set of the former from 
 Laurie — the two best harness-makers in London, I believe 
 — and that for the break was made in the village. I like 
 to lay out money near at home, when I can ; but there is 
 no harness fit to be looked at, of country make." 
 
 Jack Webber. " You are quite right, Kaby, and you have 
 gone to a good market. And your whips ? " 
 
 Frank Raby. " From Crowther, of course. They cost a 
 guinea each ; devilish dear, to be sure ; but they are so 
 nicely turned out. They are the only crops I could ever 
 find to stand wet weather without losing shape ; and when 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 273 
 
 the thong suits them, there is nothing like them for 
 punishing when it is wanted." 
 
 Jack Webber, " I like your pads much. They are well 
 stuffed, so as to cause no pressure on the back-bone, which 
 sets a horse wrong." 
 
 Sir John. " Exactly so ; there is a strong sympathetic 
 feeling between the back-bone and the withers, and when 
 a horse is pinched by his pad, his patience is often ex- 
 hausted, and he makes an attempt to relieve himself. 
 Being galled in the shoulder is a trifle to a pinch on the 
 back or withers ; and no doubt many a cockney's gig has 
 been kicked to pieces from this cause, of which they have 
 not been in the least conscious. I once had a proof of it. 
 I drove a horse fourteen miles in a gig ; and just as he 
 was entering on the fifteenth — without the least provoca- 
 tion that I could discern — without a whip, rein, or even a 
 fly touching him, he began to mill, and — to use a coaching 
 phrase — a sack was wanted to bring home the gig. I 
 luckily escaped, but my servant was a good deal hurt ; 
 and I found out that the cause of the disaster was the pad 
 pressing on the back-bone, which was becoming very much 
 inflamed." 
 
 Frank Rahy. " Well, I think we have seen all we can 
 see for the present ; and as the dressing-bell has rung, we 
 had better walk towards the house. I never keep dinner 
 waiting if I can avoid it, for it is unfair towards the cook ; 
 let us then " 
 
 Jack Webber. " One moment longer ! Just let me look 
 into your tool-box — a most necessary thing to keep the 
 drag moving. I should have been hung up many times 
 on those Brighton South Downs, but for mine. Let me 
 see. — Here is the screw-wrench ; wheel and spring clips ; 
 two spring shackels, with bolts and nuts ; two chains — one 
 for a trace, when wanting, and the other shorter, with a ring 
 at one end, and a hook at the other, in case of a tug giving 
 way ; but where is the little strap, with two buckles 1 " 
 
 Frank Raby. " The little strap with two buckles ; I 
 know not what you mean?" 
 
 Jack Webber. "Then you know not a very useful 
 appendage to the tool-box, inasmuch as, should any part 
 of the reins, or indeed most parts of the harness, give way, 
 it comes into use in a moment. I always carried two of 
 them in my pocket, one somewhat broader and stronger 
 than the other." 
 
 18 
 
274 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN- 
 
 Frank Rahy. "Just describe tliis strap." 
 
 Sir John. " / can do that for you, as I am never without 
 one of them in the pocket of my great-coat. It need not 
 he more than six inches long, but must have a strong 
 buckle at each end. Anything, then, in the shape of a 
 strap being broken, can be instantly made serviceable by 
 launching two holes, if none are already within reach, to 
 receive the tongues of the buckles." 
 
 Somerhy. " But, Eaby, where are the hunters ? " 
 
 Frank Eaby. " They are at Amstead, in paddocks, 
 which I had made for them last year ; but against next 
 spring I hope to have the means of summering them here, 
 under my own eye." 
 
 Hargrave. " My horses are treated after your plan this 
 summer, and I expect the greatest benefit from it, next 
 season." 
 
 Frank Rahy. " Depend upon it you will not be disap- 
 pointed. I had a remarkable proof of the superiority of 
 condition attained by it, in the course of a run in the last 
 season. We came to a check at the end of a sharp burst, 
 when some one observed — ' What a steam there was from 
 the horses ! ' ' There is no steam from mine,' said I ; 
 neither was there ; in fact he was beginning to get dry on 
 his neck." 
 
 Hargrave. " It must be a great advantage to a hunter 
 not to sweat much — or, at all events, to become soon cool ; 
 as exhaustion must be proportionably diminished." 
 
 At six o'clock precisely — there were no eight o'clock 
 dinners at this period, in the summer months, in the 
 country — our party sat down to just such a dinner as we 
 may imagine our young sportsman to have given them — 
 not of the first quality, for the chef de cuisine was wanting, 
 but such as no English gentleman could find fault with. 
 Neither were the wines in the highest order for drinking, 
 although all were excellent of their sort, time not having 
 been allowed for their recovering themselves, after their 
 transport from London and Dublin — the claret having 
 been imported from the latter city. Everything, however, 
 in the shape of liquids, that could be improved by it, was 
 iced, even to the home-brewed small beer — no very con- 
 temptible beverage to travellers who had been exposed to 
 a midsummer sun. 
 
 It was the fashion in those days to drink toasts in all 
 private parties, among sportsmen especially ; and the third 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 275 
 
 given this evening, — tliat is to say, the one following the 
 King, and fox-hunting, was — " the road ! " As may be 
 supposed, it gave rise to some conversation on the subject, 
 of which the following is the substance : — 
 
 Sir John. " Well, Frank, I must say that, from what I 
 have to-day seen of your coaching establishment, I am 
 inclined to think you will make a very good start on the 
 road — that is to say, if the cattle are to your liking." 
 
 Lord Edmonston. " I think so, too ; but you will pay 
 dear for your whistle. I understand the expenses of a 
 complete driving establishment, to the same extent as 
 yours, are calculated at £1200 a year, at least." 
 
 Sir John. " I can confirm that by my own experience. 
 Mine costs me a little more than that sum, including what 
 I give away annually to road coachmen and guards." 
 
 Lord Ednionston. " You are the Maecenas of guards and 
 coachmen, I understand, Inkleton. At all events, your 
 name is known to all that I have ever come into contact 
 with, and on all roads." 
 
 Sir John. " I do what I can for them ; I think that, 
 when they conduct themselves properly, they are a very 
 deserving set of men, and are not so well remunerated as 
 they ought to be, considering the wear and tear of life 
 inseparable from their calling, and the risks they incur of 
 accidents. I do not grudge what they get from me, 
 because I have seen much improvement amongst them, 
 on my road, from the notice I have taken of them. They 
 are aware that good conduct is their only passport to my 
 favour." 
 
 Lord Edraonston. "And is it true, Inkleton, that the 
 expenses of a stud of twelve hunters and two hacks, at 
 Melton, amount to £1200 per annum 1 " 
 
 Sir John. " As nearly so as possible — I mean the stud 
 only ; that sum extends not beyond the stable-yard ; it 
 has nothing to do with the house expenses of their owner.'"' 
 
 Goodall. " Why, Frank, £2500 a year for horses only ! 
 It will make a big hole in the £5000 a year, eh ? We 
 shall be having another journey together into the city, if 
 the Squire of Amstead lives to be as old as my father 
 is, eh?" 
 
 Frank Baby. " Thanks for the hint, Goodall, although 
 it smells a little of the sho^. But you forget that all the 
 money my poor uncle left me is at my disposal, so that if, 
 during my father's life — which I hope may be a long one 
 
276 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 — I should overshoot the mark, I must trespass a little 
 on the principal. And that won't matter much, for I 
 daresay I shall never marry. Besides, I have given 
 orders for the sale of that little estate in Hertfordshire, 
 which is only fit for a cockney ; and I daresay that, from 
 its pretty situation, and by the help of one of Robins's best 
 puffs, it will fetch £10,000. That would give me another 
 £1000 a year, as I shall sink the principal in an annuity 
 for my life. I don't mean to run in debt ; and Inkleton 
 says, if I do as he does — keep an account of my expenses, 
 and pay ready money for most of the articles consumed, 
 I shall never hurt myself. And you know I have no taste 
 for gambling." 
 
 Lord Ednionston. " Not for a little racing, Frank ? " 
 
 Frank Baby. " Why, I intend having a shy at that, as 
 we used to say at Eton ; but, having been once caught, I 
 shall be cautious." 
 
 Hargrave. " Better stick to hounds and the coach-box. 
 
 There are such a number of d d rogues on the Turf, that 
 
 I think you will do no good on that ground. Remember 
 what Fairfax told you at Christchurch. There are not 
 many better judges, I believe, than his father is, but he 
 is minus £100,000 by the Turf, which is awful to think 
 of, especially when one considers into what worthless 
 hands a great portion of it is gone." 
 
 Frank Baby. " The legs ! " 
 
 Hargrave. " Yes ; what chance would you or any other 
 gentleman have in betting with men who pay annually 
 large sums to trainers for information as to trials, &c. ? 
 A dead loss, depend on it, Frank." 
 
 Jack Webber. " I think so, too. Stick to the box and 
 the pig-skin, Frank, and don't put it in the power of 
 those fellows to ruin you first, and laugh at you afterwards, 
 as they have done by poor Raymond. I understand he 
 has lost his last shilling, and is at this time in prison." 
 
 Frank Baby. " For a heavy sum ? " 
 
 Jack Webber. " I know not for what amount, but " 
 
 Sir John. "Well, let us drop this subject, and have a 
 little coaching talk. Give us your opinion, Jack, of what 
 a coach-horse should be. You have not only a good eye 
 to shape and make, but your two years' constant work 
 must have given you an advantage over us amateurs — 
 even over one of such long standing as mine, for I have 
 been at it, now, better than eight years." 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 277 
 
 Jack Webher. "The first requisite in a coach-horse is 
 action. The second, substance, because horses draw by 
 their weight and not by the mere force of their muscles, 
 but action is necessary to perpetuate this force. Thirdly, 
 good legs and feet, with power and breeding equal to the 
 nature and length of the ground or stage on which they 
 are to work. Lastly, wind. Without good wind all the 
 other properties are of no avail in a coach-horse required 
 to go fast ; for, let its strength be what it may, it will not 
 avail much after the first five miles, if he have not good 
 wind. A good winded coach-horse will always keep up 
 his condition, because he is never distressed on any 
 reasonable length of ground. Sound legs and feet are 
 very necessary for wheel-horses, especially on hilly roads ; 
 but I have driven many a good and safe-footed bad-legged 
 leader, which has been a free worker, running well up to 
 his bit. I consider fifteen hands two inches to be the 
 best size for a horse for light coaches and quick work ; 
 but would prefer sixteen hands for heavy coaches and 
 slow work." 
 
 Frank Baby. " You have said nothing of the mouth." 
 
 Jack Webber. " Oh, we must take mouths as we find 
 them, in regular work. We like what we call ' cheek 
 horses,' when we can get them, but we manoeuvre them in 
 the best way we can, when we find them queer ; and with 
 the help of check-reins, side-reins, nose martingales, 
 curb-chain in the mouth, altering the coupling-reins, 
 and such like, we generally bring them to our hands. 
 But in regular work, mouth in a coach-horse is of not so 
 much consequence, because he is always running home, 
 and knows his ground. For gentleman's work mouth is 
 everything, on account of the turning and twisting to 
 which they are subject. Gentleman's horses should play 
 with their bits, and not be afraid of them ; and each side 
 of their mouths should be equal. When this is the case, 
 the higher their courage the safer they are to drive, 
 because, when running fearlessly up to their bits, they 
 feel every motion of their coachman's hand. Of all teams, 
 the most difficult to drive is that in which there are two 
 good and sufficientlv free workers, one slug, and a raking 
 (fretful) leader." 
 
 Sir John. " You are right. Jack ; it is a regular teazer. 
 Let us have your science on that point." 
 
 Jack Webber. " As regards the ' raker,' you shall — the 
 
278 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 science tliat was given to me by tlie best and quickest man 
 on his box that I have ever yet seen. ' Something must 
 be done,' said he, ' to keep him from killing himself. Try 
 a check-rein to his partner ; if that won't check him, it 
 will bring his partner up to him, and that is something 
 gained. If you attempt to pull him back by his bit, do- 
 it gently ; if violently, you pull him back on his bar, 
 which only makes him worse. The best way is, when 
 there is no check-rein used, to bring him back by his 
 harness ; that is, to keep the wheel-horses back, so that he 
 may feel the collar and his bit at the same time, which will 
 tend to soothe his temper.' Then he taught me another 
 move, which I have ever since practised. ' When a whole 
 team are overdoing it,' said he, ' don't draw all your reins 
 through your fingers at the same moment. By doing so, 
 your horses' mouths {i.e. the proper feeling of them, 
 which you may have taken some trouble to acquire) will 
 very often be lost. The following is a better plan : — 
 Open the fingers of your right hand, and put the reins 
 into them, and with a good gripe, about two inches in 
 front of your left hand, and then catch them again with 
 your left hand, by j^assing it in front of your right. You 
 then have their mouths just as they were, with only a 
 stronger pull upon them.' He also gave me the following 
 hints, which I never lost sight of : — ' The powers of a 
 horse in fast work, and with a heavy load,' said he, ' can 
 be measured to a mile. He may be very good for seven 
 or eight miles, but bad for ten or twelve. The priming, 
 indeed, is soon taken out of most of them, with a heavy 
 load, and they must be looked to. Wheelers have the 
 hardest j^lace, everything considered, as they are at work 
 up hill and down ; nevertheless, they must chiefly regulate 
 the speed, by keeping them up to the leaders, instead of 
 forcing the leaders to get away from them ; in fact, if 
 favour be shown, it should be to the leaders. You may 
 drag a tired wheeler home, and he can shift a little in his 
 work ; but if a leader cuts it, you are planted — add to 
 which, the wheel-horses are generally the strongest of the 
 team. Always put your freest leader on the near side, as 
 you will have him better in hand than if he were on the 
 other. If a leader is weak, and cannot take his bar, tie 
 up the wheeler that follows him, and it will place him 
 by the side of his partner. Leaders should be fast trotters ; 
 when cantering or galloping, the bars are never at rest. 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 279 
 
 consequently much of the draught is lost in the angles 
 they describe.' " 
 
 Frank Raby. " Do vou like throat-latching coach- 
 horses ? " 
 
 Jack Webber. " Not always. I think wheelers are 
 better with more liberty than they have when throat- 
 latched, and many horses will pull and fret in the throat- 
 latch, but go quietly out of it ; they do not like the con- 
 finement of it. Dealing with horses' mouths, in harness, 
 to make them work pleasantly and equably, is no easy 
 task. Some will not face a curb ; on others it appears to 
 make very little impression. It is difficult to handle a 
 tender-mouthed leader. His coupling-rein must be at 
 the cheek, or " 
 
 Frank Raby. "Why not drive him in a snaffle, at 
 once ? " 
 
 Jack Webber. " A snaffle is not safe : in case of a bolt, 
 or a drop, you cannot be sure of catching a horse up 
 quickly, at that distance from the hand. He should have 
 good liberty in his bearing- rein, and his curb-chain should 
 be slack. But, of all mouths, a dead mouth is the worst. 
 In this case, put the bearing-rein to the toi) of the bit (not 
 the cheek), and the coupling-rein to the lowest loop in the 
 bit, which creates a counter-action ; and not only makes 
 the bit of more service, but keeps the mouth in play. 
 This appears a severe remedy, but such is the danger 
 attending dead-mouthed horses, that we must not be too 
 scrupulous on that head." 
 
 Frank Raby. " One of my wheel-horses is playful, and 
 has twice kicked over his trace. Should I work him in 
 a kicking trace '? " 
 
 Jack Webber. " No, it is not necessary ; what is called 
 a hip-strap is sufficient, by which the trace is lifted up as 
 the horse lifts himself ; thus he cannot jump over it. 
 It is not an ornament to your harness, having rather a 
 slow appearance ; but it looks better than a kicking-trace, 
 and, unless with a really vicious horse, answers all ends." 
 
 " Sir John. " Were you ever hung up. Jack, on the 
 Brighton ground, for I know you loaded well, and there 
 are some sharp hills on it ? " 
 
 Lord Edmonston. " Hung up ! What are you talking 
 about ? I think if Jack had been hung up for a very few 
 seconds, we should not have had him here, for his weight 
 would soon have " 
 
28o THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 Jack Webber. "Choked him in his collar, you were 
 going to say. Being hung up, in coaching phraseology, 
 means being brought to a standstill, from one cause or 
 another. I have never been quite fast ; but having had 
 my share of high-blowers and soft-hearted ones, I have 
 now and then found it difficult to keep my time. With 
 horses of this description, I have always found it answer 
 to keep them from their collar, and let them only carry 
 their harness, for a few hundred yards, when they recover 
 themselves. A little watching and nursing was necessary 
 at all times on our road, as we were not capitally horsed." 
 
 Goodall. " How very fat some of the horses are which 
 run out of London." 
 
 Jack Webber. " So much the better ; good flesh is not 
 an obstacle to going the pace ; and no horses on the road 
 look so well as what are called the London horses ; their 
 stables are warm ; they have the best of hay and corn, 
 and are under the eye of a sharp-eyed foreman, who knows 
 his business well." 
 
 Frank Raby. "I suppose, Jack, you are all for the 
 long wheel-reins ?" 
 
 Jack Webber. " No one, south of Trent, is now seen 
 driving with any other. They are much the safest and 
 most business-like : the mouths of wheel-horses cannot be 
 felt as they should be felt, with the short wheel-rein." 
 
 Hargrave. " Do you think it is injurious to a hunter to 
 drive him occasionally in light harness ? " 
 
 Jack Webber. "By no means, provided his legs and 
 feet are good ; much better do that than send him to grass, 
 to become full of bad flesh." 
 
 Sornerby. " I am no coachman, but I often go from 
 Melton to London on the box of the mail, and one thing 
 puzzles me. I often see the traces of a wheel-horse appear 
 slack, and still the coachman is satisfied with the working 
 of the horse. How is that, Mr. Webber ? " 
 
 Jack Webber. " I will explain it in two words. If a trace 
 be twisted, it will never appear to be ' taut,' as the sailors 
 say ; but a coachman knows when a horse is at work, by 
 a certain tension of his frame." 
 
 Hargrave. "Will you tell me the best way to put 
 horses into harness the first time ? " 
 
 Jack Webber. " You mean double harness." 
 
 Hargrave. " I do." 
 
 Jack Webber. " Then I will give you the directions 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 281 
 
 which were given to me by one of the best judges of every- 
 thing that belongs to the amateur coach-box, at this time 
 in England. It is best to put a young horse in, the first 
 time, with only one other, which should be steady, good- 
 collared, and quick. A great deal of room should be given 
 him in his head, and he should be driven at the cheek of 
 an easy bit, with his pole-piece rather slack. He should be 
 started very quietly, making the old horse take collar 
 first ; and the first start should be in a wide space of 
 ground, so that he may be allowed to go any way he 
 pleases, without being checked. If he is alarmed, and 
 inclined to bounce or bolt, he should not be held hard, 
 and on no account stopi^ed ; for, if he is, he may not like 
 to start again — particularly if high-mettled. The old 
 horse will hold him, so as to prevent his running far. If 
 a young horse is shy of his collar — as most are — ^he should 
 not be pressed at first, as he may take a dislike to it, and 
 become a jibber. If not forced, they will generally take 
 to it of their own accord. When a young coach-horse is 
 stopped, it should be done very gradually — allowing at 
 least ten yards to do it in ; for if it is attempted to stop 
 him short, he will resist, and then he is drawing hy his 
 head. For the same reason, coach-horses should not be 
 held too hard when descending hills, which is a fault many 
 coachmen have. They forget the great additional weight 
 they are throwing upon them, as they are then drawing 
 by their heads. When a young horse is first jDut to a 
 coach, he should be very carefully turned to the pole, so 
 as to prevent its touching his hind quarter, which might 
 cause him to kick. When he has been driven long enough 
 to make him steady, he should be taken up in his bearing- 
 rein, and put down lower on his bit, and driven in a wide 
 circle, or figure of eight — keeping the inner horse well up 
 to his collar and bit. In his breaking he should be fre- 
 quently stopped, and not held after he is pulled up, as, if 
 he is high-mettled, it will make him restless, and, if dull, 
 he will not require it. Great care should be taken, at 
 starting, to make the old horse begin first, if the young 
 one be inclined to be hot, as it will prevent him from 
 plunging. If he is dull, and not ready to start when the 
 word of command is given, he should feel the whip till he 
 answers it. If inclined to kick, he should be taken up 
 very short in his pole-piece, and his bearing-rein tightened; 
 a stroke of the whip over the ears is also useful — a kind 
 
282 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 of punishment that, in my opinion, should never be in- 
 flicted but for vice. It is a brutal practice, and one which I 
 never had recourse to myself, except in the case of a kicker. 
 Young horses should have their heads a good deal at liberty. 
 Throat-latching a young horse, either wheeler or leader, 
 shows great want of judgment. Some will go more quietly 
 as leaders than at wheel, the reason for which I conceive to 
 be, their not liking to find themselves confined by the pole- 
 piece. All young horses should have their sides frequently 
 changed," 
 
 Hargrave. " Thank you kindly, Jack, for your good 
 and practical advice. I will ODly trouble you to decide 
 a dispute lately in my presence, as to what description of 
 road is easier of draught ? " 
 
 Jack Webber. " I can settle that point for you on the 
 authority of a very scientific man, and you will be sur- 
 prised at the result. The draught of a horse in harness is 
 thus calculated. On good pavement — 33 lb. ; on broken 
 stone surface — 65 lb. ; on broken stone, hard bound — 
 45 lb. ; on loose gravel — 147 lb. ! This accounts for the 
 London mail, and also that which runs to Manchester 
 from Chester, having only three horses for the first twenty 
 or thirty miles, the road being paved. As coachmen say, 
 when describing the vis vivida of the mechanic, a coach 
 running over pavement is always alive. In fact, she 
 jumps ^from stone to stone, whereby her motion is 
 accelerated." 
 
 Lord Edmonston. "As for coaching, as you gentlemen 
 of the whip express yourselves, I know nothing of it 
 practically, and we should not attempt what we do not 
 understand. We have a good hint on this subject in the 
 fable of Icarus, and Persius tells us that, if a ploughman 
 were to take the helm of a ship, the gods would leave him 
 to his fate. I repeat, then, that I know nothing of ' coach- 
 ing,' but I see no reason why English gentlemen, who can 
 afford to do it, may not indulge themselves in driving their 
 own coaches," 
 
 Goodall. " It is an old fashion — Lateranus, the Roman 
 consul, drove his own chariot." 
 
 Lord Edraonston. "Yes, but only by night, until the 
 year of his ofl&ce was out." 
 
 Goodall. " In Greece it was the amusement of kings : 
 PhUip of Macedon had his chariot victories engraved on 
 his coins; and Alcibiades had as many coach-horses in 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 283 
 
 training as Lord Grosvenor lias racers ; and, be it remem- 
 bered that the fire of Pindar's muse, which dazzled all 
 Greece, shone forth in honour of coachmen, jockeys, 
 wrestlers, and prize-fighters." 
 
 Sir John. " I remember he tells us that Pelops broke 
 his arm hitting a near leader in his race with CEnomaus. 
 But, jesting apart, we have taken some of our notions on 
 the coach-box from the ' old ones,' as we called the ancients, 
 at Eton. For example, when I saw Angus the other day, 
 in the j^ark, cutting a figure of eight with his four-in-hand, 
 I was conduced he was thinking of that beautiful passage 
 in the ^neid, where the sudden and artful turns, which 
 the goddess Juturna gave to her brother's chariot to avoid 
 the pursuit of ^neas, are compared to the flight of the 
 swallow, when seeking food for her young." 
 
 Goodall. " And you have them again, in the use of the 
 word 'artful.' When Pant on was complimenting little 
 Joe, as he who drives the Exeter mail out of London is 
 called, on his being so good a coachman, for so small a 
 man, he answered him thus : — ' I'll tell you how it is, Sir 
 Harry ; ivhat the big ones does by strength, I does byhaiiijice.' 
 Xow did not Xestor say the very same thing when he was 
 giving instructions to his son how to drive his chariot, 
 when contending for the prize at the funeral games of 
 Patroclus ; and where, although the worst horsed of the 
 lot, he was only beaten by a length ? For myself, although 
 no coachman beyond driving my father's curricle, I like 
 to listen to these discussions by men who understand the 
 thing well, and none others are worth listening to. If 
 Eschylus had not bled on the plains of Marathon, he 
 could not have celebrated on the stage the triumphs of his 
 country." 
 
 Sir John. "There is no small degree of mechanical 
 science, as well as knowledge of the laws of motion, to be 
 learnt in our line, eh. Jack ? " 
 
 Jack Webber. " Indeed, Inkleton, there is ; and many a 
 life has been lost for the want of such knowledge — in 
 descending hills, and turning corners, especially. If they 
 were aware how motion is accelerated by the continuance 
 of the impetus in one case, and, in the other, that, — as by 
 the laws of nature, all bodies put in motion by one power 
 will proceed in a straight line, unless compelled to change 
 their course by some force impressed, — any sudden de- 
 viation from that course disturbs the centre of gravity in 
 
284 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 proportion to its suddenness, they would be more careful 
 than tliev are. I could have told you all about these 
 matters when I left Cambridge ; but when I used to see 
 a passenger on my coach amusing himself with watching 
 the shot from the fore-wheel, which, on certain parts of 
 our road, would rise to a considerable height, whilst I was 
 springing them, I would say to myself, * that fellow little 
 thinks he is taking a lesson in conic-sections, and that 
 the parabola and their properties, which those bits of dirt 
 are describing, are the foundation of gunnery.' " 
 
 Frank Kaby. " Why, Jack, you are becoming 
 scientific." 
 
 Jack Webher. " Not much of that ; but if some 
 cleverer fellow than myself were to put these few points 
 before road coachmen, in plain English, and in a small 
 tract, published at a low price, the travelling public would 
 be great gainers." 
 
 Houghton. " Whilst on the subject of science, I wish a 
 pathometer could be used, to enable us to judge of the 
 sufferings of horses in coaches that travel so fast, and in 
 which long stages are run with very indifferent horses." 
 
 Jack Webher. " I think the suffering of coach-horses is 
 becoming less every year. In the first place, they are of 
 a better description of horse than formerly, which very 
 much reduces it ; secondly, they are much higher fed ; 
 and, lastl}^, stages are much shortened. We have now but 
 few twelve-mile, and no fourteen-mile stages. I have 
 heard my father say that, when he went to Rugby school, 
 there was a team on the Coventry and London road, called 
 ' The twenty milers.' They went from the ' Blue Boar,' 
 on Dunsmore Heath, to the ' Black Lion,' at Towcester — 
 just twenty miles." 
 
 Houghton. " The ' Blue Boar ' and the ' Black Lion ! ' 
 who ever heard of either, except in the imagination of a 
 madman ? " 
 
 Jack Webber. "We may as well ask, who ever saw a 
 white lion, or a unicorn, the latter one of the supporters 
 of our crown ? For my part I never could find out anyone 
 who could tell me what is meant by the word unicorn. 
 It cannot be an animal with one horn, because we read 
 in scripture of the horns of the unicorn. 
 
 Houghton. " I believe it to have been a kind of rhino- 
 ceros, whose history is not given us in scripture, but 
 mentioned by Moses, as having the strength of God ; or 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 285 
 
 an animal called the reem, which is spoken of by Joh as 
 an unmanageable animal, of great strength, but one which 
 refused to bend its neck to the yoke." 
 
 Jack Webber. "No bad type of John Bull, we must 
 allow ; and may the gods preserve me from a unicorn 
 team, which I once drove for three months. But as we 
 call a one-eyed horse, ' single-peeper,' should not a one- 
 horned rhinoceros be called, monoceros ? '^ 
 
 Frank Baby. " You are becoming facetious. Jack ; 
 suppose you give us another song," 
 
 Jack Webber. "With all my heart; and as you have 
 been speaking of Moses, I will give you one about 
 Adam: — 
 
 PARODY ON THE 'OLD ENGLISHMAN.' 
 
 ' Old Adam was the first-born man, as everybody knows, — 
 He never paid a tailor's bill, because he wore no clothes ; 
 Nor fine kid gloves upon his hands, as you may well suppose, 
 Nor dandy collar round his neck, nor shoes to hide his toes. 
 
 Chorus : — For Adam was a gentleman, one of the olden time. 
 
 He neither rent nor taxes paid, nor duns came to his door, 
 For he had enough of meat and drink, and some left for the 
 
 poor ; 
 For the poor were not then born, nor either were the great, 
 No rogues or thieves had he to fear, so he never lock'd his gate. 
 
 For Adam, &c. 
 
 His wife his dinner cook'd each day, of good fat roast and boil'd, 
 And oftentimes, for want of fire, his dinner it got spoil'd ; 
 And he would have had it cook'd by gas, but he could not 
 
 aff"ord — 
 And from Oldham had his coals, but the pits were not then 
 
 bored. 
 
 For Adam, &c. 
 
 He led a very happy sort of comfortable life, 
 And never quarrelled with anyone, except 'twas with his wife ; 
 And she durst trust him out at nights, for so some people say ; 
 Nor was she ever once afraid that he would go astray. 
 
 For Adam, &c. 
 
 And Eve, unlike our women now, in bows or frills ne'er drest, 
 Nor ever drank or gin or tea — now was not Adam blest? 
 Her neighbours she never scandalized, nor treated them with 
 
 scorn, 
 She was the pink of women then, because none else were born. 
 
 For Adam, &c. 
 
-286 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 Old Adam ne'er example took by other people's ways, 
 Nor ever went to routs or balls, to concerts or to plays ; 
 For concert-rooms and playhouses, they were not built then, 
 And Eve was never once accused of flirting with the men. 
 
 For Adam, &c. 
 
 At last poor Adam's days had run their course, and then, poor 
 
 man, he died. 
 Nor was there even one stood weeping by his bed-side ; 
 Without a good oak coffin they laid him in his clay, 
 Nor were they afraid of body-snatchers stealing him away. 
 
 For Adam, &c."' 
 
 Frank Baby. "Well clone, Jack! you sing like a 
 nightingale, and the sight of your good-humoured face 
 adds much to your melody. We will have one more 
 bottle of claret, a rubber at whist, in the other room, and 
 to bed in good time — a rule I mean to adopt in my house, 
 to the best of my power to do so. It is written of Moses, 
 of whom we have just been speaking, that at the age 
 of 100 years, 'his e3'e was not dim, neither was his 
 natural force abated ; ' and as I hope to ride a-hunting 
 at fourscore, at least, I mean to keep early hours, as no 
 doubt Moses did." 
 
 Jack Webber. " But, as a sportsman, if you wish to be 
 old, you must not regard all that Moses tells you. For 
 example ; he says, ' thou shalt not wear a garment of 
 divers sorts, as of linen and icooUen together.'' Now, who 
 can expect to hunt and shoot, in this country, without 
 suffering from rheumatism, if he do not wear flannel under 
 his shirt ; as for myself I should have been frozen as stiff 
 as the kitchen poker, many a night during the frost of 
 last winter but one, if I had not been allowed to roll 
 myself up in flannel." 
 
 Frank Raby. " Moses lived in a warm climate. Jack." 
 
 The first step, after breakfast, in a young sportsman's 
 house, is to the stables, a custom which was not departed 
 from by the party at Farndon House ; and when, on enter- 
 ing it, four vacant stalls were observed, Jack Webber 
 exclaimed : 
 
 " Hey-day, Frank ! what is become of your skewbald 
 team ? " meaning the one to which the chestnut piebald 
 belonged. 
 
 "They went last night to the 'Barley Mow,' twelve 
 miles from hence, to take us on to Townley Park, twelve 
 miles further, to call on that excellent fellow, as well as 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 287 
 
 capital sportsman and coacliman, Peyton, in whose stables 
 you will see a good stud of both hunters and coach-horses, 
 all in right keeping. He knows that we are coming, so 
 that he will give us a good luncheon, a bowl of bishop 
 to wash it down with, and we shall pick up Jem Powell, 
 on the road, who will amuse us as we toddle along." 
 
 " Who is Jem Powell ? " inquired Goodall. 
 
 " I am surprised at the question," said Jack Webber ; 
 " I should just as soon have expected a man to ask who 
 is George III. Jem is one of the oldest and best coachmen 
 on the Holyhead road, and a very clever fellow to boot. 
 Indeed, he says of himself, that if he had had a college 
 education, his place would have been before the bars, and 
 not behind them, by which he means a lirst-class degree." 
 
 " No doubt he would," observed our hero ; " for I never 
 heard him express himself but with point, on any one 
 occasion ; and there is a dry humour in his remarks that 
 gives them additional weight." 
 
 As the clock struck eleven, our party commenced their 
 drive. Jack Webber on the Idox with his host ; Sir John 
 behind him on the roof ; and the rest where their fancy 
 placed them ; and this being the first time of Sir John see- 
 ing his pupil at work on his own coach, he was not a little 
 interested by the event. All went well, however. Frank 
 Eaby gave proof that he had not lost sight of the instruc- 
 tions he had received from Jack Bailey, when at Eton, 
 nor from himself during the vacations ; and he was at 
 once pronounced, both by the Baronet and Jack Webber, 
 as only requiring one more year's experience, to make 
 him a first-rate coachman. His hand on his horses was 
 light ; his temper was not to be rufiled, although it was 
 occasionall}' put to the test, by a wheeler not working to 
 please him ; he descended rather a steep hill without 
 having recourse to the skid, and yet with very little 
 pressure on the wheelers, and he showed himself a judge 
 of pace, by keeping his time to half a minute, having 
 allowed himself an hour and ten minutes to do the twelve 
 miles. 
 
 At the change — the well-known " Barley Mow " — stood 
 the equally well-known Jem Powell, looking over the 
 fresh team, which were standing in readiness at the door, 
 and he thus saluted the party when they pulled up : 
 
 "Good morning to ye, gentlemen; I hope I sees you 
 all well. You have a fine morning for your drive; I 
 
288 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 hopes we shall find Sir Harry well. He is a worthy- 
 gentleman, and a good friend to us coachmen ; and (look- 
 ing at Sir John) here's another of the same sort. I hears 
 of you, Sir John, and what you are doing for 'em on the 
 north road. I am told you have made some on 'em mend 
 their ways already. And now we are a-going to have 
 another good gentleman amongst us in these parts, and 
 God be thanked for him — of course I means the owner 
 of these here horses ; but I arn't a-going to say all I think 
 on him before his face. And sure enough here is Mr. 
 Hargrave and Mr. Webber. Why, Mr. Hargrave, I 
 haven't seen you since you was at Christchurch, when 
 I tried to make you a coachman, but you was so terribly 
 fond of those hounds, there was no making nothing on 
 you in our line. As for the other gentlemen, I can't say 
 as I knows them." 
 
 " Then I'll introduce you to them," said Frank Raby. 
 "This is Mr. Houghton, here is Mr. Goodall, and here 
 is Lord Edmonston ; the two first-named gentlemen you 
 must have known before, Jem, for they were at Oxford." 
 
 " No doubt, sir," continued Jem, " but not in our line. 
 I am glad to see my Lord ; I likes to have a Lord about 
 my coach, it looks so respectable ; and we have as good 
 a one as any in England on our road, and a brother to 
 one that the world cannot beat. I believe, on my soul, 
 that he don't give away less than £400 a year to 
 coachmen and guards, besides having several of them 
 occasionally at his house, when they are sick." 
 
 "You mean the Hon. Thomas Kington," said Jack 
 Webber, shaking Jem heartily by the hand; "he is 
 an out-and-outer, as we say of a capital leader, but only 
 think of his being the son of a judge ! " 
 
 " He is as good a judge in our line, as his father ever 
 was in his," said Jem ; " I don't think there is a steadier, 
 better coachman in England than his Honour is." 
 
 " I have heard a great deal of Mr. Kington," said Lord 
 Edmonston, " but I never chanced to come across him." 
 
 " Then, my Lord," replied Jem, " as the horses are put 
 to, I haven't time to tell you half I knows of him, now, 
 but as we goes along, I'll let you a bit into his history." 
 
 " Are you all right 1 " cried Frank Raby, when he had 
 seated himself comfortably on his box ; and on the answer 
 in the aifirmative being given, away went the team, the 
 skewbald leader taking to his collar without a single 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 289 
 
 plunge, working admirably througliout, with the privilege 
 of having the bar. 
 
 " Well," said Jem ; " a prettier team than this no man 
 would wish to sit behind." 
 
 " And well turned out, eh, Jem 1 " said Webber. 
 
 " And well handled, too," remarked Sir John. 
 
 Jem nodded assent — merely observing that he should 
 be a better judge of that when they got to the top of a 
 hill which was before them, nearly a mile long. 
 
 " But," resumed Jem, " I was a-going to tell you about 
 that there Mr. Kington — His Honour, as the coachmen 
 and guards all calls him on this road, and most others. 
 Do you know, he works almost as regular as we poor 
 servants do, keeping fourteen coach-horses in full employ. 
 He drives to his country town, fifteen miles from his 
 house, and back, four days in the week, and on some 
 other road the other two, but, like me, he lays rest on 
 a Sunday ; that is to say, he only puts to a pair, and 
 drives his family to church. They tells me there is not 
 a poor man in distress in his parish, he is so kind to them 
 all ; and as to coachmen and guards, he has saved many 
 of their souls as well as their bodies." 
 
 "What do you mean by saving their bodies?" asked 
 Lord Edmonston. 
 
 " Why, my Lord," replied Jem, " he saves 'em in two 
 ways. First, although all the coachmen and guards 
 which pass through his village have a glass of good ale, 
 at the public, chalked up to his Honour, he advises them 
 not to drink spirits, nor too much of anything. Then, 
 again, if any of them meet with an accident, or are sick, 
 or want a week's rest, his servants' hall and a good bed 
 are open to them, till such times as they recover. His 
 Honour would have made the best mail-coachman in 
 England, for he keeps such capital time, even with his 
 own coach. He won't wait a moment for nobody when 
 his time is up ; and do you know, my Lord, he once left 
 his lady behind, to come home in a post-chaise, because 
 she warn't to the time at the inn from which he starts. 
 That's what I call being punctual. Then he goes through 
 all the manoeuvres that we regular coachmen go through. 
 When he drives into the yard, he walks into the office, 
 hangs up his coat and whip, takes off his knee-caps and 
 shawl, and then (what we can't do) walks out like a 
 gentleman." 
 
 19 
 
2go THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 At this moment a gentleman in black trotted past the 
 coach, and on its being remarked by our hero, that Jem 
 made him a most respectful salutation, he asked him his 
 name. 
 
 " His name, sir ! " answered Jem ; " why I thought 
 everybody knew Parson Smith — the cleverest parson in 
 the county. They tells me that when he preaches the 
 church is as full as a cock-pit." 
 
 " By the simile you have used," observed Lord 
 Edmonston, "I presume you are given to cock-fighting.'* 
 
 " Have been so, in a small way, all my life, my Lord," 
 rej^lied Jem. " And when we gets to Sir Harry's, he will 
 show you, if you ask him, the picture of a favourite cock 
 of mine, that won me six battles. It is painted on the 
 dial-plate of a watch I gave the Baronet soon after he left 
 college ; and there are also pictures of a race-horse, a 
 bull- dog, and a greyhound on it, with my own ugly face 
 in the centre." 
 
 A good laugh, of course, followed this episode of Jem's, 
 and, when it ceased. Lord Edmonston told him he was 
 sorry to hear he was fond of so cruel a sport as cock- 
 fighting. " My friend, Mr. Baby, had a turn that way,'^ 
 said his Lordship, "but I am happy to say he now flies at 
 nobler game." 
 
 " Why, my Lord," said Jem, " I much fear there are no 
 sports which you gentlemen takes delight in, that are not 
 more or less cruel. I thinks as how I should have given 
 up cock-fighting, had not a very clever gentleman of our 
 Univei*sity made me believe it is not at all cruel." 
 
 " Do 5^ou recollect what arguments he made use of 1 " 
 inquired Hargrave. 
 
 " Why," answered Jem, " if you can take them in my 
 homely language, they were much after this fashion. He 
 said he did not think cock-fighting equal as to cruelty to 
 horse-racing, in which poor animals are forced, against 
 their nature, to performances beyond their strength, with 
 whips and spurs, which jockeys call cutting up. And this 
 novj happens only a few months arter the poor sufferer 
 has been taken from the side of its dam. But in the 
 fighting of game-cocks the case is different ; for instead of 
 a force against nature, it is an indulgence of nature." 
 
 " Of natural propensities, you mean, Jem," said Frank 
 Baby. 
 
 " i shouldn't wonder," resumed Jem ; " but this is my 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 291 
 
 climisy ^vay of telling the story. ' Cocks at tlieir walks/ 
 he said, ' and at full liberty, will seek each other for battle, 
 as far as they can hear each other's crowing, and the 
 putting S23urs on their heels, when brought into the pit to- 
 fight, is quite contrary to cruelty, for the battle is sooner 
 over, and what they suffer is nothing, or next to nothing, 
 to what they would suffer, were they to fight with their 
 own natural heels, bruising each other in every tender 
 part — killing each other, in short, by inches. Then here,'' 
 he said, 'is the comparison between the man who fights ai 
 duel, and him who fights for money in the ring. The 
 one meets his man like the game-cock, of his own free 
 will, and with artificial weapons ; but the other is made 
 to fight merely for the sake of money, and as he fights- 
 with natural weapons, he receives blows and bruises, 
 almost to the point of death, just to amuse idle lookers-on, 
 and for the purpose of gambling on the event.' " 
 
 " Did your friend say anything about hunting ? " asked 
 Hargrave. 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Hargrave," replied Jem, "he compared it in 
 one way to cock-fighting. 'Hounds and greyhounds/ 
 said he, 'are formed for the pursuit of their respective 
 game ; they are guided by nature.' " 
 
 " By natural instinct, you mean, Jem," interrupted 
 Hargrave. 
 
 " Just so," said Jem ; " they acts of their own accord, he 
 told me ; the whole is an indulgence of their natural 
 propensities, as you call 'em." 
 
 " But the game they hunt, what did he say of it ? "^ 
 continued Hargrave. 
 
 "Well, to be sure," replied Jem, "he said it must be 
 anything but comfortable when the dogs are pursuing it, 
 but its fate is soon settled, and there is no dying of 
 wounds, as there is from shooting and fishing." 
 
 " But the very fact of the game-cock being the noble 
 animal he is," said Lord Edmonston, " is the reason why 
 he should be restrained from fighting without a natural 
 cause." 
 
 "Man may be considered as the delegate of Heaven 
 over inferior creatures, but he has no right to torment 
 them unnecessarily. Then observe the character of the 
 cock, as he claps his wings before he crows ; how proud, 
 how courageous is his appearance ! The very lion himself 
 is said to fear him. At all events, his graceful attitude 
 
292 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 and carriage, together with his high-beaming eye, rank 
 him in the highest class of birds." 
 
 " All very true," said Hargrave ; " but without defend- 
 ing cock-fighting, will you show me the man who can 
 account for that early instinct which impresses young 
 animals M'ith the notion of the situation and use of their 
 natural weapons, and of even using them before they are 
 properly formed, and at the same time can say, that the 
 display of this instinct was not given them for some good 
 purpose? I can only observe that the science of cock- 
 fighting, if I may be allowed to call it so, is one of the 
 most difficult, if not the most extraordinary of any 
 connected with the animal system. Training the race- 
 horse is A B C to it. Fancy an experienced feeder being 
 able to discern to a nicety to what extent cocks of one 
 particular breed will bear reducing in weight, and w^hat 
 those of another. Then one man shall make his cocks 
 fight for three consecutive days with equal strength and 
 spirit, whereas his competitor cannot keep his up to the 
 mark beyond the second day. He will be at the height 
 of condition one day, and retrograde rapidly the next. 
 Again, what a strange phenomenon is this : — cocks, of 
 the same blood, bred from a father and daughter, will 
 run away, whilst those from a mother and son will stay to 
 be killed piecemeal, and vice versa ! Lastly, their colour ; 
 how true to their feather are they preserved by the most 
 eminent breeders — without the slightest deviation, indeed, 
 for a great number of generations ! There is a well- 
 attested instance of this on record. An eminent breeder 
 of game-fowls had preserved an invariable production of 
 what are called black-breasted reds during fifteen years, 
 but in the sixteenth he had several light piles in one 
 hatch, or brood. No change of eggs could have taken 'place, 
 nor was there a possibility of the access of any other cock 
 to his hens. On looking back, however, he ascertained 
 that, five years previously to his having his original 
 breed out of Shropshire, there had been a cross of a 
 Cheshire pile in the hens. Thus, it appears, the plumage 
 had remained perfect for twenty-one years." 
 
 "A most singular fact, undoubtedly," said Lord 
 Edmonston, " but I understand the same phenomenon 
 occasionally occurs in horses. I am told, that not only 
 does the colour often go back to a very distant cross, but 
 that a small dark-coloured spot on the hinder quarters of 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 293 
 
 Eclipse is, to this day, entailed on some of his blood, 
 although distant several generations from the original." 
 
 " Similar phenomena," observed Houghton, " are observ- 
 able in flowers. What florists call ' a run flower,' is one 
 which has the inherent vice of changing colour, with 
 little chance of regaining its primitive and valuable 
 brilliancy. In a perfect flower, every leaf should be 
 striped according to its class, whether flake or bizarre." 
 
 "Well," said Jem, "I cannot talk with you gentlemen 
 on these matters — because why, you know, I am no 
 scholard, but there is one point you haven't touched upon, 
 concerning cock-fighting. Mr. Hargrave here will tell 
 you — for I have often seen him in a cock -pit — that cocks 
 show as much skill, in defence and attack, as the best 
 prize-fighters of the day, and, like them, their blows have 
 more or less force, according to their better skill. If a 
 cock's legs are out of the direction of his body, we call 
 him a dry-spurred or dry-heeled cock, because he can't 
 hit to do much harm. He seldom carries death with his 
 heels. On the contrary, if his legs are in a proper direc- 
 tion with his body, he stands erect, rises high, is a close 
 hitter, and generally wins his battle, and in a short time 
 too. Oh ! it is a fine sight to see a set-to between two 
 such cocks as this, and I wish I was sure it warn't cruel." 
 
 "As for that, Jem," said Hargrave, "I fear we cannot 
 divest it of a certain portion of cruelty. Although, to a 
 thinking mind, nothing is more astounding than that 
 early instinct which impresses young animals with the 
 notion of the situation of their natural weapons, in the 
 first place, and, in the next, of using them, even before 
 they are properly formed — for a young cock will spur at 
 his adversary before his spurs are grown out, and a calf, 
 or lamb, will push or butt with their heads before their 
 horns are sprouted — I fear we have no right wantonly to 
 expose one animal to the fury of another. But so it will 
 be to the end of time. That perfect calm, that uninter- 
 rupted felicity which some persons would wish to in- 
 troduce into the world, is but a chimera — a beautiful one, 
 I allow — but only appearing possible to those who judge 
 of things according to their imagination alone ; ' since 
 everyone who forms a cool judgment on the subject will 
 see that the earth was never designed for such a state." 
 
 "I do not quite agree with you, Hargrave," observed 
 Lord Edmonston ; " I think " 
 
294 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 " Beg pardon, my Lord, for interrupting you," said Jem ; 
 and, touching our hero on the shoulder, thus quaintly 
 addressed him: "Beg pardon, Mr. Baby, but 1 should 
 like to hear your bars rattle a little down this next hill. 
 Excuse me, sir, but, on the last, you committed a fault 
 which most young coachmen commit — you let your 
 leaders draiv, which of course makes it worse for your 
 wheelers. Always let your bars rattle a little, going 
 down hill." 
 
 " That near leader over-pulls me," said Frank. 
 
 " I observe he does," replied Jem ; " pull his rein three 
 inches through your hand, and gripe it tightly with your 
 thumb ; and when your horses are on their collars, keep 
 your wheelers up to him, and he will not pull you so 
 much. But I'll alter his coupling-rein for you when we 
 get to Sir Harry's." 
 
 " That's right, Jem," said Hargrave, " let us have no 
 more cocking at present ; give us something on the 
 road." 
 
 " A little of your history," added Lord Edmonston. 
 
 " Why that will be rather a longish story, my Lord," 
 replied Jem ; " I think we had better leave it till we are 
 on the road homewards. A little of Sir Harry's beef, and 
 a glass or two of his good ale, will make my tongue run 
 more glib." 
 
 " Like a newly-greased wheel — eh, Jem ? " said Jack 
 Webber. 
 
 Arrived at Townley Park, they found the worthy 
 Baronet expecting them, and with a really good luncheon 
 on his dinner-table ; for which a twenty-four miles' ride 
 through the balmy air of a spring morning, added to the 
 cheerful talk on the road, had given them a keen ajDpe- 
 tite. And by rather a curious coincidence, at the very 
 moment in which they drove up to the door, another 
 coach was to be seen at the farther end of the park, in 
 which were four strapping brown horses, trotting away at 
 the rate of, at least, twelve miles in the hour, with apparent 
 ease to themselves, and in the hands of a perfect master of 
 his art. This proved to be the splendid turn-out of Mr. 
 Herson, a neighbour of Sir Harry's, who chanced to call 
 on him at that hour ; and when it is stated that he gave 
 400 guineas for the leaders which he had this day at work, 
 their fine appearance and paces can be very readily 
 accounted for. But to the arrival of our hero and his 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 295 
 
 party, which we will relate in the dialogical form, as 
 saving some trouble : — 
 
 Sir Harry. "Glad to see you on your own box, Eaby ; 
 when you were last on mine, I thought you would not be 
 long before you got to work. The old uncle cut up well, 
 I find, and 1 rejoice to think that you have settled so near 
 me, and on so good a road. How d'ye do, Inkleton 1 
 What, Jack Webl^er ! — are you there, with your round 
 a,nd rosy face ? I suppose you are giving the young one 
 some instructions. But there is old Jem Powell there, I 
 see ; I beg his pardon, a thousand times, for sui3posing 
 any man could act the schoolmaster in his -presence. Glad 
 to see you, Jem ; how smart you are to-day ! And 
 Hargrave — delighted to see you ; you are one quite after 
 my own heart — fond of the box and hounds — a right 
 good sportsman, and the best man out of Christchurch, 
 in your time, on the pigskin." 
 
 Frank Rahy. "I believe. Sir Harry, I have three 
 friends here to whom you are not known. Allow me to 
 introduce to you Lord Edmonston, a most particular friend 
 of mine, although not one of the best on the pigskin ; also 
 Mr. Goodall and Mr. Houghton, both Christchurch men, 
 not much in our line at present, but first-class men in 
 another." 
 
 Sir Harry. " Happy to see you all. Now let Jem take 
 your coach into the yard, and himself into the servants' 
 hall ; a bit of venison pasty will do you all no harm after 
 your drive, and I have ordered a good bowl of ' l)ishop.' 
 But here is Herson coming ; you will now see the best 
 and fastest team, this day, in England ; and so they 
 ought to be, for he has not a horse in his coach-stable 
 that cost him less than a hundred, and he gave two 
 hundred a-piece for the leaders he has in to-day. I know 
 them at this distance, by their action." 
 
 Five minutes, or less, brought this splendid team to the 
 door. To some of this party Mr. Herson and his friends 
 were known, and the usual introduction to the others 
 being soon concluded, luncheon was the order of the day, 
 and ample justice was done to it — by the Farndon party, 
 especially. A walk to the stable-yard followed, which 
 may be said to have been a matter of course, from the 
 nature of the parties assembled, and the prevailing 
 similarity of their tastes. The following may be relied 
 jipon for its contents : — . 
 
296 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 In the hvinters' stables were seven first-rate horses, but 
 not looking to advantage, being stripped of their clothing, 
 and, in the language of the grooms of that day, " put out 
 of condition," previously to being turned out for the 
 summer, the Baronet not having quite relinquished the 
 grazing sytsem, although his stud remained abroad for a 
 much less time than that of his neighbour did, and were 
 allowed a certain portion of corn. They appeared to our 
 hero to be just the sort of horses to carry thirteen stone, 
 which they did carry, whilst under their owner, let the 
 country or pace be what they may. In short, they were 
 ridden by one of the first horsemen England ever saw. 
 Amongst them was Watchmaker, the Baronet's favourite 
 horse, and of which we have already spoken as having 
 signalized himself on the BoswoHh day, in one instance ; 
 in the struggle between the orange and red, in another ; 
 and also as having been depictured in the " Sporting 
 Magazine," in the act of taking a desperate leap, and 
 setting the whole field. He was a grey gelding, sixteen 
 hands high, of singularly fine form, and a delightful horse 
 to ride over every description of ground. 
 
 The next thing that attracted the eye of the party was 
 the Baronet's driving coach, which stood in the yard, with 
 the bars on the head of the pole, great-coats on the box, 
 and behind ; lamps in the irons, with the slides down, but 
 fresh trimmed — everything, in short, ready for a start. 
 The fact was, the Baronet was going to dine with a friend, 
 residing about twelve miles distant from Townley, with 
 the intention of returning at night. The coach-stable was 
 then entered, and a gratifying sight was presented to 
 by far the majority of the party. It contained thirteen 
 coach-horses, not, perhaps, remarkable for their fine 
 figures, but coming under the denomination of very useful 
 horses for road work, of which they had no small share, 
 scarcely a day passing, in the summer, but they took their 
 turns in harness ; and when the locality of the fixture 
 suited for wheels, they were generally seen at the cover's 
 side in the winter. The colour was grey, with the 
 exception of one piebald, but the Baronet was not partial 
 to piebalds, having, for the most part, found them soft, 
 and not strong in their harness. Lastly, the harness-room 
 was greatly admired, not only for the cleanliness of the 
 tackle, but for the real business-like appearance of 
 everything which it contained. Among the items were, 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 297 
 
 three sets of road harness ; two sets for a pair ; two for 
 the break ; two of single harness ; three pairs of lamps ; 
 four sets of bars ; two tool boxes, complete ; three skids, 
 and two drag-chains ; seven box coats (besides those on 
 the coach in the yard), and seventeen whips, some of 
 them having the appearance of not being made yesterday. 
 Then an interesting spectacle followed. At a given 
 moment — the party having returned to the house to 
 finish the bowl of "bishop" — the three teams came to the 
 door, taking a sweep round the large grass plot in front 
 of the hall door, which set them off to advantage. The 
 Baronet's led the way, driven by his head coachman, and 
 followed by that of Mr. Herson, driven also by his ; whilst 
 Jem Powell brought up our hero's in equally good style. 
 As may be supposed, they became the subject of remark, 
 but the preference, as to horses, was unanimously given 
 to that of Mr. Herson ; and deservedly so, no doubt. In 
 the first place, the prices given for them entitled them to 
 be first-rate; in the next, they were nearly thorough- 
 bred ; and lastly, they were as fresh on their legs as when 
 they first felt the rein, which could not be said of the two 
 other teams, some of each of which showed marks of 
 something beyond what is called gentleman's work. 
 
 Having taken leave of their host, who expressed him- 
 self much pleased with our young sportsman's turn-out, 
 as well as the coachmanlike style in which he approached 
 the house on his arrival, they pursued their road home- 
 ward, allowing themselves the same length of time to 
 perform the twenty- four miles of ground. 
 
 " Now, Jem," said Jack Webber, after passing the park 
 gates, "let us have a little of your history. By the 
 colour on your cheeks, you appear to be alf the better 
 for the Baronet's good cheer, and, as I said before, your 
 tongue will slip over the ground like a newly-greased 
 wheel." 
 
 "My history," said Jem, "is told in a few words. I 
 have been a road coachman these three-and-thirty years, 
 and never lay rest, thank God, more than a dozen 
 journeys in all that time, except when I broke my leg, 
 and had my right foot frost-bitten. Then I had — like 
 you gentlemen, who goes to school and college to fit you 
 for your situations — the regular education of a coachman. 
 I did not jump from off some country gentleman's pair- 
 orse coach-box, or from behind a counter in a coach-ofiice, 
 
agS THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 or, perhaps, that of a grocer's shop, on to a stage-coach, as 
 some of our present would-be coachmen have done, and 
 who hardly knows a coupling- rein from a bearing- rein, 
 still less what a horse can do in his harness ; but I began 
 my education by riding the leaders before my father, on 
 the heavy Brummagem, for better than three years. 
 Thafs the -place for a young man to learn his business — 
 before a good coachman, as my father was, and a coach 
 that carries three ton weight, as that often did, in roads 
 over the fellies of the wheels, and none of the best of 
 cattle. Then, I have never had but one master and one 
 coach since I have been regular at work, now going on for 
 thirty-four years." 
 
 " Are you married ? " asked Lord Edmonston. 
 
 " No, my Lord," replied Jem ; " I was near being had 
 •once, but I slij)ped out on't, and took care never to run 
 my head into that there collar again ; I feared it might 
 prove what we calls ' a false one.' " 
 
 "But what has been your objection to the married 
 state ? " resumed Lord Edmonston. 
 
 " Why, to tell you the truth, my Lord," answered Jem, 
 " I have more than one objection to it. In the first place, 
 a gentleman who sat by me on the box, many years ago, 
 made use of these words to a passenger who sat behind 
 liim on the roof, and they made such an impression on me 
 that, if I was to live a thousand years, I should never 
 forget them : — ' The ancients,' he said, 'are clearly against 
 the female sex, and the moderns are not very favourably 
 disposed towards them, from all I have read of them.' 
 Now, thinks I to myself, surely both ancients and 
 moderns can't be wrong on this here matter ; but as 
 neither seems to have a favourable opinion of woman- 
 kind, I thought I had best leave them alone. And it was 
 .a very clever man who spoke this in my hearing." 
 
 " Some rum old fellow of a college, I'll be bound for it," 
 fiaid Jack Webber, "who would not have given up his 
 •common room comforts, and his old port wine, for the 
 iinest woman in England." 
 
 " No, he warn't," resumed Jem ; " but I ain't told you 
 my other reason. I daresay there is much pleasure in the 
 married life, but I am quite certain there is also much 
 pain. What scenes have I witnessed amongst husbands 
 and wives, and parents and children, since I have drove 
 this coach — I mean when taking leave of each other ! I 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 299 
 
 have seen two or three rascals a-going to be hanged, but 
 I never saw them half so cast down as I have seen 
 passengers on my coach, when leaving their families 
 behind them — ferha^s for ever! I have heard them 
 bellowing and crying for the first two stages, and they 
 wouldn't take no comfort. My very heart has bled for 
 them." 
 
 " You must be rich, Jem," observed Lord Edmonston. 
 
 " No, I arn't rich, my Lord," replied Jem ; " not but 
 what, if I was to leave the coach to-morrow, I should have 
 enough to keep me — just able to make tongue and buckle 
 meet." 
 
 " But what have you done with your money, Jem, eh ? " 
 said Jack Webber ; " two coaches a day, and no one to 
 look after you ! Something for the shirt pocket, every 
 day, eh, Jem ? " 
 
 " Why," replied Jem, " I am not a-going to boast that 
 I am honester than other folks ; my having served one 
 master three-and- thirty years will best speak to that 
 point ; but I have been a good friend to my poor brother's 
 widow and children. He was killed last Christmas-day 
 thirteen years, on the Worcester mail, and I have sup- 
 ported his family ever since. Poor fellow, he was one of 
 the nicest light coachmen you ever saw on a coach-box ; 
 and I hope, one day or another, his eldest boy will have 
 my place." 
 
 " What you have told us is much to your credit," said 
 Frank Eaby, " and it is no wonder that you have so many 
 friends." 
 
 " I have many kind friends, indeed," replied Jem ; 
 " only think of Squire Amstey keeping a horse for me at 
 Oxford, all the summer months, on purpose for me to 
 ride out after I come in with my coach ; and I have a 
 good dinner at his house every Sunday in the year, if I 
 like to go for it." 
 
 " Then you don't drive on Sundays 1 " observ^ed 
 Goodall. 
 
 " No," replied Jem ; " I would not work on a Sunday 
 for any man ; it's like leading the life of a nigger. I 
 generally goes to church in the morning, and to the 
 Squire's in the evening." 
 
 " No alehouse work," observed Lord Edmonston. 
 
 " I smokes one pipe, and drinks a pint of ale, every 
 -Bvening at the ' Black Dog,' after I have had my dinner. 
 
300 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 I am no drinker, nor would I advise any coachman to be 
 such, particularly one that drives over such cold ground 
 as I do. All I have on the road is half a pint of ale, 
 with my lunch, where I meets my coach, and then I enjoy 
 my dinner when I gets in. Indeed, I often say to myself, 
 when returning over those cold hills : — ' Oh, how I could 
 set-to now, at a good rump-steak and onions ! ' " 
 
 "I have always thought," observed Lord Edmonston, 
 " that road coachmen must obtain a great knowledge 
 of mankind from their everyday communication with 
 persons of all descriptions, and nearly from all countries." 
 
 "Why, my Lord," said Jem, "we meets with all sorts 
 — good, bad, and indifferent — and especially on this road. 
 We carries a great many Irish." 
 
 " And how do you find them ? " asked Jack Webber. 
 
 " There are many good ones amongst them, but still 
 more good for nothing," was the answer ; " but, saving 
 your presence, gentlemen, they are all devils to brag. I 
 never carried one, calling himself a gentleman^ that had less 
 than £1500 a year." 
 
 " And a park ? " said Eaby. 
 
 " A park, of course," resumed Jem ; " and many on 
 them talk of their castles — in the air, I suppose. But I 
 could not help thinking that they must often get pulled 
 up, when talking so big. Indeed, I pulled up one of 
 them myself, last summer. He asked me who lived at 
 Warton House, on our road. I told him the Earl of 
 Connell — my kind friend, as you have heard me speak of, 
 Mr. Eaby. ' By the powers ! ' said he, ' but I know his 
 Lordship well ; he comes from my own country. How 
 I should like to stop and ask him how he does ! ' Now, 
 as to that part of the story, you know it was quite out of 
 the question, as the hall is nearly a mile from the road ; 
 but, as ill-luck for the Irishman would have it, we had 
 not gone far before we meets my Lord, who pulls up his 
 horse and gives me a letter to take to a friend of his in 
 Oxford. 'Who is that gentleman?' said the Irishman, 
 as soon as the coach went on. ' That nohleman, sir,' said 
 I, 'is the Earl of Connell.' Now, I says nothing more 
 on the subject for as much as a quarter oi an hour, giving 
 the gentleman time to recover himself a little, for he 
 looked mighty simple after the answer I gave him about 
 his ^friend ; ' but, at last, I turns myself a little towards 
 him on the box, and looking full in his face, says^ 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 301 
 
 *Why, sir, you seems very intimate with that there 
 Lord.' » 
 
 " Capital! " exclaimed Lord Edmonston ; " Junius him- 
 self never gave a man a more severe rebuke. Let me 
 ask you a question. From your constant observation of 
 character, are you able to distinguish beforehand the 
 persons from whom you are likely to be best remunerated 
 for your trouble — at all events, those who will do you 
 justice, by giving you the customary fee? " 
 
 "There are but three descriptions of passengers," 
 replied Jem, " who pay more than the accustomed fee, 
 and those are very soon picked out. There is, first, the 
 gentleman who not only bespeaks the box place, but who 
 asks questions about the horses, &c. ; he is sure to come 
 the double tip. Next, is the quiet, gentlemanlike-looking 
 passenger, with a good collar to his coat, who merely asks 
 a few questions about the places we pass by on the road, 
 and who has a good-sized black portmanteau about the 
 coach. We are pretty sure of him. But the best 
 customer of all is the just paid-off sailor, three parts 
 drunk. I have often had a croion put into my hands by 
 one of those chaps, and once half a guinea, which I 
 refused. ' Why, you lubberly land lubber,' said he, ' if I 
 don't give it to you, I shall give it to the next that steers 
 us ; put it into your locker, and be thankful.' " 
 
 " How do you find women pay you ? " asked Houghton. 
 
 "Generally speaking, unless they happen to have a 
 young child about the coach, which you are kind to," 
 answered Jem, " or can throw in a word or two, to tickle 
 them about their good looks, they are the worst payers 
 we have. So far from giving us a double tip, they are 
 much more apt to tip us the double when they can." 
 
 " You don't seem to be very fond of the women, Jem," 
 said Goodall. 
 
 " They are all very well in their places," replied Jem, 
 " but I don't like too many on 'em about my coach. I 
 hates the sight of a bandbox, and still worse of an old 
 maid and her lap-dog." 
 
 " I observe," said Lord Edmonston, " there is not so 
 much swearing now among road coachmen as there used 
 to be, when I first travelled by coaches." 
 
 " Please you, my Lord," answered Jem, " there is not so 
 much swearing among gentlemen as was used to be. De- 
 pend upon this, my Lord, we little ones borrows many 
 
302 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 Aices from you great ones ; and you great ones, now and 
 then — I ax pardon, my Lord — borrows from us little ones. 
 When gentlemen leaye off swearing, depend on it, it will 
 get yery much out of fashion." 
 
 At this moment one of the Birmingham and London 
 coaches gaye our party the meeting, and called forth some 
 remarks from them on the superior style of the cattle, as 
 well as the improyed build of the coach. It was full 
 inside and out, together %yith an abundance of luggage, 
 but was neyertheless proceeding at the rate of eight miles 
 an hour, on rather a considerable ascent of ground. 
 
 " "What country in the world but England," exclaimed 
 Jack "Webber, "can exhibit such a sight as that? We 
 ought to be prouder of it than we are. There go half the 
 population of a yillage, together with all their traps, as 
 we call luggage on the Brighton road, carried at the rate 
 of a good nine miles an hour, all stoppages included ; and, 
 although on what may be called a ticklish balance, as safe 
 as if they were in their beds, by the superior system of 
 putting horses into harness and driying them. 1 repeat, 
 we ought to be prouder of it than we are.'"" 
 
 " They tells me, ^Ir. Webber,"' said Jem Powell, " though 
 I scarce knows how to belieye it, that we sha'n't be proud 
 of it long. They say coaching by horses is soon to be at 
 an end, and that we are to haye coaches go of themselyes 
 — that is to say, by some kind of machinery which it is 
 not in my power to explain. This seems a hard case, to 
 knock up such a system as coaching, now that it is just 
 brought to perfection, or nearly so. It will be the ruin of 
 a great many people who now gets their liying on the road. 
 But they tells me this is the case in most other things, 
 nowadays. Some busybody, with, perhaps, more brains 
 than his neigh boursj and wanting to make himself rich, 
 without caring who he may make poor, comes out with 
 some new-fangled plans, and upsets all the old ones, which 
 did yery well for us before." 
 
 " There is some truth in what you haye said," obseryed 
 Lord Edmonston ; " this is a wise and understanding age ; 
 but if we look into the history of mankind, in all periods 
 of the world, we find men haye arisen, from time to time, 
 who have changed the whole face of some department of 
 human knowledge ; nevertheless, Jem, you need not alarm 
 yourself on this point. I conceive you have been told that 
 carriages will be propelled on roads by what is called a 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 305: 
 
 locomotive power, produced by steam, but, be assured, it 
 will never take place. Whenever they travel by steam, it 
 must be on iron tram-roads, but the time is far distant 
 before that will be accomplished. At all events, coaching 
 by horses will last your time." 
 
 ' " Then," resumed Jem, " there is a man who has built a 
 carriage that cannot be overturned, but they tells me it is 
 as heavy as a broad- wheel waggon, and as much iron about 
 it as is in three of our coaches. Surely our coaches are 
 safe enough, in safe hands." 
 
 " I saw the coach you speak of, tried," observed Goodall ; 
 "it certainly did run on a bank elevated thirty inches 
 from the ground, and the centre of gravity was not dis- 
 turbed, but I thought it a sad complicated piece of work- 
 manship, and, for my own part, I would as soon ride in a 
 waggon." 
 
 "XVell," said Jem, "we must not find fault with all 
 those busybodies, as I calls them, for this A merican chap, 
 Mr. McAdam, is showing our people how to make the roads 
 run well, though they are terribly loth to follow his 
 directions. They won't believe but what those small 
 stones vnW grind all to pieces in a very short time, instead 
 of — which they do — forming a hard and smooth surface. 
 Indeed, I was myself some time before I could persuade 
 myself that they would do so, even if properly broke, and 
 put thick enough on the road." 
 
 " The surface of a road is formed as ice is formed," 
 observed Lord Edmonston, "by the uniting of its own 
 spiculae, which dovetail into each other ; thus, small stones 
 unite by their own angles, and produce the effect we see. 
 I considered McAdam the greatest benefactor to England 
 since Dr. Jenner, for, until we adopted his plan, we did 
 not know what a good road is. The large stones pre- 
 viously made use of, both in forming and repairing roads, 
 were calculated, mechanically, to render them uneven and 
 full of holes, inasmuch as they acted as levers to raise up 
 the ground, when a wheel passed over one end of them." 
 
 " You have been very lucky in the accident w^ay, have 
 you not, Jem ? " said Webber. 
 
 " Never throwed a coach over, sir," replied Jem, " but 
 have had her over twice — once by the axle-tree breaking, 
 when I broke my leg, and once — before we got patent 
 boxes — by losing a fore- wheel. There ought to be an Act 
 of Parliament to prevent any coach from running that has 
 
304 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 not patent boxes to tlie wheels, for linch-pins are not to be 
 depended upon ; and axle-trees should be made stronger 
 than they are." 
 
 " I think so, too," observed Webber ; " the sustaining 
 power should be much more than equal to the impending 
 weight. I had my coach over once from an axle-tree 
 giving way, but, luckily, no one was hurt. Coach axle- 
 trees should be tried before used by an hydraulic press, 
 the test being twice the weight they would ever be re- 
 quired to sustain. And care should be taken that not 
 only the best iron is used, but that there is no flaw in it — 
 for axle-trees are always found to break where any flaw 
 exists." 
 
 " But would it not be difficult to find out whether there 
 is a flaw in the iron ? " asked Jem. 
 
 " Not at all," replied Webber ; " let the axle-tree be 
 placed on an anvil, and struck on its nose at one end with 
 a key, or any bit of iron or steel, and if, on the ear being 
 placed at the opposite nose, a hissing sound is heard, you 
 may be sure a flaw exists somewhere. Should it be about 
 the centre, no harm may arise ; but if -within a short 
 distance of the shoulder, which is the chief bearing part, 
 it is a great source of danger." 
 
 " As to accidents to coaches," resumed Jem, " they are 
 almost always to be traced to carelessness either in the 
 builders, the drivers, or the horsers of them. How many 
 proprietors keep on a night coachman, when they know he 
 is drunk on his box four nights in the week, although, to 
 be sure, this part of the business is not so bad as it used to 
 be, in my early days ! It was a chance, then, to find a 
 night coachman quite sober. Then how many proprietors 
 keep on a restive horse, sooner than lose a few pounds by 
 getting rid of him to the best bidder ! Again : what 
 cripples will some on 'em put on the mails over the middle 
 ground ! A gentleman once told me, that he was on the 
 box of one of the cross country mails, when, after passing 
 a very awkward bridge, on a dark and foggy night, the 
 coachman said to him : — ' Well over that 'ere bridge, sir ; 
 there^s only one eye among us,^ which, of course, was his own. 
 But only think, sir, of four blind horses for night work ! " 
 
 " Give us a few maxims, Jem," said Frank Baby, " by 
 the observance of which you have succeeded so well in 
 keeping your coach on her legs." 
 
 " They are few and simple, sir," replied Jem ; " but, 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 305 
 
 mind ye, I haven't had much practice of night work, my 
 lamps being only lit for an hour or two in the dead of the 
 winter ; but you shall have what you wish. First of all, 
 I examine my coaches before they leave the builder's 
 yard, to see that the best kind of stuff is put into them ; 
 and I am very particular about the pole fitting tight in 
 the futchels. Once a pole begins to swag in the futchels, 
 a little thing breaks it ; and, mind ye, it is one of the 
 main stays of a coach ! — what th.e rudder is to the ship. 
 Then I never drive a shying horse as leader, if I can help 
 it ; but if he is too slight for the wheel of our coach, or 
 will not work well in that place, I always put a mope 
 over his face, which prevents his seeing anything beyond 
 a few yards of the road under his feet, and that's quite 
 enough. A coach-horse don't want to be a-looking about 
 him, no more than the man who drives him, unless it be 
 at his road. I am_ very particular about my harness — 
 about the reins and billets. I watch the wearing parts, 
 and have them cut out and replaced in time, and 1 make 
 my horse-keepers beat the collars and keep them clean, so 
 that, in spite of the heavy loads my coach carries, and the 
 steep hills on our road, I never have a gib-horse, because 
 I never have a sore shoulder. In short, I hates to see a 
 broken skin about a coach-horse, and he never need have 
 one, if his coachman minds his business. Poor th ings ! 
 coach-horses have too often punishment enough in their 
 work, without being nearly flayed alive, as they are in 
 some hands. As for mine, they are as round as balls, and 
 as free from scars as you gentlemen's hunters are ; indeed, 
 people say I shall spoil the coach^ by nursing them too 
 much, and not galloping headlong, as some of t'others do 
 on this road. But see what happens ; scarce a week but 
 one on 'em goes over. A gentleman comes up to me t'other 
 day, and says, 'Jem, what will you take me to Birming- 
 ham for ? ' ' My fare, sir,' said I, ' is fifteen shillings.' ' I 
 can go by the Eora (Aurora),' said he, 'for ten.' 'No 
 doubt, sir,' I replied, ' but then there's the doctor's bill ! ' 
 He went with me, and that very day they had an accident 
 with the Rora." 
 
 " Of what description ? " asked Lord Edmonston. 
 ^ " They was a-galloping, my Lord, against the opposi- 
 tion, which was just behind them, and over they went." 
 
 " And was anyone hurt ? " 
 
 1 Which he did. 
 20 
 
3o6 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 " Several, my Lord." 
 
 " Of course the opposition stopped to afford assistance 
 to the passengers." 
 
 " Not a bit of it, my Lord ; one gentleman told me that, 
 as he was in the act of rolling away from the coach, he 
 heard the oj^position coachman sing out to the other, as 
 he galloped by — 'What, Joe, your bees are a-swarming 
 this fine morning, are they ? ' Then again," resumed 
 Jem, " I takes a precaution that, perhaps, few others does. 
 On my two worst hills, I gives the man who looks after 
 the road, a pot of beer, now and then, to leave a few 
 yards of loose stone or gravel in two, or perhaps three, 
 places on the near side ; when I feel the coach press on 
 the wheel-horses going down these hills, I run her into 
 this loose stone, or gravel, and, if it don't quite balance 
 her, it so far checks her as to make all safe. Then, as 
 this prevents my putting on the skid, I can let 'em go 
 towards the bottom, and " 
 
 " Let them avail themselves of the impetus of motion — 
 the vis vivida, as we call it," observed Lord Edmonston. 
 
 "7 calls it cheating 'em out of half the opposite hill," 
 said Jem. 
 
 "You have had your share of kickers, I suppose," 
 observed Webber. 
 
 " Not lately," replied Jem. " My master and I are old 
 acquaintances now ; I can pick my stock a little ; and 
 depend on't I don't pick out a kicker. But when I was 
 a-going over, I didn't think much of kickers, dangerous as 
 they are. If leaders, I always had a ring on the leading- 
 reins, between the head turrets of the wheelers and the 
 pad turrets of the leaders, so as to prevent their getting 
 under their tails ; and if at wheel, I took care to have a 
 right strong kicking trace over their backs. I got tired 
 of carrying a wheeler on the pole, one day ; and as for 
 leaders, I have had their legs so fast, either among the 
 bars, or among the pole-chains, that I more than once 
 thought I must have got a saw to work to get them out. 
 Never keep a kicker, Mr. Raby, he gives no notice ; a 
 mere pinch of a pad, or even a twist in his trace, sets him 
 off ; and he cares not where he runs you, till he has had 
 his kick out. Depend on't he'll never leave it off, for his 
 real meaning is — he don't like work, and he wants to kick 
 himself out of harness at once. And be sure always keep 
 your own side on the road — ■ — " 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 307 
 
 Jack Wehher — interrupting him — 
 
 "Tlie rule of the road is a paradox quite, 
 I confess I have thought it so long : 
 If you go to the left you are sure to go right, 
 If you go to the right, you are wrong." 
 
 " I am not much of a man for ijoetry" resumed Jem ; 
 "but never throw a chance away in coaching, for, 
 remember, other limbs and lives are in your care besides 
 your own. Never run too near carts, and waggons, and so 
 forth. The horses in them may bolt towarcls you, and 
 catch hold of you before you can get away from them — 
 especially if your team is not one of the handiest. But, 
 mind this — wherever your leaders' bars can go, your 
 wheels can go, without touching, with something to spare 
 — that is to say, provided your leaders are on the collars 
 at the time. I was once in a nice scrape by going too 
 near a cart in which two horses ran abreast of each other 
 before the shaft horse. The trace of the off horse caught 
 my roller bolt, and thus we were locked together as fast 
 as if we had been in the same vice." 
 
 " And how did you get out of it 1 " asked Webber. 
 
 " Why, by a bit of good luck," replied Jem ; " the cart- 
 horses kept pace with me, till they got blown, and then 
 stopped of their own accord ; the driver was in the cart, 
 without reins, and had no command of them. It cured 
 me of running too near a team of powerful horses. 
 
 " But to show you how soon an accident may happen to 
 a coach, and from what a trifling cause, I will tell you 
 what happened to a fellow-servant of mine about a dozen 
 years back. The collar of his box coat was fastened by 
 what is called a hook and eye ; having occasion to stroke 
 his chin with his right hand, on which was a strong glove, 
 with a hole in it, the hook entered the hole, and held his 
 hand fast. The horses bolted at the moment towards the 
 near side of the road, which, being deprived of the use of 
 his right hand, he had not the power of preventing, and 
 the consequence was, that his coach was upset, and one 
 passenger killed and several badly hurt." 
 
 On arriving at the house where Jem Powell had been 
 picked up, he was taken leave of by the party, our hero 
 slipping a five-pound note into his hand, as he gave it a 
 hearty shake ; and the fresh team being put to the coach, 
 within a minute of the time allowed they were at the hall 
 
3o8 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 door of their owner, with scarcely a wet hair on their 
 skins, a cool breeze from the north having met them 
 point-blank for the last five miles. In the course of the 
 evening, the doings of the morning were talked over, 
 much in the following strain : — 
 
 "Well, Eaby," said Hargrave, "we have spent a very 
 pleasant day. Peyton is the same straightforward good 
 sort of fellow as he was when we first became acquainted 
 with him ; and how complete is his establishment in 
 everything ! " 
 
 " There is no better," said Jack Webber, " take it 
 altogether, and there is a workman at the head of it, 
 which is everything. As a horseman and a coachman 
 Peyton has not met his equal. And is not old Jem 
 capital, with his broad-brimmed hat and copper-coloured 
 weather-beaten mug and his lingo? No person could 
 mistake his calling ; and how quaintly, yet to the purpose, 
 does he express himself on all subjects on which he speaks ! 
 He has been an excellent servant to Costar, and is highly 
 respected on the road.^ Have you enjoyed yourself to- 
 day, Edmonston ? " 
 
 "It would have been impossible not to have done so," 
 replied his Lordship. " In the first place, it was one of 
 the finest mornings I ever saw in my life, and I delight in 
 a fine spring morning above all things. I always think 
 that the same animal pleasure which makes the bird sing, 
 rises sensibly in the heart of man." 
 
 " Give me a November morning," interrupted Somerby, 
 " and music of another sort than the chirping of birds and 
 bleating of lambs. This is all very well for your pastoral 
 poets to sing about ; but, as Forrest says, there is no such 
 melody to the ear of a sportsman, with a good stud of 
 hunters in his stable, as the clinking of women's pattens 
 in the Melton streets on a dark night in December." 
 
 " Every man to his taste," resumed Lord Edmonston ; 
 " all these things are very well in their way, if not carried 
 too far. I see no objection, for example, to a gentleman 
 driving his own coach, provided he do not lose caste by 
 transforming himself into a coachman. But, I repeat, the 
 love of the pursuit does not admit of his going to extremes. 
 We debase ourselves by imitating servants in the first 
 place ; and, in the next, by exalting them to something 
 
 1 It is to be lamented that there is no print in existence of this 
 thorough-bred coachman, who was the beau-ideal of his caUing. 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 309 
 
 like an equality with ourselves, we make them conceited, 
 and, consequently, destroy subordination. And the ex- 
 ample is often injurious to very young men. I knew 
 one, very well connected, and with good prospects before 
 him, who began by affecting the character of a coachman, 
 and ended by adopting it, to the great mortification of his 
 family." 
 
 " You are hitting me under the bars," said Jack Webber, 
 with one of his good-humoured smiles. 
 
 "Present company are always excepted," replied the 
 peer ; " besides, you have resumed your place in society, 
 which, indeed, you can scarcely be said to have lost ; for 
 I know that, when you took it into your head to turn 
 coachman, you never forgot that you were a gentleman. 
 Indeed, I have been told that you were the cause of 
 working a reformation amongst your brethren of the whip 
 on the Brighton road." 
 
 " As for myself," resumed Jack Webber, " I was never 
 happier than during the three years I was a coachman, 
 and I wish the next three years of my life may be as well 
 and profitably employed. The devil, they say, always 
 employs an idle man, but I was too busy for him, and he 
 left me alone. Idleness is the parent of all vice, both in 
 man and beast ; and, when I had done my day's work, I 
 was seldom inclined for any mischief. A newspaper, or a 
 book, with one glass of grog, after my supper, and then 
 the night-cap, formed my almost daily course." 
 
 " But, Frank," said Lord Edmonston, " with these studs 
 of yours, both for the field and road, when will you be 
 able to find time to comply with the wishes of your late 
 uncle and father, and take a tour on the continent 1 You 
 will find good account in it. You need not adopt the 
 peculiarities of one country or another ; but, rely on it, 
 travelling is very essential to men who are to live in the 
 world : it not only enlarges the mind and improves the 
 understanding, but it frees it from prejudices, which is 
 a great point gained. In the last page of a diary kept by 
 my father, when he went the grand tour, is this sentence : 
 — ' I am truly glad that I have taken the advice of my 
 father, though sorely against my will, to take this tour. 
 It has dispelled prejudices, short-sightedness, and caprice, 
 to which I was previously addicted. With change of 
 place, I found my ideas were changed, as also my opinions 
 and feelings ; and, having reflected on much that I saw 
 
3IO THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 and heard, I returned to my own country a more chari- 
 table and a better disposed man than I had left it.' " 
 
 " I have not made up my mind on this subject," replied 
 Eaby. " It is true, my uncle suggested a tour on the 
 continent, but perceiving I did not exactly respond to his 
 suggestion, he no longer pressed it. I have conversed with 
 several of my friends, senior of course to myself, who 
 have been abroad for longer or shorter periods, and they 
 assured me that they all suffered during the first half of 
 the time from what the French call la maladie du ixiys^ 
 the result of their regrets for having left their homes and 
 friends ; and, during the second, from a perpetual long- 
 ing to return. To those young men who labour under a 
 sense of weariness and satiety of the good things they 
 enjoy in England, and who have no active pursuits, a 
 sojourn abroad may be an agreeable and healthful change : 
 but by a person, who, like myself, has a pursuit for every 
 day in the year — whose wish is to live the life of a country 
 gentleman and a sportsman, and who has no desire to 
 breathe the unwholesome and somewhat tainted atmo- 
 sphere of courts, little advantage is to be gained by it." 
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 The B.D.C. and B.C.M. Our Sportsman makes a tour, in which 
 he visits many of the most celebrated fox-hunting estabhsh- 
 ments in England. 
 
 OUR hero's next move was to London, where he had 
 apartments taken for him at one of the best hotels, 
 in the best part of the town, and stabling for twelve 
 horses in a mews hard by. As may be imagined in so 
 young a man, he was occasionally to be seen in the streets 
 and the park with his team, in the latter, indeed, always 
 on Sundays ; but he generally preferred the public roads, 
 especially the one on which his education for a coachman 
 had been completed, that to Windsor and Eton; and 
 twice a week, during his sojourn in London, he gave a 
 dinner to his party at the Castle Inn, Salt Hill, bringing 
 them back to town in the evening, performing the ground, 
 with a change at Hounslo^v, in two hours, to a minute. 
 Richmond was also another of his favourite rendezvous, 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 311 
 
 where two or three others of the amateur coachmen of 
 his day assembled, and where excellent hand-in-the-pocket 
 dinners were partaken of by the passengers which each 
 brought down — first-class men in their line, of course. 
 But, it may be asked, were there no mishaps on the road 
 from this after-dinner work, with well-bred and highly- 
 fed cattle (the expressive epithet "spicy," was not then 
 in the vocabulary) ? Not often. A pole was broken one 
 night between Brentford and London, by an amateur 
 working for his amateur friend, and who dropped one of 
 his reins, although a very good coachman ; and on another, 
 owing to a holt on the shoot from off Kew Bridge, a 
 singular accident occurred. No sooner did the horses 
 feel the drag press upon them, than they got the better 
 of their driver, also a first-rate workman, and were only 
 pulled up by coming in contact with some iron paling, 
 enclosing a gentleman's grounds. " A dreadful smash, of 
 course — a case for the coroner ! '"' methinks I hear my 
 reader exclaim. Two horses were killed, it is true, but 
 the Corinthians escaped, with the exception of one, who 
 was actually impaled on the iron spikes on which he fell ; 
 but, hard as Corinthian brass, he was not killed, and in 
 a few weeks recovered. Then, on another occasion, in 
 returning from Salt Hill, our hero had a narrow escape, 
 as had also the party who were on his coach. His horses 
 got the better of him, and where, reader, would you 
 suppose they were pulled up ? You would never guess, 
 so you shall hear at once. — Between the eight horses of the 
 doivn Exeter waggon! Miraculous as it may appear, 
 neither man nor horse was injured to any serious extent. 
 The fact was, what are called " the stretchers " — rods 
 about the thickness of a mop handle, which were attached 
 to each pair of the waggon-horses, to prevent their lean- 
 ing toward each other in their v/ork — checked the career 
 of the horses, as they broke their way through them, and 
 so far modified the collision between the waggon and the 
 coach, as to cause no further damage than breaking the 
 pole of the latter, and hurting two of the horses. 
 
 It was during this visit to London that Frank Raby 
 was elected a member of the B.D.C., at that time held at 
 the small town of Benson, in Oxfordshire, but afterwards 
 removed, on account of the distance from London, to the 
 Black Dog Inn, at Bedfont, a small village fourteen miles 
 from London, on the Great Western Road, then kept by 
 
312 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 a person named Harvey, famous for his beefsteaks, as 
 also for the fish sauce \yhich still bears his name. It was 
 composed of about thirty members (at least seventy have 
 been numbered since), including the best and most 
 experienced amateur coachmen of those days, at the head 
 of whom was the great John Wall, the father of the field 
 and the road, as he was even then called in the sporting 
 world ; and a curious circumstance occurred on the first 
 day of our hero making his appearance at it. George 
 IV., then Prince of Wales, was changing horses at the 
 door of the inn at which the club dined, and was in- 
 formed that his health was that moment about to be 
 drunk by the members, with three times three. The 
 Prince afterwards acknowledged the compliment to one 
 of the party, at Carlton House, adding — "Was not old 
 John Wall among you?" On being answered in the 
 afiirmative, he replied — " I thought I knew his halloo." 
 Then there was another well-known and amusing 
 character, a member of this club. His name was Price. 
 His scene of action was on the Great Western Eoad, on 
 which he worked, as an amateur, nearly as regularly as 
 any coachman upon it. But it is for this evening's 
 exjDloits that his fame is recorded here. After five bottles 
 of hock, which he could put under his waistcoat, at a 
 sitting, without being much affected by them, he would 
 fill a bumper, and, placing the glass to stand on his head, 
 he would sing a song, in which the names of every coach- 
 man and horse-keeper employed on a certain coach from 
 London to Plymouth, were introduced. Nor was this all, 
 he would, at the same time, go through the manoeuvres 
 of hitting wheelers and leaders, without spilling a drop 
 of his wine ; and after he had drunk it ofi^, he would run 
 the empty glass up and down the large silver buttons of 
 his coat, with very singular efi'ect. Then the following 
 anecdote speaks to the prevalence of his ruling passion 
 for the coach-box. At the time to which we have been 
 alluding, the French revolution was raging in all its 
 horrors. The subject being discussed in his presence, he 
 took a letter from his pocket, and thus addressed those 
 who were present: — "What's the French revolution to 
 me ? Here is Bill Simmons, the first man that ever drove 
 the Exeter mail out of Exeter, turned over to the heavy 
 coach, and against his will. Noiv, that is what I call a 
 revolution I " 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 313 
 
 There was another club formed at this time, of which it 
 may be imagined our hero was anxious to become a 
 member, and the character he had acquired in society at 
 once secured him his election ; for, as Johnson said to 
 Burke, who recommended a candidate for the Literary 
 Club as a man of gentle manners— '■'■ no more need be said." 
 The one now alluded to was generally called either the 
 " ^Vhip Club," or the " Four-in-hand Club," but its real 
 title was the "Four-horse Club." Their first meeting 
 was held in April 1808 ; and they assembled, afterwards, 
 every first and third Thursday in May, and the same 
 in June, at the house of their president, in Cavendish 
 Square, whence they drove in procession to Salt Hill, on 
 the Bath road, where they dined, alternately, at the two 
 capital inns for which that delightful village has been so 
 celebrated — one of them, indeed, especially so, as having 
 been the scene of the destruction of thirteen persons in 
 one day, from eating mock turtle soup, which had been 
 left to stand a night in a copper vessel not properly 
 tinned. Two guineas a head was the price of these 
 dinners, and the utmost good fellowship prevailed at 
 them. Neither were themselves only considered ; their 
 charities to coachmen and guards in distress were largely 
 dispensed, and they were the chief means of establishing 
 the " Benevolent Club," which, to this day, is the refuge 
 of such of that class of persons as are unable to get their 
 living in their calling — that is to say, such as had the 
 foresight to enrol their names on its books. In fact, 
 there was nothing that could be cavilled at in the 
 proceedings of this club, unless it might be the somewhat 
 unnecessary parade of the procession, which generally 
 contained at least a dozen teams, each bond fide member 
 having an honorary member on his box. Not much, 
 however, could be said against this ; it afforded a splendid 
 spectacle on a fine June morning, each member vieing 
 with his neighbour in the elegance and 'propriety of his 
 turn-out ; and it may in truth be said, that neither before 
 nor since has its equal been seen in any country in the 
 world, for the excellent workmanship of the carriages and 
 harness, and the superior class of horses that were attached 
 to them. 
 
 As may be supposed, all eyes — at least all those of the 
 members of the Four-horse Club — were upon Frank Baby 
 and his team, as he entered the square on the first 
 
314 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 morning of his appearance ; neither were they, in any 
 res]3ect, disappointed. His coach was new for the 
 occasion ; his harness — patent leather for pads and 
 winches was not then known — as clean and as shining as 
 Lord Salton's coachman's blacking could make it ; an 
 extra pound of soaj) had been used that morning on the 
 horses ; and, by way of a finish, the manly and handsome 
 person of the owner, becomingly dressed for the occasion, 
 and with a well-selected bouquet in his breast, produced 
 the coup. By his side sat his friend Hargrave, elected an 
 honorary member of the club ; and his team — the picking 
 of his stable, of course, having the black piebald off leader 
 — was pronounced all-sufficient and business-like, although, 
 as might have been expected, not first-rate ; the premier- 
 ship having been awarded to that of Sir John Inkleton, 
 which time and better judgment had rendered perfect. 
 But having mentioned his blacking, we must not pass 
 over the crack team of those times — that of the Earl of 
 Salton, who, although not a member of the club, generally 
 was on the look-out for the procession, and being, by the 
 su23eriority of his cattle, able to give any of the members 
 the go-by when he pleased, would occasionally amuse 
 himself by so doing. 
 
 It may be gathered, by what has been said of him, 
 that Lord Edmonston — although a young nobleman of 
 a highly honourably character, uniting prudence with 
 liberality to a degree not often experienced at his period 
 of life, and, as may also be recollected, not only a kind 
 friend, but an affectionate and serviceable monitor to our 
 hero in the hour of need, although he was at that time 
 little known to his Lordship — was neither a practical 
 coachman nor sportsman — beyond driving his own curricle, 
 in the one case, and joining the hounds of his neighbour- 
 hood, in the other ; not so much, perhaps, from the love 
 of hunting, which he did not profess to understand, as 
 for the exercise and society Mdiich the noble pursuit 
 afforded him. At a dinner, then, given by ,Sir John 
 Inkleton, a day or two after one of the processions of the 
 Eour-in-hand Club had taken place, and at which, by the 
 introduction of Frank Baby, his Lordship was one of the 
 guests, the conversation having turned upon the doings 
 of this very celebrated club, he was thus heard to speak of 
 it:— 
 
 " It may be all very well," said his Lordship, " for 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 315 
 
 gentlemen to drive their own carriages, wheresoever and 
 whensoever they like ; but it strikes me that there is too 
 much system in the proceedings of the Four-horse Club. 
 There is, likewise, in the dress of the members, too great 
 a desire to imitate the public coachmen, to the detriment 
 of their own caste, as well as of their personal appearance. 
 I rather give the preference to the Benson Club, inasmuch 
 as the gratification arising from the pursuit is equally 
 enjoyed by the members, but in a quieter way, and 
 stripped of all display." 
 
 "There is some justice in your remarks," observed Sir 
 John Inkleton ; " still, I am disposed to believe that 
 much more of good than of harm has been the result of 
 both of those clubs. That great improvement has taken 
 place in coach travelling during the last few years — a 
 point of immense importance to a commercial country, 
 which England is — in its various branches and depart- 
 ments, no one will feel disposed to deny ; and coach 
 proprietors are entitled to their meed of praise for their 
 exertions in aiding the good cause. I am, however, bold 
 enough to assert that not the least, if not the principal 
 efficient cause has been, the great interest taken in all that 
 concerns what is called the road, by men of fortune and 
 judgment. Men of mathematical and classical education, 
 indeed, of refined manners, and possessing humane 
 feelings, have made the working of a coach, drawn by 
 four horses, their study, as well as their amusement ; and 
 although grave old codgers have laughed at them, editors 
 of newspapers pitied them, and fine ladies felt shocked at 
 them, the public have reason to thank them, travellers to 
 pray for them, and the noblest of the brute creation, had 
 they the faculty of sj^eech, might pour out their gratitude 
 for the benefits they have received at their hands. In the 
 first place, they pointed out the cruelty of enforcing, in 
 the low-bred horse, the sjDeed and powers peculiar only to 
 those possessing a certain portion of high blood. Secondly, 
 harness, if ill-constructed, independently of being unsafe, 
 is more tormentingly punishing to horses than all the 
 whipping that can be applied to them. The members of 
 these clubs improved this in many particulars, of which, 
 without practical experience of the defects, they never could 
 have been judges, and of which, in too many instances, 
 coach proprietors and their servants wer«. too careless or 
 too ignorant to be informed. In short, tu the amateur 
 
3i6 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 coachmen of England Englishmen are greatly indebted. 
 To them we owe the improved manners as well as morals 
 of modern road coachmen, amongst whom they have 
 excited a wholesome spirit of emulation, a creditable 
 style of dress and address, as well as honest pride in the 
 condition of their horses, cleanliness of their harness, and 
 so forth. Coach travelling is, as it were, metamorphosed 
 into something approaching to luxury, from a tedious and 
 disgusting labour ; and a modern stage-coach is become a 
 beautiful object on our roads, in the place of an unwieldy 
 machine, at variance with mathematical principles. There 
 is an increase of speed with a diminution of danger — a 
 great point gained, and to the accomplishment of which 
 the improvement in axle-trees and wheels has most 
 materially tended. 'Dry wheels make wet horses,' is a 
 proverb on the road ; and independently of the safety of 
 the patent box, in which the arm of the axle-tree rests, 
 the lubrication of it by the constant flow of oil, by 
 reducing friction, is nearly equal to half a horse's 
 draught. I am quite sure, then, that it adds much to the 
 pleasure of the members of those clubs, and to other 
 amateurs of the coach-box, to reflect that, whilst driving 
 their own fine and well-appointed teams, they are affording 
 instruction and example to their humbler and hard- 
 working fellow- creatures, as well as performing a patriotic 
 and public good ; and as for the too common but erroneous 
 opinion amongst certain classes of society, that a man 
 cannot frequent a public coach-box without being morbidly 
 infected in manners and good taste, by coming in contact 
 with one very much his inferior, the notion is too absurd 
 for even a comment. Did the learned Dr. Paley suffer, 
 either in his manners or his morals, by conversing, as was 
 his custom, with every artificer he could get hold of in his 
 walks ? No, the case is quite otherwise ; and those public 
 coachmen who have come most in contact with amateurs 
 in their line, are uniformly improved by so doing ; — they 
 are better coachmen and better men. You hear from 
 them no ill language, no gross and offensive expressions 
 — to the female ear especially ; and what is of still more 
 importance, you are not disgusted by insolence to the 
 inferior class of passengers on their coaches ; neither are 
 your feelings outraged by unnecessary cruelty to the 
 animals placed under their control, and, by consequence, 
 at their mercy. I was gratified, indeed, by an answer 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 317 
 
 strongly corroborative of what I have asserted, which I 
 lately received from one of them to my remark, that a 
 leader in his team trotted along before the bars, doing 
 little beyond carrying her harness. ' She cannot work, 
 Sir John,' said her coachman ; ' there is nothing left in 
 her but a good heart, and I do not like to whij) that out 
 of her.' I made no reply ; but I silently put up a prayer, 
 that neither the head nor the heart of that man might 
 ache on this side of eternity, and that the humane 
 expression would be found booked to his credit on the 
 other." 
 
 " You have advocated your cause ably," said Goodall ; 
 " and although no coachman myself, I can neither discern 
 folly, nor anything approaching to impropriety, in gentle- 
 men driving their own coaches, and entering scientifically 
 into the pursuit, as others do by that of the turf. All 
 that I have read on the subject upholds them. If the 
 Athenians, for example, the most polished nation of all 
 antiquity, deemed it a feather in their caps to be esteemed 
 skilful charioteers, why should Englishmen consider it a 
 disgrace ? Does not Homer make his Nestor the wisest 
 man and the best coachman of his day ? Does he not 
 make Priam put, with his own hands, his own horses to the 
 car in which himself and the herald demand the body of 
 Hector ? Is he not blamed, indeed, for dwelling upon 
 the description of Juno's chariot, whilst his reader 
 expects him to lead him into the thickest of the 
 battle ?— 
 
 'For why should Homer deck the gorgeous car, 
 When our raised souls are eager for the war? 
 Or dwell on every wheel, when loud alarms, 
 And Mars, in thunder, call the hosts to arms ? ' 
 
 But is he not so minutely faithful to this part of his 
 subject, that, at the funeral games of Patroclus, he re- 
 presents Menelaus borrowing one of the horses of 
 Agamemnon (^the, by name, I think) to put to his 
 chariot with his own ? Has not the sublimest poet that 
 ever dipped pen into ink immortalized the coachman 
 in song? Allow me, then, to propose that we drink 
 a bumper to ' Success to the Road ! — and to all who 
 patronise and support it.'" 
 
 " With all my heart," said the host. 
 
 " And with all mine," said Mr. Warburton, uncle to the 
 
3i8 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 host, and who was one of the party. " In my younger 
 days I was always an inside passenger whenever I chanced 
 to travel by a stage-coach ; but now I pay extra for the 
 box-place, or a front seat on the roof, for the purpose of 
 hearing the shrewd and often witty remarks of the 
 coachman to those whom he has occasion to address, either 
 in his calling or otherwise. But a friend of mine thus 
 accounts for this shrewdness, as well as quickness and 
 suitableness of reply : — ' It is the 'pace that does it,^ said he 
 — ^ the increased pace at which they travel, and quickness 
 of their changes of horses on the road, which are every 
 day becoming more extraordinary. Philosophers tell us,' 
 added he, ' that wit consists in quickly assembling our 
 ideas, and putting them together in an instantJ Now, as 
 analogy is but the resemblance between things, with 
 regard to circumstances or effects, may there not be 
 something akin to analogy betwixt putting ideas together 
 quickly, and taking one set of horses from, and putting 
 another set to a coach in little more than sixty seconds of 
 time ? Certainly, as far as my experience has gone, the 
 faster the coach, the more sharp and ready has been its 
 coachman with all his remarks and replies, and compress- 
 ing what they have to say in as small a space as possible ; 
 and I witnessed, a short time back, one very laughable 
 instance of it. At the first change out of London, after 
 the coach had stopped, perhaps three-fourths of a minute, 
 a passenger put his head out of the window, and asked 
 the coachman if he could have some breakfast. ' Yes, sir,' 
 he replied (he was at that moment in the act of gathering 
 the reins into his hand, the fresh horses having been put 
 to the coach), ' if you can eat it whilst I can count twenty ' ; 
 and, springing on to his box, he was off, leaving his 
 passenger to his meditations." 
 
 It was in the course of this summer that our hero first 
 attended the renowned Bibury race-meeting, then in the 
 zenith of its glory, and he was elected one of its members 
 nemine contradicente. In fact, he was exactly the sort of 
 person calculated for it. In the first place, there was no 
 lack of means ; in the next, he had purchased a horse in 
 training, said to be likely to win what is called the 
 "Welter Stakes," the best of the meeting, and so called, 
 because the weight carried was thirteen stone for all ages. 
 And he had a twofold object in view, with respect to this 
 horse. If he did not win the stakes, he was convinced he 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 319 
 
 would 'make him a capital liimter, from his great power 
 and size. But who was to be his jockey ? "I will ride 
 him myself," said he ; "I can ride the weight on a light 
 saddle." 
 
 " Surely not," observed Hargrave ; " you never rode a 
 race in your life ; and you are aware that you will have to 
 contend against all the best gentlemen jockeys of the day."^ 
 
 " There must be a beginning to everything," replied 
 Frank Kaby, " as well as an end. It is true I have never 
 ridden a race, but I have seen many ridden, and heard 
 the instructions given to the jockeys, who tried my twa 
 Oaks fillies twice, in private ; and also when they came 
 to the post. I know pretty well what a horse can do 
 under such a weight as mine." 
 
 " And have you backed your horse to win ? " resumed 
 Hargrave. 
 
 " Only to a small amount," replied Raby — "just enough 
 to give me an additional interest in the race. I have 
 taken 200 to 20 against him from O'Hara the ' leg,' whom 
 you see there on the grey horse, with winkers to his bridle." 
 
 It was at this period that George IV., when Prince of 
 Wales, was a constant attendant of Bibury race-course, 
 being domiciled for the week at the Earl of Sherborne's, 
 whose mansion and park are about four miles distant 
 from the course — a beaiitiful grass drive leading from one 
 to the other. As his Royal Highness had a horse in the 
 stakes, he was anxious to see his competitors, and at 
 length cast his eye upon Nameless, which was the name of 
 our hero's nag. 
 
 " What horse is that 1 " demanded the Prince. 
 
 " Nameless, by King Fergus, out of Mary, by Herod," 
 was the answer. 
 
 " He is a fine horse," continued the Prince ; " who rides 
 him?" 
 
 "His owner, Mr. Raby, our new member, sir," said 
 Colonel Leigh. 
 
 " Oh," said the Prince smilingly ; " we have not much 
 to fear from him ; he is a fine young man, and, I hear, 
 very good across a country, for his years, but, if it comes 
 to a race, he will have a poor chance against Lord Solville, 
 and half a dozen of the old hands that are here to-day." 
 
 We will, however, repeat the communication between 
 our hero and his trainer, an hour before the race, and then, 
 give the result. 
 
320 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 " Now, sir, if you please," said his trainer, " the bell 
 has rung for saddling, and you will soon be at work. 
 Excuse my saying a word or two to you before starting, 
 as it will be too late afterwards. Your horse is well, and 
 that is a great point, and I think he will run a good horse. 
 But pray don't be in too big a hurry to get home, which 
 is the great fault of all young race-riders. Your horse 
 will be in a hurry, for he is a free goer in his work ; but 
 you have strength enough to keep him back. But mind 
 this, above all things— don't lie out of your ground, but 
 get away with the front horses, and keep with them as 
 long as you can, and head them at last, if you are able. I 
 do not think you can win ; nevertheless, do not throw 
 away a chance. Take three good pulls at your horse, the 
 last within a distance of home, and if this plan will not 
 enable you to win, it will he your horse's fault, and not 
 your own. Now, let me give you a leg ; and when I 
 have mounted my hack, you shall give your horse a gallop 
 with me, to let him feel his legs. It need not be a long 
 one, for thirteen stone is a cruel weight on a race-horse." 
 
 " It is so," rej^lied Eaby ; " but I approve of the 
 principle; it encourages the breeding of powerful 
 thorough-bred horses, which at present are very scarce. 
 I was at Newmarket in the Craven meeting, and I did 
 not see half a dozen horses in training, equal to my 
 weight over a country." 
 
 Now then for the race. Fourteen horses came to the 
 post, and, after one false start, all got away except one, 
 who reared and fell back upon his rider, but without 
 materially injuring him. Our hero, upon Nameless, got 
 a good place in the ruck, which he kept three parts of the 
 way, riding strictly to orders. In fact, he looked very 
 much like a winner half a mile from home, his hands 
 being quietly down, and the fourth out of six that were 
 in front, with all the rest beaten off. 
 
 "Nameless is winning," roars O'Hara ; "by the powers 
 but I shall lose my £200 ! " 
 
 But Nameless did not win. His rider let him loose too 
 soon, and, forgetting the advice of his trainer, to give him 
 the third pull, was beaten a clear length by the two leading 
 horses, who contested the race to a head — the Prince's 
 horse winning by the admirable jockey ship of Lord 
 Solville. 
 
 And now for the scene at the scales. 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 321 
 
 " You made but one mistake, sir," said his trainer ; 
 " and that was a fatal one. Had you recollected what I 
 told you, and pulled back, or, I should rather say, eased, 
 your horse a little within 200 yards from home, you could 
 not have lost the race. Depend on it, you have the best 
 horse of the field, but you were beaten by being outridden 
 by my Lord and Mr. Burrell, as I feared you would be, 
 if it came to a race, which it did. I never saw finer riding 
 at Newmarket than what my Lord showed us to-day. He 
 took a pull at his horse not a hundred yards from home, 
 and won his race by so doing, for the other horse had the 
 best of it up to that time. Only think what a thing a 
 pull must be to a horse at the end of two miles, with 
 thirteen stone on his back, and in such a fast-run race 
 as this ! " 
 
 "I certainly lost the race," replied our hero, "by 
 omitting the pull within the distance, according to your 
 directions ; but the fact was, my horse appeared to me to 
 be running over his horses, pulling so very hard, that, 
 thinking I had the race in hand, I was unwilling to pull 
 him back, from fear of putting him out of his stroke, or 
 causing him to change his leg." 
 
 " Well, sir," resumed the trainer, " the mischief is done 
 now, and it cannot be undone. I told you, your horse 
 was well, and that he would run a good horse ; but mind 
 this in future — do not only not forget the pull at the 
 proper time and place, but likewise that some horses pull 
 hardest when they are most beaten. Your horse, how- 
 ever, was not beaten ; all he wanted was a moment's ease, 
 when he would have come again, and headed his horses in 
 style." 
 
 It is in the nature of emulation to know no bounds. 
 Our hero was by no means satisfied with his own per- 
 formance ; and excited a little by the remarks of some of 
 the party with whom he dined after the race, that his 
 horse could have won the Welter if he had had a better 
 jockey on his back, resolved on attempting to redeem his 
 credit. Sending for his trainer, then, he thus addressed 
 him : — 
 
 " I should like to run the race over again which I lost 
 to-day ; I think I can beat both those horses by a diff"erent 
 system of riding. I wish you would see the trainer of 
 each as soon as possible, and propose a match — same 
 weight and distance — for 500 guineas a side. Try the 
 21 
 
322 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 Prince's man first, and, if he decline, make the same 
 proposal to the trainer of the second horse." 
 
 " I must obey your orders, of course, sir," replied the 
 trainer, " but allow me first to ask you how you mean to 
 ride your horse, should your offer be accepted ? " 
 
 " I mean to make running from end to end, and not ta 
 wait, as I did before," answered our young sportsman ^ 
 " I am convinced that my horse was the stoutest in the 
 race yesterday, and that, if I had made strong running 
 with him from the post, I should have cut down my 
 competitors," 
 
 "Well, sir," replied the trainer, "I will go and see 
 what I can do to forward your wishes, but I think it my 
 duty to tell you that, for a young jockey, you are about 
 to undertake " 
 
 " We will talk about your duty, &c., at another time,'* 
 said Eaby ; " go directly and see the trainers, as they soon 
 will be in bed. Send for me out of the club-room, and 
 tell me what they say." 
 
 In less than half an hour, the following result was 
 conveyed to him : — 
 
 " I have seen both trainers, Mr. Eaby," said Mr. Lilly, 
 for that was the name of the artist who brought Nameless 
 to the post. "The Prince's man declines, as his horse 
 has a heavy match over his head ; but Bliss says, he 
 doubts not but that Mr. Portmore will accept your 
 challenge, and that you shall have his answer in the 
 morning. But, sir," continued Lilly, " had you not 
 better consider further before " 
 
 " No time for considering now," said our hero ; " I must 
 return to my party, and will see you in the morning." 
 
 As our hero sat at his breakfast, in company with his 
 friends Inkleton, Hargrave, and Goodall, the following 
 note was brought him : — 
 
 " Sir, — My trainer informs me that you propose a 
 match between Nameless and Antonio, same weights and 
 distance, as likewise riders, as for the Welter yesterday, 
 for 500 guineas, p. p. I admire your spirit in making 
 this offer, after the event of yesterday, but, being an older 
 man than yourself, and somewhat more experienced, 
 perhaps, in racing affairs, I think it only fair to say that 
 I ought to give you three pounds. On these conditions, 
 my horse shall be at the post on Thursday, after the last 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 323 
 
 race of the day. — Your early answer will oblige, yours 
 faithfully, &c., 
 
 " A. PORTMORE. 
 "To Fbancis Kaby, Esq." 
 
 " Well," exclaimed Sir John Inkleton, " Portmore acts, 
 as he always acts, the part of an honourable man."' 
 
 " The three pounds may give you the race," exclaimed 
 Hargrave ; " but don't forget the pull." 
 
 " I will back you for a pound or two," said Goodall, 
 "although I know so little of racing as to be almost 
 incredulous as to three pounds being an advantage worth 
 speaking about in such a weight as you propose to carry." 
 
 " My good fellow," said Fairfax, who entered the room 
 at that moment, " the key of the stable-door once lost the 
 trial between two of the iirst race-horses of the day." 
 
 "An old woman's story," exclaimed our hero ; "but 
 (pulling the bell hastily at the moment) I'll have none of 
 his three pounds. I'll run the match at evens, and lay 
 another £500 I win it." 
 
 On the waiter appearing with some letter-paper, and 
 being ordered to send immediately for Lilly, the following 
 answer was penned, and as instantly despatched to Mr. 
 Portmore : — 
 
 " Dear Sir, — I feel, as I ought to feel, the handsome 
 conditions on which you oifer to accejDt my challenge to 
 run Antonio against Nameless, on Thursday, same weight, 
 &c. &c., as in the Welter stakes ; but so satisfied am I 
 that, as far as concerned my horse, it was yesterday, from 
 end to end, a false run race, that I am unwilling to alter 
 the terms proposed by me. Should I be beaten, myself 
 alone will be to blame ; and it may act as a salutary 
 lesson to me through life, not to persist in my own opinion 
 contrary to that of those who are more experienced than 
 myself. I herewith send you the articles of the match, 
 signed on my part, and on your signature being attached, 
 my horse shall be at the post on the day, and at the time 
 stated in your letter. — Believe me, dear Sir, faithfully 
 and obliged, 
 
 " Francis Raby. 
 
 "To the Hon. A. Portmore," &c. &c. 
 
 Within another half -hour, the parties met in the street, 
 and our hero was informed by his antagonist that the 
 
324 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 articles of the match were signed, and already in the 
 hands of the steward ; and in ten minutes more, the 
 following conversation took place between the owner of 
 Nameless and his trainer : — 
 
 " Well, sir," said Mr. Lilly, " I find you have made 
 your match, and I wish we may pull through. I find 
 you will not have the three pounds. I think, sir, you 
 should have taken it. Never throw away a chance in 
 racing. Three pounds at such high weight, to be sure, is 
 not much to get, but it is something. They are betting 
 six to four against us in the town, and I daresay it will 
 be seven." 
 
 " So much the better," replied Kaby, " as I may be able 
 to hedge some of my money, if I alter my opinion of the 
 event by to-morrow — not that I think it likely I shall do 
 so. But what is it, Lilly, that you consider your duty to 
 tell me, respecting the match ? " 
 
 " Why, sir," replied Lilly, " if I understand you right, 
 you are going to perform almost the most difficult act a 
 jockey is called upon to perform. Nothing, next to the 
 struggle of the few last yards between two horses very 
 nearly equal — which we call the set-to — is so difficult in 
 racing horsemanship as making running by a jockey, 
 solely for the benefit of the horse he himself is riding. 
 In other words, it requires the experience of some years 
 in a jockey to be a good judge of pace, that is, of not 
 merely the pace he himself is going, but how that pace 
 affects other horses in the race. And this task is more 
 difficult with some horses than with others, and especially 
 — though this will not be your case — with idle or lurching 
 horses, which, when leading, require urging by the hand 
 or the leg every yard they go. In this case, the jockey 
 works hard to keep his horse going. He has to use his 
 hands, arms, legs, and feet, and occasionally to turn his 
 head round, with all his limbs in action at one and the 
 same moment, and yet not disturb his horse's action ; and 
 all this in addition to great anxiety of mind lest he should 
 upset his horse, and so lose the race. I have heard Frank 
 Buckle say, at Newmarket, that he never knows what it 
 is to be miserable except when he has to make running 
 over the Beacon course, with Sam Chifney and William 
 Clift behind him." 
 
 We will now bring our hero to the post, having profited 
 by the sensible remarks of his trainer so far as to make 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 325 
 
 him aware that he had taken upon himself a hazardous- 
 task ; but feeling convinced in his own mind that he lost 
 the Welter by not making running, he was now resolved 
 to do so, it being his only chance to win. 
 
 " Is your book full, sir 1 " said one of the betting 
 fraternity to him, as he was about to mount his horse> 
 
 "I have no book on the occasion," was the answer ; "I 
 have not a shilling on the event, except the 500 on the 
 match." 
 
 " I'll bet you 6 to 4 against your horse, sir — 120 to 80' 
 if you please, sir," resumed the leg. 
 
 " No,'' answered Raby, in somewhat of a surly tone, and 
 he was immediately lifted into his saddle. As he rode- 
 quietly out of the crowd, towards an open part of the- 
 course, on which he could give his horse a gallop, he was- 
 thus addressed by his trainer : — 
 
 " Now, sir, it will be a great event in your life if you 
 can beat this crack horse with so good a jockey as Mr. 
 Burrell on his back. All I can say of your horse is, he- 
 is well — better, I think, than he was on Tuesday ; and I 
 question whether Antonio has quite forgotten Tuesday's 
 race. Then you will have an advantage to-day, if you 
 mean to make running, which you had not on Tuesday.. 
 You will be able to make your turns — and there are 
 plenty of them on this course — without losing ground,, 
 which you did on Tuesday among the crowd. But pray,, 
 sir, don't forget the pull a short distance from home. I 
 have backed you for a hundred." 
 
 " No fear of that," replied our hero ; " but if it comes 
 to a very near thing at the last, should I use my whip, or- 
 only spur my horse ? " 
 
 " Why, sir," said Lilly, "all good jockeys avoid the use- 
 of the whip as much as possible. When a race-horse is in. 
 the fullest exercise of his powers, and doing his best, it 
 is unnecessary, for it cannot make him do more; but a. 
 severe blow from a whip often does harm, particularly if 
 it falls under the flank, which is a very tender place, on 
 account of the thinness of the skin. Instead of its having; 
 the effect of making a horse extend himself over a large 
 surface of ground, it may have quite a contrary effect,, 
 from his ' shutting himself up,' as we call it, or shrinking; 
 to avoid the blows. The spur, properly used, is a much 
 better instrument for increasing the speed of a horse,, 
 although there are times when the application of the whip^ 
 
326 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 or tlie mere act of flourishing it in the hand, is eminently- 
 serviceable to a jockey — I mean, in case his horse swerves 
 to one side of the course or the other, or towards other 
 horses in the race, or exhibits symptoms of running out, 
 or bolting. To be sure, a jockey ought to be able to use 
 his whip with vigour when necessary, and, like Sam 
 Chifney, with his left hand, as well as with his right, in 
 case of his losing what is called the whip hand, when he 
 cannot use it at all with his right. I would, however, 
 recommend you, sir, not to use your whip at all. Yours 
 is a free-going horse ; he will run his own race ; all you 
 have to do will be to take care not to upset him ; and, if 
 it comes to a struggle at the last, try what the spur will 
 do. I tell all young jockeys, especially, that they may do 
 more harm by letting go one hand from the bridle, to use 
 the whip, than the whip does good. Hold your horse hard 
 by the head to the last ; shake him by the head to rouse 
 him, if it comes to a near thing, and give him a few digs 
 with your spurs." 
 
 The crowd at the starting-post evinced the interest 
 which this race created, and several opinions were ex- 
 pressed. 
 
 " The young one is a bold man," said the Prince, " to 
 -attempt to tackle George Burrell, and on a beaten horse." 
 
 "And to refuse the three pounds!" exclaimed a by- 
 stander. 
 
 " Bring the young one in handsomely, George," said a 
 third. 
 
 " They are off ! Ha ! ha ! " exclaimed an old hand on 
 the turf ; " the young one means to make short work of 
 it." 
 
 " A short life and a merry one," said another, who had 
 laid 7 to 4 against him in fifties. 
 
 " Don't be too sure of that," exclaimed Lilly ; " the 
 blood of King Fergus and Herod is no bad cross." 
 
 " If he can live that pace home," said one who had 
 taken the odds, " he will do : the young one seems to know 
 •what he is about." 
 
 In the form in which they started — the young one taking 
 the lead, followed very closely by Mr. Burrell — did they 
 continue this most interesting and, strange to say, heavy 
 betting race for the first mile and a half, our hero being 
 observed to keep a steady pull upon his horse, without 
 the least appearance of having upset him by the severe 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 327 
 
 play he had made, looking back at his opponent, when a 
 good opportunity presented itself, after the manner of an 
 experienced jockey, and sitting as tight and steady on his 
 saddle as though he and his horse were one. At the last 
 turn of the course, a good half-mile from home, alarm 
 became apparent in those who had backed him to lose, 
 and exclamations such as these were heard : — 
 
 " The young one's hands are doum," says one. 
 
 " Yes, and quiet," observes another. 
 
 " I'll bet an even hundred on the young one," roars 
 O'Hara. 
 
 " Done with you," says Lord Marley. 
 
 " I'll bet 6 to 4 on the young one," roars Nightingale, 
 with a small telescope to his eye ; no one answered. 
 
 " It's all over but shouting," exclaims Lilly ; " Antonio's 
 as dead as a hammer." 
 
 Now, then, for the result. The trainer's figure of speech 
 was not carried out to the letter. Antonio was not dead, 
 but only dead beat. In fact, he was beaten in the first 
 mile, and our hero came in a clear length in front, and 
 without stirring a hand, still less a foot. The congratula- 
 tions of his friends were boundless, as he approached the 
 scales to weigh, and his trainer, Mr. Lilly, seemed as happy 
 as if he had won the Derby. 
 
 " This will do," said he to a friend, as he led Nameless 
 from the scales ; " we shall have this young one another time. 
 But upon my soul he has surprised me ; he seems to want 
 no teaching. How like an old one he talks, and how well 
 he rode this race ! " 
 
 And what said the renowned George Burrell, nearly the 
 best of the Bibury jockeys ? 
 
 " The Prince was in luck," said he, " to win the Welter, 
 with a better horse in the race. Had it been run as this 
 has been run. Nameless would have been a length before 
 us all, and hard held too. He is an extraordinary horse, 
 you may depend upon it. Try and buy him," said he, in 
 a whisper, to a friend who was by his side ; "he will win 
 the Welter next year, to a certainty. I could not more 
 than live with him the first mile and a half, and as to 
 heading him afterAvards, that was out of the question. 
 And he was not badly ridden." 
 
 " Bravo, Frank ! " exclaimed Hargrave ; "you won your 
 race in style. Pity is it that you cannot ride lighter, for 
 you would make a capital jockey in a very short time." 
 
328 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 "Who would have thought it?" grumbled O'Hara ; 
 " bad luck to the garran that I backed ! " 
 
 " Garran ! " exclaimed Lord Marley ; " Nameless is the 
 best horse of the year at this weight. I wish he were 
 mine." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Mr. Eaby," said Colonel Leigh, 
 approaching our hero, as he walked away from the weigh- 
 ing-stand ; " the Prince wishes to know whether you are 
 disposed to part with your horse, and, if so, you will be 
 pleased to name your price." 
 
 " Present my duty to the Prince, sir," replied Raby, 
 " and please to tell his Royal Highness Nameless is not for 
 sale. I intend to make a hunter of him." 
 
 " What ? " exclaimed Fairfax, who was at his elbow, 
 " make a hunter of a horse that could have won one of the 
 best stakes in England this year, and is nearly certain of 
 winning it next ! " 
 
 " He shall never have another plate on his foot," resumed 
 our hero ; "but I hope to see many a good fox killed, on 
 his back." 
 
 It is written of Alcibiades, the Athenian general, that 
 he gave an entertainment to all the spectators who wit- 
 nessed the success of his horses in winning the three grand 
 prizes on the Olympic race-course — a snug little party, if 
 we are to credit the accounts given of the multitudes 
 assembled on such occasions. In humble imitation of so 
 memorable an examjjle, our hero gave a dinner, on the 
 evening of his victory over Antonio, at the Bull Inn, in 
 Burford, to a large party of his acquaintances, at which, 
 in newspaper phraseology, " the utmost conviviality pre- 
 vailed to a very late hour ; " not only, indeed, until the 
 cock crowed on his perch, but until the sun peeped through 
 the blood-red curtains of the bay-windowed banqueting- 
 room of the said Bull Inn. Champagne at a guinea a 
 bottle, and claret at fifteen shillings — the prices charged 
 to some old, and to all young, gentlemen of those days, at 
 race times especially — flowed like water from the limpid 
 stream ; and devilled turkey and bishop, after the Christ- 
 church fashion, formed the topping- up of the feast. In 
 short, there was nothing wanted but another Euripides to 
 celebrate the day by an ode. 
 
 And what were the topics of the evening ? Racing, 
 and nothing else, merely occasionally interrupted by a 
 casual remark on some particular toast. And what the 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 329 
 
 pith of the discussion 1 Why, that racing was very 
 amusing to those who merely witnessed it, but, to those- 
 who engaged in its mysteries, the most uncertain, generally- 
 unsatisfactory, and expensive pursuit that a gentleman: 
 can possibly enter into. The only exception to this opinion 
 was Fairfax (a hundred thousand pounds the worse now, 
 by-the-bye, in expectation, by his father's proceedings on 
 the turf, as already mentioned in these pages), who declared, 
 that he thought every man who possessed money, and a. 
 good head for calculation, 7tiust make money by racing. 
 " Then the breeding of race-horses," added he, " what an> 
 interesting pursuit is that ! " 
 
 " Interesting, indeed," said Sir John Inkleton ; "but I 
 believe the calculation is a hundred and lifty per cent.. 
 loss on all thorough-bred stock, as far as their own 
 intrinsic value is concerned. What they may do when 
 in training is another point, unconnected with the breed- 
 ing of them ; but I believe the calculation is not more 
 than one winner in twenty that come to the post, after 
 all charges are paid. I attended a sale of racing colts 
 a short time back. The two-year colts and fillies averaged 
 ninety-three pounds ; the yearlings fifty-seven. Not one- 
 of the lot was bred and reared for these several sums. 
 And now, Frank," resumed Sir John, "you know you were 
 once nicely diddled by a trainer ; are you certain all has 
 been right throughout with Mr. Lilly and Nameless ? " 
 
 " I have no reason to think otherwise," replied Frank. 
 
 " But why did he tell you to wait on your horses in the 
 Welter race," continued the Baronet, " when you found 
 out, by experience of your horse in only one race, that . 
 stoutness, and not speed, was the best, and that, had 
 you made running, and not waited, you would have won,, 
 and cleverly too." 
 
 " He must be a fool," observed our hero. 
 
 " No fool," resumed Sir John ; " his remarks to you 
 on the second day, when he had backed your horse heavily 
 to win, disproves that charge." 
 
 " Then he is a rogue," said Eaby. 
 
 " I do not go that length," said Sir John ; " but it has ^ 
 an awkward appearance, and a burnt child always dreads 
 the fire." ^ 
 
 "Well," resumed our hero, "whether fool or rogue, 
 concerns me but little. Before this time to-morrow his 
 bill will be discharged, Nameless will be on the road to • 
 
330 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSiMAN 
 
 Farndon, and my racing career will be at an end. In the 
 first place, I do not understand the system, and I have 
 reason to believe it would cost me a very large sum to learn 
 it. In the next, one pursuit of this nature is as much as 
 any man, situated as I am situated, ought to have on his 
 hands at one time ; in my opinion, between hunting and 
 racing there is no difficulty in the choice. In the one, 
 every man you meet with is your friend — in the other, your 
 foe ; which a rival either for fame or money must more or 
 less be considered to be. Besides, I am very partial to my 
 KJoach-box, as well as to the humble but satisfactory 
 pleasures arising from a country life ; and, what is 
 more, one day or another I hope to be a master of fox- 
 hounds. I confess I should like to see myself the winner 
 of a Derby, an Oaks, or a St. Leger, because I am of 
 opinion that wdien once a man enters upon any pursuit, 
 he should not stop until he have exhibited some mark 
 of distinctive excellence ; but the odds against my 
 accomplishing either of these hazardous and difficult 
 undertakings are very great indeed. Then again, I 
 think my father is averse to my being on the turf : he 
 often makes his boast that, with the exception of a 
 nomination to a cup at the county races, the name of 
 Eaby has never been associated with any gambling 
 speculation whatsoever ; and, although j^ou are all aware 
 that I am now independent of him, and must succeed to 
 his estates, should I survive him, I should violate my 
 ieelings by doing anything that he greatly dislikes." 
 
 " Bravo I " said Sir John. " Bravo ! " cried Hargrave. 
 " Fox-hunting and the coach-box against all the racing 
 in the w^orld ! " resumed the former. " Fox-hunting for 
 .ever ! " exclaimed Hargrave ; " and I vote that we clrink 
 it in a buraj)er." The bumper was drunk, and the room 
 I'ang with aj^plause. 
 
 On the following day, this meeting closed with six well- 
 contested races for stakes amounting, in the whole, to 
 £1100, which, when looking back to the parent meeting 
 at Burford, when the horses of the Dukes of Marlborough 
 and Beaufort, Earls Abingdon and Ossory, Lords Ched- 
 worth and Oxford, Messrs. Vernon, Dutton, Pigot, and 
 Foley, all of high blood, and names renowned on the 
 turf," Avere contending, at heats, for a fifty-pound plate, 
 shows what rajDid strides racing has made within the last 
 seventy years, and also how much the value of money has 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 331 
 
 diminislied — at all events, the estimation of it lessened 
 by that description of persons. But nothing in the shape 
 of a race-meeting could have been more delightful than 
 Bibury was at the time in which our hero became a 
 member of the club, composed, as it was, of the first 
 sporting aristocracy of the day, with the heir-apparent to 
 the crown at the head of them, on his cropped roan hack, 
 with merely a pad groom behind him, with his surtout 
 strapped to his back, and discoursing with his associates in 
 all the affability of a private gentleman. And a striking 
 instance of this occurred, as regarded the hero of our tale. 
 
 " Introduce Mr. Raby to me," said his Royal Highness 
 to Lord Solville, as he saw him approaching him on the 
 course ; " he is a fine young man, and I am glad that you 
 have got him into the club." 
 
 The introduction took place on the spot, and the Prince 
 thus expressed himself, in his usual elegantly familiar 
 style, upon this occasion : ^ — 
 
 "" Well, Mr. Raby, you have made your dehut very much 
 to your satisfaction, and I must tell you, to mine. In the 
 first place, I am glad that you have become a member of 
 Bibury ; and, in the next, your trainer gave me the Welter 
 by a false estimate of your horse. You would have beaten 
 me if you had not waited on your horses. However, a 
 jockey should obe}^ orders, you know, Mr. Raby, unless 
 he finds a very good reason for disregarding them. Lilly 
 is a clever fellow, but he certainly made a mistake, which 
 you have great credit for correcting, and entirely on your 
 own judgment. You will be a match for us all in a very 
 short time. And how is your excellent mother 1 I knew 
 Lady Charlotte Raby well, in early days, and once danced 
 a minuet with her. Pray tell her I inquired after her." 
 
 " You do her great honour, sir," replied Raby ; " I shall 
 carefully obey your Royal Highness's commands." 
 
 " So you are going to make a hunter of Nameless," 
 continued the Prince. 
 
 " I am, sir," answered our hero. 
 
 "And a good hunter he will make," said the Prince, 
 •" with so good a horseman on his back." 
 
 Our hero bowed, and the Prince moved on. 
 
 1 There is every reason to believe that the week passed by the 
 Prince, during Bibury meeting, when he felt himself thoroughly 
 •divested of the shackles of state and royalty, was to him the 
 pleasantest of the whole year. 
 
332 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 But a word or two of Lord Solville, who was, as has 
 been stated, at the Prince's side at the moment. The 
 Prince had a horse called Ploughater, that was a most diffi- 
 cult horse to ride. He was not only a determined hard 
 puller in his races, but went very much on his shoulders, 
 with his nose nearly sweeping the ground. It is need- 
 less to observe that a horse of this description required 
 a vast deal of riding ; and it was said at the time 
 that no member of the club, but Lord Solville, could 
 ride him as he ought to be ridden, and hitherto he had 
 never lost a race upon him. On the third day of this 
 meeting, however, his Lordship rode him to his cost. So 
 great was his exertion in pulling him together, in rather 
 a sharply contested race, that no sooner had he dismounted 
 from his back, than a blood-vessel burst within him. 
 Medical aid was resorted to, and on the next day but one 
 his Lordship appeared on the course, on his hack, with a 
 countenance pale and wan, indicative of the loss he had 
 sustained. But mark the pluck of the man ! Ploughater 
 was to walk over for a stake, and his Lordship mounted 
 him for the purpose, despite of the remonstrance of his 
 owner. As it happened, no ill consequences were the 
 result. His Lordship rode as usual at the forthcoming 
 meeting at Bibury, and in a style seldom excelled by the 
 best professional jockeys of the day, and, with a ducal 
 coronet over his head, is now alive and heart-whole, and 
 as good a specimen of an English Duke as England 
 could wish to see. His brother, the Hon. George German, 
 second only to him in the gentleman's racing-saddle, has 
 paid the debt of Nature ; but many of what may be called 
 the bond fide gentlemen jockeys of those days are now alive 
 and well.i 
 
 On our hero's arrival in London, he found the following 
 letter from his father : — 
 
 1 The gentlenieB jockeys of that day underwent all the priva- 
 tions and discipline of those who get their living by riding races ; 
 and it has been observed, that the greater part of them have 
 preserved their health and vigour to an extraordinary degree. 
 The preparation for riding races, however, if not carried to too 
 great an extent, is allowed to be most salutary, and there is a 
 passage in Xenophou's Cyropaedia, in corroboration of this fact. 
 Cyrus never suffered his men to go to their meals, not having been 
 siveated. This, it appears, was effected either by taking them out 
 a-hunting, or by inventing such sports as would surely cause them 
 to sweat. 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 333 
 
 "My Dear Frank, — You are aware that it was the 
 earnest desire of your late uncle, and it is likewise mine, 
 that you should occupy a seat in the senate. It will be an 
 admirable introduction into good society, and give you 
 an importance in your own eyes and in those of others, to 
 which, by circumstances, you are entitled. I have reason 
 to believe a v^ery small sum will secure you a seat for the 
 borough of Riply, and I am willing to find the needful. 
 Let me request, then, that you will immediately proceed 
 thither, and my friend Sir Richard Hartley will propose 
 you to the electors, as well as arrange everything that 
 may be necessary towards securing your return for the 
 borough. Observe, it is not quite a close borough ; but I 
 understand there will be no opposition to anyone put 
 in nomination by Sir Richard. We are all well here. I 
 have heard of your success at Bibury, but know not 
 whether to congratulate you, being no friend to the 
 dangerous pursuit of racing. Out of five of my fellow- 
 collegians who have pursued it, three ruined themselves 
 past recovery. Reflect upon this, and let me have your 
 immediate decision respecting Riply. — In haste, your 
 affectionate father, 
 
 " Andrew Raby. 
 
 " Amstead Abbey, J^me 25th, 1809." 
 
 The following reply to the foregoing epistle was de- 
 spatched by return of the post : — 
 
 " My Dear Father, — It would ill become me to refuse 
 complying, in any respect, with the ' earnest desire ' of 
 either my late uncle or yourself. I have only to say, 
 then, that, although I have not the slightest wish to be in 
 Parliament, nor the slightest idea that I shall be of any 
 use when I am there, beyond a silent vote, nevertheless, 
 I am willing to take the step that seems so near to your 
 heart. I will proceed to Riply to-morrow, or next day, 
 and of course you will write to Sir Richard, and arrange 
 all things necessary with him. The on dit here is, that I 
 am to be opposed by a rich sugar-baker from the city — if 
 so, money will be wanted beyond the mere usual expenses 
 of the return ; and I honestly tell you that, after having 
 gained a victory over the second best gentleman jockey at 
 Bibury, I should not relish being beaten by a city sugar- 
 baker over another course — still less to spend my own 
 
334 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 monej' in the contest. To use your own words, then, 
 touching racing, ' reflect on this.' Suppose, when we come 
 to the post, it should be 6 to 9 on the sugar-baker, and I 
 hear he is not only very rich, but a very sharp fellow, and 
 can make use of his tongue. All things considered, I had, 
 perhaps, better await the answer to this letter before I set 
 forward to Riply. 
 
 "Now then for a word on another subject. You need 
 not longer hesitate as to your offer of congratulation on 
 my success at Bibury. It would have been greater, had I 
 used my own judgment in opposition to that of my trainer, 
 and I should have won the great prize of the meeting, in 
 the room of the Prince of Wales. To show you, however, 
 that I am not vain of my triumph over either horse or 
 man, I have made my bow to the turf, leaving it to those 
 who are better fitted for it than I am — in other words, to 
 those to whose tastes it is more congenial than I have 
 found it to be to mine. There is too much mystery in it 
 to please me ; added to a sort of mutual suspicion amongst 
 its votaries, that all are rogues together. That such is 
 not the case we are well assured, by the numbers of 
 honourable men who are amongst them ; but, to speak the 
 truth at once, I think, compared with fox-hunting, it is a 
 very low pursuit. 
 
 " By the way, the mention of the Prince reminds me 
 that his Royal Highness did me the honour to have me 
 introduced to him ; passed some compliments on my 
 horse and horsemanshii^, and in his usual — I believe 
 inimitable — elegantly familiar style, inquired kindly 
 after my mother, reminding me that they had danced a, 
 minuet together in their younger days. Glad to hear you 
 are well, and remain — Your very affectionate son, 
 
 "Francis Eabt 
 - Bo^-D Street, June 27, 1809." (" ^^-P' ^^ abeyance). • 
 
 The next day but two having brought the answer from 
 Mr. Raby, to the effect that he would find the needful for 
 the contest, should such take place, adding that he was 
 not to be frightened out of his object by a sugar-baker, 
 wealthy as he might be, and how " sweetly soever he might 
 discourse," Frank Eaby ordered four post-horses to his 
 travelling carriage the next morning, and arrived at 
 Riply the same night. On the morrow he called on Sir 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 335 
 
 Richard Hartley, whose fine seat was in the neighbour- 
 hood, and the following was the result of the interview : — 
 
 " Glad to see you at Wortham," said Sir Richard ; 
 " your father seems bent upon your being in Parliament, 
 and on our borough becoming vacant, wrote to me to know 
 whether you, as a friend and nominee of mine, would walk 
 over the'^ course. I told him, in rejDly, I thought you 
 would ; and as to my interest, he made sure of that, on 
 the score of our mutual regard. I have, however, sinc& 
 learnt that an eminent sugar-baker in the city has a mind 
 to aspire to the honour ; and, as he is full of money, he 
 may, perhaps, cause us some trouble." 
 
 " My father has told me as much by letter," replied 
 Frank Raby ; "and I must say I am somewhat surprised 
 at his avowal of being prepared to spend money for my 
 return to Parliament, for which I. have no desire, and^ 
 moreover, I fear I should be of little service to my 
 country when I am there, having no turn for politics." 
 
 "You will not stand alone in that respect," observed 
 Sir Richard, " for the business of the country is, and ever 
 will be, conducted by a few ; but as the effects of a good 
 education sometimes shine brilliantly when least expected, 
 I see no reason why you are not to take your part in the- 
 business of this great country. Your poor uncle Beau- 
 mont would have made a first-rate statesman, if he could 
 have aroused himself into action ; but want of energy is- 
 not your failing." 
 
 " Not in pursuits congenial to my taste," replied Raby ; 
 " no man works harder than I do in the hunting season, 
 but I should not like to be shut up in the House till four 
 o'clock in the morning, and, perhaps, be put on a com- 
 mittee the same day. Then only fancy half a dozen 
 calls of the House in the very best part of the hunting 
 season ! " 
 
 To cut the matter short, we will at once proceed to the- 
 nomination day, and, politics being inadmissible here^ 
 merely give an outline of the proceedings, and jump at 
 once to the result. On a show of hands, a majority 
 appeared for Mr. Raby ; but the sugar-baker demanding 
 a poll, instantly addressed the electors, and with no small 
 effect. He nol only promised them everything that a 
 member of Parliament could obtain for them, but, of 
 course, a great deal more ; and what was left undone by 
 his purse, he endeavoured to effect by his tongue. And 
 
336 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 in truth he was not deficient in the use of it ; for, 
 although his eloquence was of a noisy and boisterous 
 order, consisting more in the vehemence of his utterance, 
 and the violence of his action and gesture, than in the 
 elegance of his style or the strength of his reasoning, he 
 had a readiness of wit, with a kind of low drollery, that 
 took with the populace, although with better judges it 
 only passed for impudence and buffoonery. On the other 
 ihand, the appearance and deportment of his opponent were 
 -quite of a different order. He simply thanked the electors 
 for the preference they had given him in that, the first 
 stage [of the contest — if contest it was about to be — and 
 .assured them that, if they did him the honour to elect him, 
 lie would endeavour to merit their favour. He concluded 
 his address, however, with this pithy sentence : — 
 
 "You have required no pledges from me, gentlemen, 
 ■and you have done wisely, for none would I have given 
 you. If it be your pleasure to return me to Parliament, 
 ^as the representative of yourselves and your interests, I 
 •will endeavour to do my duty ; but I can only consent to 
 be placed there with the liberty to speak my own senti- 
 ments, and vote as my conscience directs me. There is, 
 however, one assurance which you may accept as a pledge. 
 I will, to the best of my ability, support the crown, and 
 the ancient institutions of the realm both in church and 
 state, which the example of a neighbouring country, so 
 lately torn by dissensions in each of these departments, 
 has induced many to assail. I am too young in years to 
 appeal to experience, and my reading, rather than my 
 experience, has led me to believe that there is no certain 
 protection for either person or property under democratic 
 fiway, and that Great Britain is the only nation in the 
 world where liberty is the direct end of its constitution. 
 I can only add, then, Esto perpetua." 
 
 Here voices in the crowd exclaimed — " Go on ! — Look 
 ^t America ! " 
 
 " Well," continued our hero, " I will look at America, 
 .•and to what can I compare her 1 Why, to one of those 
 lofty and umbrageous trees which grow so bulky, and 
 stretch out their branches to such an extent, that the 
 trunk is no longer able to sustain their weight." 
 
 " Well done, the young one I " exclaimed an oldish man, 
 in a leathern apron, having somewhat the appearance of a 
 journeyman shoemaker. " Go on ! " 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 337 
 
 " What were the republics of antiquity ? " exclaimed a 
 better dressed man in black, not very unlike a dissenting 
 minister. 
 
 " Well," observed our young candidate, " I will tell you 
 what they were. They were the mature result of profound 
 political science. In their formation, the deepest re- 
 sources of philosophy were explored ; the most enlightened 
 sages consulted ; and every aid which history, experience, 
 or example of other states could afford, adopted. It is 
 true, they flourished for periods, under the auspices of 
 consummate wisdom and bravery, but their glory, in 
 many instances, was but short-lived. In fact, it was 
 oftentimes confined to the lustre of a single life. For 
 example, the splendour of Thebes commenced with the 
 public character of the celebrated Epaminondas, and de- 
 clined from the moment of his death. In fact, the maxims 
 by which their governments were supported are impracti- 
 cable in a populous country, such as England. They 
 afford too many opportunities for caballing, and betray 
 the mass of the people into rebellion and outrage. Be- 
 tween the patrician and plebeian orders the struggle is 
 ardent and unceasing ; and then look to the result. When 
 the former prevail, despotism ensues; and if the latter 
 succeed, anarchy is the inevitable consequence. Who but 
 a madman would expect to revive the stern politics of 
 ancient nations, without their genius, their extreme 
 austerity, their rigid discipline, and their severe morality ? 
 But one lesson is given us in the construction and pro- 
 ceedings of some of those celebrated commonwealths, 
 which were the wonder and admiration of the world for a 
 long period of years. They preserved their purity and 
 vigour, and reached the summit of unrivalled excellence, 
 not only by instituting the best laws, and executing them 
 in the best manner, but by delegating the power of the 
 community to none hut the best men. Let us not, then, 
 surrender a form of government which has made us happy 
 at home and respected abroad, for one which cannot, 
 under present circumstances, be realized without having 
 a contrary effect. We should substantiate the fable of 
 chasing Juno, and plunging into a cloud. The old family 
 mansion which our forefathers have inhabited so long, 
 may want repair, but those who would level it with the 
 ground, or change it for another, would soon find their 
 mistake." 
 22 
 
33,8 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 " But the taxes ! " says a careworn elector, the father of 
 eleven children. 
 
 " I have an answer for ^om," said our hero, " in a few 
 words. Without taxes you could have no protection, be- 
 cause you could have no Government ; and with reflecting 
 persons, the opportunities afforded to them to rise in the 
 world, in a country whose revenue is so large as ours, are 
 fully equivalent to all they pay. But as to the system of 
 their distribution, complaints will ever be made against it, 
 inasmuch as people are apt to imagine that official duty is 
 never honestly performed but by virtues and abilities 
 above humanity. Now, as you have pressed me to deliver 
 my sentiments, I will tell you what I consider to be the 
 duty of every public man in these times, whether in Parlia- 
 ment or out. He should lend all the aid in his power to 
 preserve the essentials of the British constitution, yielding 
 to such changes only as are by no means likely to put its 
 safety to the hazard ; to repress, as much as possible, that 
 violent propensity to confusion and anarchy which secretly, 
 if not openly, agitates the ignorant and discontented ; to 
 soothe the querulous, and encourage the timid, and dis- 
 appoint and undeceive the daring and ill-intentioned ; to 
 guard every man's right, by showing that no claims are 
 paramount to justice ; and, lastly, to establish the security 
 of property by encouraging all classes in its defence, and 
 impressing on the public mind this great truth, that life 
 is no longer valuable to any man than whilst he continues 
 in the sure and peaceable possession of what he has a right 
 to call his own." 
 
 " Bravo, Eaby ! " shouted at least half of those who heard 
 him. 
 
 From the commencement of the foregoing address, it is 
 apparent that our hero was by no means anxious for the 
 honour that now awaited him, since he was very sparing 
 of his professions, and indeed, even of his words, until the 
 spur was applied to him. But neither professions nor 
 words were wanting; neither the purse of the sugar- 
 baker, nor his humour, could avail against the deeply- 
 rooted interest of Sir Richard Hartley, who, in addition 
 to owning nearly half of the borough, spent £4000 a year 
 in it ; and at the end of the third day's poll, our hero 
 was left to walk over the course, and, consequently, at no 
 heavy expense. 
 
 The visit to Sir Richard — a very good kind of man in 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 339 
 
 his way, but of tastes somewhat uncongenial with those of 
 his young guest, and twice his age withal — being one 
 merely of business, and the object of it being attained, 
 Frank Eaby was in London again as soon as four posters 
 could convey him, and hailed amongst his acquaintance as 
 the new M.P. 
 
 " I would rather be M.F." said he, to some of his friends 
 who were jeering him ; and amongst the hardest hitters of 
 them all was his dear friend Hargrave, who cast these 
 lines in his teeth : — ■ 
 
 " Go on, brave youths ! till, in some future age, 
 Whips shall become the senatorial badge : 
 Till England see her jockey senators 
 Meet all at Westminster, in boots and spurs ; 
 See the whole House, in mutual frenzy mad, 
 Her patriots all in leather breeches clad : 
 Of bets, not taxes, learnedly debate, 
 And guide with equal reins a steed and state." 
 
 "But, jesting apart," resumed Hargrave, "how did you 
 get on upon the hustings ? " 
 
 " Tipped them ' a little jaw,' as we used to say at Eton. 
 I meant to have said less than I did say, but one or two of 
 my constituents, as I suppose I must now call them, would 
 not be satisfied till they had tried me on a point or two 
 touching my principles, as they are called, but they did 
 not get much by it. I only advised them to be quiet and 
 good subjects, and mind the main chance ; and I might 
 have added, mind their own business. For my part, I 
 cannot think what a fellow with a leathern apron before 
 him can know about politics ; but this I do know, that if 
 power were to get into the hands of such fellows, the 
 tyranny of a Nero or a Caligula would be a trifle to it. At 
 all events, the natural form of society would be reversed. 
 The bad would usurp the place of the good, the young of 
 the old, the weak of the strong, the foolish of the wise, the 
 poor of the rich, the servant of his master, and the subjects 
 of their sovereign." 
 
 " And did no metaphorical application of the study and 
 science of coachmanship or race-riding escape you 1 " said 
 Sir John Inkleton jocosely ; " nothing about holding the 
 reins of government with a steady hand, dogging the whecb 
 of administration, or of other nations outstripping us in 
 the race of glory? But tell me, Frank, how did your 
 
340 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 opponent acquit himself? — did he touch on the shop in 
 his speech 1 " 
 
 " Not he, indeed," replied Frank, " but he touched on 
 most other subjects, for he spoke for above two hours. In 
 fact, he appeared to pride himself on his eloquence, and to 
 place his chief dependance upon it ! Indeed, the opening 
 sentence of his speech — and he might as well have told us 
 that Queen Anne was dead — was this : — ' Speech being 
 the faculty which exalts man above the rest of the crea- 
 tion, we may consider eloquence as the talent which gives 
 him the most distinguished pre-eminence over his own 
 species ! ' " 
 
 " Capital ! " exclaimed Sir John ; " and what next ? " 
 " Oh," replied Frank, " I might as well endeavour to 
 remember last year's clouds. He said a good deal about 
 the dearth of good speakers in the House of Commons, 
 declaring that they drowned the poverty of their concep- 
 tions in the excess of fine words, while he himself was 
 dealing out tropes and figures by the dozen, on mere 
 commonplace subjects. But it struck me his favourite 
 figure was the synecdoche, which implies saying one thing 
 and meaning another ; for, although he more than once 
 spoke of 'our good King George,' it is well known he 
 would rejoice to see him dethroned to-morrow, because he 
 refused to make him a baronet. And in the course of 
 his speech he let the cat out of the bag, by quoting from 
 Shakspeare in support of his assertion, that he himself was 
 neither to be bought nor sold — 
 
 '0, how wretched 
 
 Is that poor man, that hangs on princes' favours ! 
 There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, 
 That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, 
 More pangs and fears than war and women have ; 
 And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, 
 Never to hope again,' 
 
 " He, however, concluded his oration with a very sensible 
 remark, and which showed that he has looked into books 
 as well as into sugar, and I question whether he might 
 not make a much better M.P. than myself. When allud- 
 ing to the measures proposed in Parliament, he said, it was 
 the duty of its members, when any great undertaking is 
 proposed, to ask themselves these questions : — ' First, is it 
 practicable? secondly, is it consistent with the interest, 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 341 
 
 the honour, and the safety of the country ? They should 
 then carefully weigh such points as are likely to make for 
 or against it ; — what is to be feared, what to be expected ; 
 — what consequences may be the result of ill success, and 
 how such consequences are to be repaired : — lastly, whether 
 the extent of our risk do not more than counterbalance 
 the probable advantages of the enterprise. When de- 
 liberating upon these matters, those who address the 
 House should examine the subject thoroughly in every 
 point of view — not only real, but possible. After making 
 themselves masters of it, they have nothing more to do 
 than to set forth those circumstances, and to state their 
 arguments for and against the measure with force and 
 simplicity. Here is no room for displaying beauties, for 
 tickling the ear, or soothing the imagination. This may 
 be called an eloquence for service — for which one great 
 man is so distinguished — which, in fact, rejects everything 
 that has more of show than of solidity. All the speeches 
 of Demosthenes to animate the Athenians against Philip 
 of Macedon, are in this strain of vigorous and convincing 
 oratory. In them we find no empty parade of words, no 
 affectation of ornament, no sophistical reasoning. They 
 are rich, not gaudy — brilliant, not glaring — forcing their 
 way to the mind, not by the artifice of insinuation, but by 
 the irresistible energy of truth.' " 
 
 " Upon my word," observed the Baronet, " I am myself 
 inclined to think the sugar-baker would be the most useful 
 man of the two : those are good business-like ideas of his, 
 which you have just quoted." 
 
 " I think so too," replied our sporting M.P., " and wish 
 that he were in my place, and I had the money in my 
 pocket that my election will cost. It would just make 
 my stable complete." 
 
 " Is it not already complete 1 " observed Sir John ; 
 "are not eight good hunters enough for you?" 
 
 " Certainly not for Melton," resumed Eaby ; " and I 
 hope to be settled there next winter, at all events the 
 following one. Nothing under a stud of twelve w^ill do 
 there, and I hope to have fourteen. I have no idea of 
 being seen kicking my heels in Melton streets, when 
 others are out with hounds ; and such would be the case 
 if I had a short stable of horses, with hounds every day 
 within reach." 
 
 "You will outrun the constable," said the Baronet. 
 
342, THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 " No fear," answered Frank ; " I shall live quietly in the 
 country in the summer, to provide for the winter cam- 
 paign ; and as I have given up the turf, and never play 
 for a sixpence, my income will stand the brunt." 
 
 " But Parliament ! " remarked Hargrave — " that will be 
 a pull. You must be a good deal in London." 
 
 " Kot much of that," rej^lied our patriot — " at least as 
 little as I can help. I shall leave such other matters to 
 wiser heads than mine. What would my opinion be worth 
 on the affairs of the Elector of Bavaria, or the convention 
 with Eussia ? " 
 
 Parliament not assembling till the usual period, it did 
 not interfere with the present views of its new member, 
 and when it did meet, nothing further was heard of him 
 than that he had taken the oaths and his seat. The 
 summer, however, was not wasted by him in the doubly- 
 heated atmosphere of London ; but, by the first day in 
 July, he was comfortably settled again at Farndon Hall, 
 with a select party of friends, enjoying the pleasures of 
 the coach-box, together with fishing and cricket, until be 
 took his departure for the Highlands, as he had done in 
 jjreceding years. On his return, in addition to the usual 
 pastime of the trigger during the months of September 
 and October, he entered upon another pursuit, though it 
 did not prove to his liking. Having what he considered 
 a fair kennel of greyhounds, he became a member of a 
 coursing meeting, and contended for some of the prizes. 
 Neither was he unsuccessful ; his dog. Champion, having 
 particularly signalized himself in several severe courses, 
 and was the winner of two cups. But coursing was not 
 to his taste, sufficiently so, at least, as to induce him to 
 enter into it as a science, and w^ithout doing so he con- 
 sidered it must be time thrown away in following it, 
 unless for the sake of what is called the parson's course 
 — namely, "the hare at the end of it." This, however, 
 his keeper was able to provide for him. But he had 
 objections to coursing on several grounds. Firstly, the 
 prodigious number of rules and regulations to be observ^ed 
 — at least considered necessary to be observed — in the 
 running of each course, naturally cause disputes, by the 
 difficulty of observing them — to the satisfaction of the 
 loser especially. All emulative pursuits, he said, produce 
 excitement ; but he contended that he witnessed more 
 anxiety in the owners of greyhounds, when the contest 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 343 
 
 has been for a cup, than in those of race-horses running 
 for the Derby or St. Leger. The difficulty of having the 
 course fairly decided is the chief cause of this excitement ; 
 and a more trying situation than that of the tryer or judge 
 of a first-rate coursing meeting is not often experienced. 
 Secondly, the system of breeding and training greyhounds 
 is so refined that, to excel in each, a man's whole attention 
 should be given to it. At the end of the third year, then, 
 of his keeping greyhounds, he had a sale of them at 
 Tattersall's, where they fetched as good prices as could be 
 expected from the kennel of so young a sportsman as our 
 hero. The history of Champion, however, proved remark- 
 able. He became the sire of more good greyhounds than 
 any other dog of those days ; indeed, it was asserted of 
 him, that he could produce good runners from very in- 
 ferior bitches. This was a pleasing reflection to our hero, 
 inasmuch as it showed that, so far in life as he had gone, 
 he had more or less succeeded in whatever pursuit he had 
 engaged in ; and in the fly-leaf of his greyhound book, in 
 whicli the pedigree and performance of each dog were very 
 accurately entered, were the following remarks, written 
 with his own hand : — " Although many kinds of dogs are 
 as long as the greyhound, yet, from the many curves and 
 circles which he describes in his shape, he excels all in 
 his strides. 
 
 " Fine greyhounds, like fine horses, have a general pro- 
 portion, and a certain elegance of parts ; they abound in 
 muscle, have great length for their height, have their 
 hocks let down to the ground, behind, and standing from 
 them, which greatly increases the angle, have the muscles 
 of the thigh remarkably broad and expanded, with great 
 strength of back, and to supply the want of a long pastern- 
 joint — which speedy horses have — their feet and toes are 
 longer than those of any other dogs. They also resemble 
 the hare in the declivity of the shoulders, and length and 
 strength of the hinder legs, as well as the development of 
 muscle in the loins. In fact, were their frame to be put 
 to the test of geometrical science, I know not in what 
 respect it could be improved as regards the united faculties 
 of speed and endurance." 
 
 Two things will have been observable in the progress of 
 this history — if history it can be called : one, that our 
 hero, although occasionally running riot a little, like a 
 well-bred young hound just entered to his game, possesses 
 
344 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 an amiable disposition, a feeling heart, and strictly honour- 
 able principles, early inculcated in him by his father, his 
 uncle, and Mr. Egerton, which could not fail to guide his 
 conduct through life. The other, that Sir John Inkleton 
 has been, from the first — although perhaps the encourager 
 by his example of too expensive pursuits, namely, the 
 coach-box and fox-hunting — a kind friend to him, by 
 giving him the benefit of his experience in several worldly 
 matters, as likewise in now and then checking the ardour 
 of a youthful mind, conscious that, one day or another, 
 gratification, to almost any extent, would be within his 
 reach. Instances in proof of each of these positions are 
 now about to appear. 
 
 "What are your plans, Frank, for the winter cam- 
 paign ? " asked the Baronet, who paid him a visit at 
 Farndon Hall. 
 
 " I shall go to Melton," replied Frank. 
 
 " Pause for a moment," resumed Sir John, " before you 
 determine upon that step. Kecollect, the state of your 
 stud is not equal to it at present, neither should I think 
 is that of your purse, as you have laid out large sums in 
 purchasing your carriages and coach-horses, furnishing 
 your house, stocking your cellars, &c." 
 
 " But I can borrow what I may want from my solicitor, 
 until that little estate in Hertfordshire is sold," replied 
 our hero. 
 
 " Take my advice," resumed the Baronet ; " do not 
 borrow from your lawyer. Lawyers are necessary agents 
 to men of property ; but the more independent we are of 
 them, the better chance have we of their doing us justice ; 
 and it would not be worth your while to raise money in 
 any other way, until that estate is sold. And, mind, I 
 do not blame you for your intention of selling it, since 
 a small property like that, in a distant part of the country, 
 is not worth keeping ; and the purchase-mouey will not 
 only give you a still better start in the world than you 
 have hitherto had, but, by enabling you to have your 
 income clear, so as to pay your w^ay as you go, you will 
 save twenty per cent, upon everything. Let me advise 
 you, then, to defer your visit to Melton for one more 
 year." 
 
 " But my house and stables, Inkleton ; what must I do 
 about them ? " exclaimed Frank. " I shall have the rent 
 to pay, and nothing for my money ! " 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 345 
 
 " Yon will have nothing to pay," resumed Sir John ; 
 " Holding will take the whole off yonr hands." 
 
 " Sir Frederick, or his brother ? " inquired our hero. 
 
 " His brother," replied Sir John ; " and as you have 
 often said you should like to take what you call a tour of 
 hunting countries, I should recommend you to select this 
 winter for the purpose. As you avow your intention of 
 keeping hounds yourself, you may profit much by the 
 plan I propose. You will be able to observe closely the 
 conduct of both masters and servants in the several countries 
 you visit, profiting by what is good, and marking what 
 you may consider to be the reverse." 
 
 " Your advice is good," replied our hero ; " I will at 
 once act upon it. In the first place, I shall be quite at 
 ease in my mind, from the reflection that I shall not be 
 drawing too fast on my banker ; and, in the next, I shall 
 no doubt profit by what I see in various countries, and in 
 the various sportsmen whom I shall meet in them." 
 
 Shortly after this conversation took place, Frank Raby 
 commenced his tour, fixing upon Cheshire as his start, 
 and for this very good reason : he was informed that the 
 hounds which hunted the country were at that period 
 under the management of a first-rate sportsman of the 
 school of that day, no other than George Home, whose 
 family had been long seated in this aristocratic country. 
 Nor was he misinformed on this subject : he found a most 
 effective kennel of hounds, with a truly scientific sports- 
 man at their head, and he also found — the surest test of 
 merit — that his blood was sought after in some of the first 
 establishments of those days. But for the country he 
 could not say much. Having had a taste of Leicestershire, 
 Northamptonshire, and Warwickshire, he found himself 
 cramped, as it were, in the small fields of Cheshire ; 
 neither were some of his horses at all calculated for its 
 fences, which were, for the most part, hedges placed on 
 narrow banks, or "cops," as they are called there, 
 strengthened by a deep and often blind ditch. This kind 
 of fence not only requires a practised horse, very quick 
 and ready with his legs, as he must spring from the cop, 
 when the ditch is on the landing side, but it also requires 
 a practised and good horseman to get him over it with 
 safety, when he becomes what is termed " pumped out " 
 by the pace. Temper, likewise, and that of a peculiar 
 nature, is almost indispensable here ; that is to say, the 
 
346 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 courage and resolution so desirable in horses who have to 
 face the thickly-set thorn fences of the countries we have 
 just alluded to, are the reverse of what is wanting here. 
 Extreme steadiness is required — amounting, indeed, to 
 slackness — at the generality of the fences we have been 
 describing ; and it being the lot of our hero to have only 
 two of his stud (which consisted of eight hunters and two 
 hacks) possessing these equalities, he never went out with- 
 out a fall. But%e profited by these mishaps in more ways 
 than one. Before he had been a month in the country, his 
 horses were up to every description of trap, in the first 
 place ; and, in the next, he acquired some excellent lessons 
 on the use of the bridle hand from some of the best men 
 in the Hunt ; and from none more to his edification than 
 from one whose calling confined him to the use of the 
 black coat : this was the Rev. James Tomlinson, quite the 
 crack man of the field, being a horseman of the very 
 first class, and a good sportsman withal. Our hero was 
 delighted as well as edified by the manner in which this 
 -gentleman crossed this cramped and difficult country, 
 conceiving him to be a man who would shine in any 
 country, forasmuch as he combined quickness with his 
 judgment of every point relating to hounds ; and his hand 
 was equal to anything. His stud was not large — not 
 exceeding half a dozen ; but, when disposed to sell, they 
 commanded any price. 
 
 It has happened to most men who have ridden after 
 hounds — although not perhaps more than once in their 
 life — to feel a horse take what is called a second spring 
 when in the air. This circumstance occurred one day to 
 our hero, when hunting with the Cheshire hounds, and 
 on mentioning the subject to Mr. Home, he thus delivered 
 his opinion upon it : — 
 
 " I have experienced this extra exertion in a hunter 
 more than once," observed Mr. Home, " but I admit the 
 difficulty of accounting for it. Leaping commonly takes 
 place on a fixed surface, which possesses the power of 
 resistance, in consequence of its firmness ; still, leaping, as 
 we know, can be performed, to a certain degree, from a 
 yielding surface, although the retrograde motion of the 
 surface produces a diminution in the velocity of the leap, 
 compared with that which is made from firm ground. 
 However, here is a fulcrum to spring from in each case ; 
 but how a horse, having once made his spring, has the 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 347 
 
 power to increase the velocity of it, is difficult to account 
 for, unless, as is the case with serpents and such aquatic 
 insects as have long bodies and no tins, he have the power 
 of inflecting the body to a certain extent, and thence 
 acquire an impetus. Swimming and tiying are leaps 
 which take place in fluids, but they are produced by the 
 resistance these fluids make to the impulse of certain 
 surfaces, through which swimming or flying animals move 
 with great rapidity ; but the velocity is necessarily great 
 in proportion to the variety of the medium. The muscles 
 which produce it require, therefore, a force vastly superior 
 to that which is necessary for a simple leap upon a solid 
 surface ; but there is still another requisite for motions 
 which take place in fluids, which the horse does not 
 possess. The body being entirely surrounded by these 
 media, w^ould find an equal resistance on all sides ; and 
 the velocity acquired by striking the fluid posteriorly 
 would soon be overcome by the quantity that must be 
 displaced anteriorly, if the animal had not the power of 
 considerably diminishing its surface immediately after it 
 has struck the fluid — which power, also, the horse has not. 
 I certainly was indebted for the preservation of some of 
 my limbs, perhaps my life, for an exertion of this sort, 
 which enabled my horse to clear a sawpit that was on 
 the landing side of a fence I rode at. One who saw me 
 exclaimed — ' Why did you not look before you leaped ? ' 
 when a wag answered him in the words of Horace — ' Nemo 
 mortalium omnibus horis saivpit.' " 
 
 The next pack visited by our hero was that of Sir 
 Kichard Puleston, who hunted parts of Cheshire, Shrop- 
 shire, and North Wales, and his object for so doing was 
 this : — he had been informed, by more than one good 
 judge, that Sir Kichard was an excellent breeder of fox- 
 hounds ; in fact, that he had done much towards ridding 
 them of those coarse points which, whilst they disfigured 
 them, were found not to be essential to strength and 
 endurance, but evidently impediments to speed. Then he 
 had another motive for visiting Sir Richard's pack. He 
 was at that time one of the very few masters of fox- 
 hounds who hunted his own hounds, and, as he hoped 
 some day or another to hunt a pack himself, he was 
 anxious to see a gentleman placed in that difficult and 
 trying situation. Nor was he disappointed in Sir Richard, 
 who exhibited much good judgment in his casts, and drew 
 
348 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 for his fox in a manner very mucli to his taste. Had he, 
 indeed, ridden a little nearer to his hounds in chase, he 
 would have called him a first-rate huntsman. The next 
 pack, however, which our young sportsman went to see, 
 on his tour, were hunted by quite a first-rate huntsman, 
 and also in the character of a gentleman. We allude to 
 Mr. Musters, who at that time hunted one of the best of 
 the midland counties with very great eclat. He combined, 
 in the opinion of our hero, every possible requisite for 
 his task. He was a beautiful and bold horseman ; with 
 a voice musically melodious ; with the eye of a hawk to 
 his hounds and country, and with a sort of intuitive 
 knowledge of the usual lines in which his foxes ran, to an 
 extent not hitherto witnessed by him. And the following 
 rather curiously drawn portrait of him was given to him 
 by a friend : — 
 
 " It is in the field that Mr. Musters shines. Birds, we 
 are told, cannot conceive with beasts, nor fish with fowl, 
 but dogs, to an extent, certainly conceive with men, 
 and some persons have a peculiar method ofj making 
 their wishes known to them. At the head of these is 
 Mr. Musters. In command of hounds I never saw him 
 equalled, and he certainly handles them with a master's 
 hand. Every art has its peculiar terms, and his language 
 and method in the field are most appropriate. In fact, 
 he may be said to suit the action to the word, and the 
 word to the action, with the greatest possible eff'ect. By 
 temperament of constitution, also, he is particularly fitted 
 for a huntsman ; for, being never fatigued, he is always 
 cheery and gay. To sum up all, although a gentleman^ he 
 is a huntsman. Nature qualified him for the task, and 
 without this, it is in vain to attempt it. As Ion says — 
 
 'What's the gay Dolphin when he quits the waves, 
 And bounds upon the shore ? ' " 
 
 But a singular instance of his powers over the wills and 
 affections of his hounds was related to our hero by one 
 who had long hunted with him ; and what renders the 
 circumstance still more extraordinary, is the fact that Mr, 
 Musters does not feed his own hounds in kennel, as most 
 huntsmen (servants) do. " His hounds were on their 
 road to sleep out, previously to the next day's hunting, 
 the fixture being a distant one, and he himself was like- 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 349 
 
 wise on his road to dine and sleep at a friend's house. It 
 happened that, as his own house was four miles from the 
 kennel from which the hounds had started, he did not 
 travel in their line for a certain portion of the road ; but, 
 knowing that he must cross it at a certain point, he 
 pushed on his hack, to enable him to get ahead of them. 
 When, however, they came into that part of the road 
 over which he had just gone before them, despite of the 
 endeavours of the whip to restrain them, every hound in 
 the pack started off, and overtook him in the space of a 
 mile. Neither could their joy on reaching him be re- 
 strained ; they surrounded his horse, and one actually 
 leaped on his quarters, for the purpose of licking his 
 huntsman's face." 
 
 There was another eminent sportsman in that country, 
 whom Frank Raby was anxious to see, and that pleasure 
 was afforded him. This was Sir Charles Knightly, one 
 of the most fearless and determined horsemen of the 
 period to which we allude. On two thorough-bred horses 
 — Benvolio and St. Maronel — which he rode for several 
 seasons, he went straighter, perhaps, than any other man 
 over the country in which he hunted, and which was one 
 of the strongest in England as to fences, and this fact is 
 confirmed by the following declaration on his part. On 
 some one observing, in his presence, that the country in 
 which he hunted was very strong, but that the difl&culty 
 of crossing it was, to a certain extent, lessened by the 
 number of bridle-gates, he coolly replied, that the only 
 fault he found with it was in the number of bridle and other 
 gates with which it abounded. " I wish," said he, " every 
 gate in the country was nailed up, and then my hounds 
 would not be incommoded by the crowd." He was not 
 a master of hounds at the period to which we allude, so 
 that our hero had not an opportunity of observing him in 
 that capacity, but he took several lessons from him in the 
 practice of riding to hounds. 
 
 " The straightest road is the best and easiest for your 
 horse," he would say, " until the hounds turn, when you 
 should always get a point in your favour, by being a little 
 beforehand with them at that moment." 
 
 Then a great treat was afforded to our young sportsman, 
 in witnessing a day with Mr. Musters, in the very celebrated 
 woodlands of the country his hounds hunted. Strange to 
 say, they are dissected by avenues to the extent of seventy 
 
359 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 miles, in various directions ; and being the property of 
 a noble Duke, himself a master of foxhounds, are never 
 short of foxes. He was fortunate in seeing a fox made to 
 break from them by the surprising energies of Mr. Musters, 
 and, after facing the open country, being up at his death, 
 at the distance of twelve miles, as the crow flies. 
 
 Moving on, in his tour, our hero visited the Hertford- 
 shire hounds, then the Hampshire, and afterwards the 
 Vine, with each of which he saw some really good sports- 
 men, from several of whom he gathered golden opinions, 
 which served his purposes through life. The scene of 
 action wdth each of these packs lying in what may be 
 called very unfavourable ground for hounds, was his chief 
 motive for visiting them, forasmuch as it is in the over- 
 coming of difficulties that talent most strikingly displays 
 itself. He witnessed much science in all that related to 
 the Hertfordshire, their huntsman being a first-rate per- 
 former, assisted by as clever a whipper-in as ever rated 
 a hound ; and in the "Hampshire" pack, from Alpha to 
 Omega, all appeared to him to be perfect. In fact, he 
 found, as a friend of his told him he would find, a pro- 
 priety attending that establishment, as well as correctness 
 of conduct in everything relating to it, which are highly 
 gratifying to a sportsman's eye, and which cannot be too 
 closely imitated. The civility and respectful behaviour 
 of the servants were beyond all praise ; and whether by 
 command of their master, or from their own sense of 
 propriety, it was not in his power to determine, but an 
 oath, or a coarse expression of any sort, was never heard 
 to escape them under the most trying circumstances that 
 occurred. It showed that fox-hunting was about to be 
 purged of the only stain that w^as then attached to it, 
 namely, being the scene of wanton disregard of the usual 
 decorum of society. 
 
 Of the Vine hounds he thus wrote to his intimate friend 
 and brother sportsman, Hargrave : — 
 
 "I am now hunting with a pack called the Vine, so 
 called because such is the name of their owner's house, 
 he representing the county in Parliament. He has the 
 appearance of anything rather than a master of fox- 
 hounds, streaming across the country with a long pig- 
 tail down his back, but he is very popular with all 
 descriptions of persons. But it is of his hounds that I 
 wish to speak. They are very small— the smallest I ever 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 351 
 
 saw — but very neat, very fast, very quick in their turns, 
 and very stout. I shall have an eye to some of their 
 blood, one day or another. They have a bad, light - 
 scenting country to hunt over, which puts their goodness 
 to the test. 
 
 " You often hear me speak of my weight, and grumble 
 about it. I shall do so no more, because I see that men, 
 four stone heavier than I am, can go well up to hounds. 
 When I was in the Hertfordshire country, I saw this 
 proved in the person of one of the most extraordinary 
 men, perhaps, England ever produced. His name is 
 Eichard Gurney— commonly called Dick Gurney — and, 
 although riding eighteen stone, he goes the best pace. 
 In fact, a short time since, I went to see a gate that he 
 and Sir Charles Knightly — but no one else — leaped, near 
 Northampton, at the end of a twenty minutes' burst. It 
 appeared to me next to a miracle that he could have 
 cleared it, when I looked at its height, and thought of 
 his tremendous weight. The name of the horse that 
 performed it is Cock Robin (winged, I should imagine, 
 like his namesake), and he has refused 1000 guineas 
 for him. 
 
 " The frost is gone at last, and to our no small delight. 
 Indeed, the breaking-up of one always reminds me of 
 the inhabitants of those countries from which the sun 
 absents himself for half the year. Speaking poetically, 
 when they see the chariot of Diana, every man claps 
 his hands for joy ; all come forth from their caves, with 
 dancing and songs; to welcome the approach of the 
 beautiful goddess. But you may wish to know what I 
 did with myself during the frost. I visited London for 
 a week, and afterwards ran down to Amstead, and had 
 a capital week's shooting, killing seventeen couples of 
 woodcocks, eleven and a half brace of pheasants, seven 
 and a half of snipes, and eleven of rabbits. I then ran 
 down to Quorn to see the hounds in kennel, and a great 
 treat I had. The master was from home, but I inspected 
 the whole establishment, which, to use the low expression, 
 ' made my mouth water,' and I said to myself — ' when shall 
 I be qualified to be at the head of such an establishment 
 as this 1 ' I was answered by the inner man, with a still 
 lower expression — ' when you have eaten a good deal more 
 pudding.' But I tell you, honestly, Hargrave, I shall 
 never consider myself completely happy until I become 
 
352 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 a master of foxhounds. By-the-bye, one piece of informa- 
 tion gleaned at Quorn somewhat surprised me, and this 
 was, the comparatively small number of foxes killed in 
 the space of five seasons, during what may be called the 
 prime of Mr. Meynell's career. The account stands thus : 
 —From 16th of August 1791 to April 1792, thirty-four 
 brace. From 16th of June 1792 to 9th of April 1793, 
 forty-one and a half brace. From 16th of June 1793 to 
 2nd of April 1794, forty-six and a half brace. From 23rd 
 of August 1794 to 4th of April 1795, twenty-six and 
 a half brace. From 26th of August 1795 to 4th of 
 April 1796, thirty-four and a half brace. This, you will 
 perceive, averages little more than thirty-six brace in the 
 season, including cub-hunting, and that commencing more 
 than usually early. Either the foxes must have been more 
 scarce than they now are, to account for this trifling 
 amount of blood ; or, what I think most probable, they 
 were wilder and more difficult to kill in Meynell's days, 
 the country itself being wilder and more open than it 
 now is. 
 
 " The kennels and stables at Quorn are superb, and you 
 must see them soon. Exclusive of boxes, there is one 
 stable which holds twenty-eight horses, and so contrived 
 by a trifling deviation from a right line, that, although 
 ail the horses appear to stand in a row, the quarters of 
 each are to be seen at either extremity of the building. 
 A clean watering-bridle hangs on the stall-post of each 
 horse, and there is a patent lamp between every six. 
 This is all very fine as far as the eye of man is concerned ; 
 but for the welfare of the horses I should prefer smaller 
 stables, so as to divide the lot according to their several 
 necessities. Horses require a state of extreme quiet at 
 times, which they cannot enjoy in a stable occupied by 
 so many. Some require to be shod ; others are in physic, 
 and most go out more than once in the day : and many 
 such occurrences tend to disturb repose, which should 
 be plentifully allowed to hunters after hard days, as a 
 great restorative of their powers, as well as a preventive 
 of fever." 
 
 Towards the close of the season, another letter was 
 despatched by Frank Raby to his friend Hargrave, of 
 which the following is part : — 
 
 " My tour of hounds is now drawing to a conclusion ; 
 but I cannot wait till I see you for the pleasure of 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 353 
 
 relating to you a run I saw yesterday, in the Atherstone 
 country. The beautiful pack of bitches met at Sibson. 
 The morning was immoderately stormy, and, as far as 
 human foresight extended, perfectly inimical to scent and 
 sport ; but the result proved how fallible is human judg- 
 ment ! We drew the wolds and Welsborough Gorse blank. 
 We then proceeded to Sutton Hambion, and the hounds 
 had scarcely been in the cover a minute before the electric 
 sounds of ' Tally-ho ! ' — ' Gone-away ! ' were audible, and 
 the fox broke in the most gallant style. The moment 
 the hounds were laid on the scent, it was evident we were 
 in for a run ; and away they went, with heads up, and 
 sterns down, to Bosworth, where the hounds, and a few 
 of the first-flight men, got a view of the fox. It was but 
 a peep, however, and away we went again, the hounds 
 appearing bent upon conquest — the pace up to this 
 moment having been a jiying one. He then made his 
 line for Kirkby, leaving the Gorse to the left, as if 
 Burbage Wood were his next point ; but the hounds 
 pressed him so hard, that he went farther a-field ; and, 
 to come to the end of my story, he was killed at the end 
 of one hour and fifty-five minutes, during which time 
 nothing occurred which could be called a check. The 
 country being awfully deep, and the pace throughout 
 fast in the extreme, several disasters occurred, and 
 veterinary surgeons were in request, on the morrow, in 
 more directions than one. 
 
 " By-the-bye, I do not recollect having told you that I 
 hunted one week in Yorkshire, with the hounds of the 
 far-famed Earl of Darlington. He has a noble establish- 
 ment of hounds and horses, a most extensive country, 
 and he performs the office of huntsmen both in the field 
 and in the kennel. He is a superb horseman over a 
 country as well, and altogether a sportsman, being one 
 of the leading men in the north on the turf. He is, like- 
 wise — for I had the honour of passing two days with him 
 at his castle — one of the most lively and agreeable com- 
 panions I ever met with over a bottle of claret, abounding 
 with anecdotes, and having a most agreeable manner of 
 relating them. What think you of his feeding his hounds 
 in a smock-frock ? which I saw him do twice. I hope some 
 day to do the same by mine, that is, when I have them 
 to feed. His Lordship also keeps a diary of each day's 
 sport, written with much spirit, and showing that his 
 23 
 
354 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 heart and soul are in the pursuit. I will give you a 
 little specimen of his style, in recording the sport of the 
 first day on which I was out with his pack. Speaking 
 of those of his field who went well in the brilliant run 
 we had, of an hour and forty minutes, he says — ' I cannot 
 omit to mention that the Kev. Mr. John Morton shone 
 as conspicuously on his grey mare as he always does in 
 the pulpit.' Then, speaking of myself, his Lordship has 
 thus described me : — ' A young gentleman by the name 
 of Kaby, a friend of my eldest son, who made his ac- 
 quaintance at Melton, was out with us this day, and rode 
 well to my hounds ; he appears to have an old head upon 
 young shoulders, and I prophesy that he will, some day 
 or another, make a distinguished sportsman.' 
 
 " His Lordship did not show me what he had written ,♦ 
 but as we like to hear what is thought of us by people 
 whose opinion is worth having, I took a peep into the 
 book next morning, and was of course flattered by the 
 handsome mention made of me. I certainly never rode 
 better to hounds than I did that day over a cramped and 
 difficult country, but I chanced to ride Achilles, who is 
 up to all sorts of trap. There was, however, one fence 
 which I did not attempt, although many of the Yorkshire 
 horses did not appear to regard it ; this was a stile in the 
 shape of the letter V, consequently without a top bar to 
 guide the eye of a horse as to how high he is to leap. 
 One, not accustomed to this sort of fence, would be in- 
 duced to leap through it, in which case he most likely 
 would be caught. 
 
 "You will expect that I shall say something of the 
 hounds. They are divided into two packs, the large and 
 the small one. The large hounds are noble animals, and 
 good hunters ; but — and I saw both packs at work, and 
 in difficulties — I gave the preference to the small ones, 
 which appeared more handy and quicker. It is alto- 
 gether, however, a splendid and truly sportsmanlike 
 establishment." 
 
 The summer succeeding the period which we have now 
 been detailing the operations of, having been passed in 
 a way, for the most part, to the full satisfaction of our 
 hero — namely, in the enjoyment of the London season 
 up to a certain period, a trip to Brighton, a visit to his 
 friend Hargrave, Epsom and Ascot races, 'Bibury Club 
 meeting, together with his "parliamentary duties" — 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 355 
 
 although he was getting somewhat out of conceit with 
 being a member of the British senate, having been twice 
 obliged to absent himself from a favourite iixture for 
 hounds to obey a call of the House, and once had a visit 
 from the sergeant-at-arms for not obeying it : — when all 
 these momentous affairs were accomplished, he hastened to 
 Farndon Hall, to spend the rest of the summer in a way 
 more congenial to his taste. His coaching establishment 
 was now quite complete by some changes he had effected 
 in London. He had drafted the kicking wheeler ; as 
 well as a leader that would not stand still when he pulled 
 up his coach on the road, and he was a bad starter as 
 well. Having witnessed much of the performances of 
 some of the best gentlemen-coachmen of the day, during 
 his stay in London, he was become a first-rate artist 
 himself ; and, after the example of his friend, " His 
 Honour," by opening the door of his servants' hall to 
 such of the coachmen and guards on his road as required 
 a few days' rest, together with having their allowance 
 scored up to him in his village, through which three mails 
 and seven coaches passed daily, his name was known to 
 nearly all the fraternity of the whip as a kind-hearted 
 gentleman, and among the best friends of the road. He 
 was, indeed, universally respected by all ranks of persons 
 in his neighbourhood : neither was he unmindful of the 
 poor ; allowing those of his parish, besides occasional 
 assistance, a bushel of wheat a week throughout the year, 
 as his father had always done to double that amount. 
 Then a pleasing circumstance occurred on the anniversary 
 of his taking up his abode at Farndon Hall. Setting 
 aside the outlay of his carriages and horses, as likewise 
 the furnishing of his house, he found himself so far from 
 being in advance of his annual income, that there was a 
 balance of £1300 in his favour. To this he was indebted 
 partly to his own sense of propriety, partly to the ex- 
 cellent advice of his friend Inkleton, and greatly to his 
 having looked into his affairs at the end of each month, 
 and paid ready money for all minor wants. The little 
 estate in Hertfordshire, also, from its beautiful locality, 
 had been sold for nearly £2000 beyond the calculation 
 of his agents, which tended further to place him "on 
 velvet," that is to say, with everything in his reach that a 
 man of moderate views could desire. "iVow," said he to 
 himself, " I am qualified to hunt from Melton." 
 
356 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 Frank Raby becomes a regular MeltoniaB ; loses his father, and 
 finally settles down as a master of foxhounds, the point of 
 honour in the Life of a Sportsman. 
 
 IT is scarcely necessary to observe, that the first week 
 in the succeeding November found our hero at 
 Melton Mowbray, occupying the house which he had 
 already tenanted for upwards of two years, and with his 
 stud increased to fourteen hunters and two cover hacks. 
 And his indoors establishment was this : — at the head of 
 it was his trusty butler, who had lived nearly all his 
 life with his late uncle, and consequently, having known 
 him in his childhood, was attached to his person and 
 interests beyond mercenary views, and who kept all his 
 accounts ; his own personal servant, or valet, skilled in 
 the art of clothes-cleaning, and especially in the depart- 
 ment of the boots, then only in its infancy ; a French 
 cook, with the highest attestations of his abilities from 
 Lord Edmonston, with whom he had lived, and who had 
 " parted with him for no fault," as the horse-chaunter 
 says in his puff of the patched-up screw ; an English 
 kitchen-maid of no slender qualifications, without which 
 no man's cuisine is complete ; his housekeeper, having 
 had her education in the Amstead still-room, under the 
 tuition of Mrs, Jones ; a footman and a housemaid 
 bringing up the rear. Here it will be perceived is no 
 wanton prodigality, nor was any such indulged in by 
 our young sportsman. His practice was to give dinners 
 twice a week, to parties of eight, and on the evenings on 
 which he had no engagement, one friend at least would 
 be his guest, to talk over the events of the day. And at 
 no place, except Melton, is there such a never-failing 
 succession of events to be discussed on these occasions, 
 by reason of there being three packs of hounds within 
 reach, and the certainty that out of a party of eight, one 
 attendant, at least, upon each pack, would be found. 
 Having stated all this, there is little room for doubting 
 that — although, perhaps, the knowledge of the savoir vivre 
 in our young sportsman, was not quite so complete as in 
 some of the bon vivants of the day, who had more ex- 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 357 
 
 perience than himself — most of the arts and appliances 
 which render life agreeable to a man in his twenty-tifth 
 year, were to be found in his house at Melton. 
 
 But we have said nothing of his stud of hunters, selected 
 for this occasion. By the advice of his friend Somerby, 
 whom he had met in London during the season, an 
 alteration had been effected in them. 
 
 "The eight hunters you now have," said Somerby, 
 " are all good and useful of their kind ; but three of them 
 are not suited for Leicestershire. In the first place, they 
 are not well enough bred for our pace and country ; and, 
 in the next, in stable language, they are deficient in scale 
 to command and to cover our large blackthorn hedges, 
 with their wide ditches, and more especially the ox fences, 
 which require horses to extend themselves in their leaps 
 over a great space of ground. Let me recommend you 
 to draft all but those three ; and as there are two lots of 
 well-known and capital Leicestershire horses coming to 
 Tattersall's in a fortnight, you can then and there re- 
 place them, as well as complete the number of your stud. 
 Do not think me conceited in thus characterizing the 
 Leicestershire horse ; depend upon it, before you have 
 hunted in that country half as long as I have, you will 
 say I have not overdrawn the picture." 
 
 Space will not admit of our accompanying our hero 
 during the whole of his residence at Melton, which 
 continued for nine consecutive years, and where he left 
 behind him a reputation for all that is desirable in the 
 gentleman, the companion, and the sportsman ; and the 
 character he gave of it when he quitted it was, that, " to 
 a sportsman it was the most delightful place upon earth ; 
 the very centre and rendezvous of all pleasures, and 
 whatsoever is agreeable to mortals — in truth, to him, an 
 earthly paradise." There was, in fact, but one circum- 
 stance during the entire period of his sojourning there, 
 that produced an unpleasing reflection, but from the 
 relation of it here some good may arise. An unguarded 
 expression from a hot-headed young Irishman, but 
 possessing an equally warm heart — the result, perhaps, 
 of an extra bottle of claret, and that the result of a 
 brilliant run in the morning, which, in those days, was 
 too often celebrated with Bacchanalian rites in the evening 
 — interrupted the harmony of a party at which our hero 
 made one : and, as was likewise too often the custom of 
 
358 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 tliose days, for tlie honour of Tipperary, an apology for 
 the offence by the aggressor was declined. A meeting, 
 then, was necessarily the consequence ; and our hero, 
 having placed his honour in the hands of an officer of the 
 Guards with whom he became intimate at Melton, was 
 himself, the next morning, placed in array to his 
 antagonist at the distance of twelve paces. On the word 
 " Fire " being given, the Irishman fired in the air ; and — 
 as was evident to both seconds — the pistol of his opponent 
 having been so pointed as to render it impossible the ball 
 could take effect, it was, of course, a bloodless affair. 
 
 " Noiv, Mr. Eaby," said the Irishman, " I am ready 
 to take your hand, and declare, upon the honour of a 
 gentleman, that I regret having given you offence." 
 Anger, like the bee, says Seneca, should sting but once. 
 Our hero took his hand and pressed it, adding, emphati- 
 cally, these words : — 
 
 "My good fellow, let us think no more of what has 
 happened ; you have done and said all that I could 
 desire." 
 
 The conduct of Frank Eaby was highly approved of 
 on this occasion, having shown himself to be a man of 
 courage, tempered with humanity, which, after all, is the 
 only true courage,^ as possessing that nice sensibility of 
 honour which weighs the insult, rather than the injury ; 
 willing to accept of the slightest atonement for either, 
 and totally incapable of revenge. The situation, however, 
 in which he had placed himself (for his antagonist was a 
 first-rate shot), without the effort to defend himself, and 
 of course ignorant of the intentions of his opponent, 
 became a subject of admiration amongst his associates ; 
 and on the arrival of Hargrave, a few days afterwards on 
 a visit to him, the following conversation took place, on 
 their road to meet the hounds : — 
 
 "I have heard a good deal said," observed Hargrave, 
 "on the subject of your affair with the Irishman: the 
 Melton men — at least many of them — think you let him 
 off too cheaply ; that is to say, you, who were the 
 aggrieved, ran the risk of being punished, without the 
 chance of punishing the aggressor." 
 
 " No punishment which he could have inflicted upon 
 me," replied Frank Raby, "would have been equal to 
 
 1 The Greeks used the word Aptry; to express both what we call 
 valour and virtue. 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 359 
 
 what I should have suffered had I caused his death. I 
 would not have a man's blood lie at my door for any 
 consideration whatsoever. And as for a wish, on my part, 
 to inflict punishment on Fitzmaurice, nothing was further 
 from my mind. He is a good-hearted fellow — a man of 
 licence, indeed, in his words and actions ; and I felt sorry 
 afterwards that I took umbrage at what he said." 
 
 " But would not your honour have " 
 
 " Honour ! " interrupted our hero ; " I think there is 
 too much stress laid upon this said thing called honour ; 
 it appears to be the darling attribute of the present age ; 
 but I think it has lost by its acquirements. It is a 
 picture of virtue, perhaps, finely drawn, but, in my 
 opinion, the lines are not just, and the colours are too 
 glaring. These bloody maxims of honour were unknown 
 to the ancients in the best of their times, and why should 
 not we, who boast of our refinement, be unable to live 
 correctly in society, unless under fear of being shot, or 
 compelled to shoot others 1 " 
 
 " Pardon me," replied Hargrave ; " Antony challenged 
 Augustus ! " 
 
 " He may have done so," said Kaby, " but that does not 
 prove the custom ; and if it did, custom without reason 
 is but an ancient error. I know that there were duels 
 fought in old times, as between the Horatii and the 
 Curatii, and others of still more importance in the eyes 
 of the world ; but these duellists were public enemies, a 
 sort of fighting representatives chosen to decide the 
 controversies of their respective countries ; there was no 
 cutting of throats to decide private disputes. And as you 
 have mentioned the name of Augustus, what, may I ask, 
 was his answer to Antony on being challenged by him 
 after the battle of Actium ? Why that, if he (Antony) 
 was tired of life, there were other ways of his ridding 
 himself of it, and he (Augustus) should not trouble 
 himself to be his executioner." 
 
 " A capital answer," observed Hargrave. 
 
 "Yes," rejoined our hero ; "and if some man of well- 
 established courage and conduct, in our day, were to 
 return a similar one to another who wished to cut his 
 throat for a mere lapsus linguce over a bottle of wine, or 
 a hasty expression in the moment of argument, he would 
 deserve well of society. Then look closer into the system, 
 and observe the inconsistency of it. A man inflicts upon 
 
36o THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 you the severest possible injury to begin with. Well, 
 you call him out, as the phrase goes, and he finishes by 
 shooting you. Then, although public opinion may be in 
 favour of this private appeal to arms, the punishment by 
 law is equal towards the injured and the injurer ; where- 
 as, in strict justice, the latter is the sole instigator, if not 
 perpetrator of the crime. At all events, the laws should 
 be lenient to the man who accepts the challenge, because 
 he acts under an opinion of honourable self-defence, 
 against the evil influence of which the law cannot pro- 
 tect him." 
 
 "Then I perceive," resumed Hargrave, "you are a 
 decided enemy to duelling, which I am, indeed, myself, 
 and I often think of the question Fielding makes 
 Partridge put to Tom Jones on the subject : ' Is not 
 courage forbidden by heaven?' said Partridge. 'Yes,' 
 replied Jones, ' but enjoined by the world.'" 
 
 " Then," said our hero, " which is the greater authority 
 of the two ? Heaven or the world ? " 
 
 "No question on that point," continued Hargrave. 
 " ' If it he possible,' says St. Paul, ' as much as lieth in you, 
 live peaceably with all men.' " 
 
 " Yes," observed Raby, " and in the next verse he adds 
 — ' avenge not yourselves ; it is written, vengeance is 
 mine.' " 
 
 The hounds af)pearing in sight, the subject was 
 dropped, and there is good reason to believe that, as this 
 was the first, so was it the last appearance of our hero on 
 this stage. Nemo debet bis vexari is not a bad proverb for 
 a man to keep in his pocket ; but despicable as is the 
 character of a quarrelsome man, and still more so the 
 professed duellist, there is too much reason to fear that 
 some young men think it a feather in their cap, with the 
 female sex especially, to have fought a duel. It is true, 
 Virgil makes Dido fall in love with ^neas, because he is 
 a fighting man. There is reason to believe, however, that, 
 ere long, this pernicious rule, by which society in the 
 upper classes has hitherto been governed, will be made 
 to yield its sway to a more rational tribunal. This would 
 be a reform worthy of an enlightened people. 
 
 Two rather interesting incidents have been overlooked 
 during the sojourn of Prank Raby at Melton, extending, 
 as has been observed, over a period of nine years. The 
 first has its origin in an extraordinary run, in which two 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 361 
 
 celebrated sportsmen of those times played extraordinary- 
 parts. The fox broke from the Coplow, the hounds 
 getting away close at his brush, and so straight did he put 
 his head, that those who did not get well away with them, 
 had no chance to be near them, as there was nothing to 
 be had from a favourable turn. Those, however, who did 
 get away well, had great difficulty in living with the pack, 
 and, dropping off one by one, out of 150 at starting, the 
 field soon became select. But to what did it come at 
 length ? Why, to the presence of only two, and even they 
 did not quite see the finish of this glorious run. And 
 there was no deceit here. Coming to a momentary check, 
 one said to the other — 
 
 " Look behind you. There is not a living soul in 
 sight ! " Nor was there. As there were no second horses 
 in those days, the honours should be recorded to the two 
 who thus distinguished themselves, as well as to their 
 owners who rode them. The name of one was the Clapper, 
 ridden by Mr. Ludlow, of Bibury, as well as of Leicester- 
 shire fame ; the other by Mr. Smith, honoured by 
 Napoleon as the grand chasseur of the day. And where 
 was our hero in this run ? He was one of the last lot of 
 five who all pulled up in the same large field, having been,, 
 up to that time, brilliantly carried by Topthorn. 
 
 The second incident has somewhat of a contrary bearing,, 
 inasmuch as it produces rather a rare instance of a sports- 
 man coming at once from a very close and confined 
 country into the spacious and highly-ridged fields of 
 Leicestershire, and distinguishing both himself and his- 
 horse. This was the Reverend James Tomlinson, of whom 
 we have before spoken as having excited the admiration 
 of our hero in Cheshire, and whose performance on 
 the day alluded to was the cause of rather a curious 
 eclair cissement. Previously, however, to the climax, it 
 should be observed that, in those days, no gentleman, 
 except in the Cheshire Hunt, was seen in the hunting-field 
 clad in leather breeches. Thus clad, however, was Mr. 
 Tomlinson, when the fox broke from his cover, and, 
 moreover, the gentleman was still further disgiiised by a 
 coloured silk neckcloth. 
 
 " Who is the farmer going so well on the chestnut ? " 
 asked one. 
 
 "Get his price for me," exclaimed another. "He's 
 mine, if I give five hundred for him," roared a third. " A 
 
362 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 thousand would not purchase him," exclaimed Frank 
 Raby, who was within hearing of the trio. " He belongs 
 to Jemmy Tomlinson, a friend of mine, in Cheshire, and 
 he calls him The Pea." 
 
 At the end of the run, however, which "Jemmy" was 
 there to see, one or two of the field who had not heard 
 the explanation given by our hero, and, mistaking his rider 
 for a yeoman, asked him to put a price on his horse. The 
 answer may be anticipated. 
 
 We are now about to notice a great change in the 
 situation and circumstances of our hero. At tlie age of 
 thirty-six, he lost his excellent father, who died after a few 
 hours' illness, and before his son could reach him, although, 
 of course, sent for by express. To describe the scene of 
 affliction that Amstead Abbey presented on this melancholy 
 occasion, would be productive of no good to the generality 
 of my readers, and, perhaps, bring to the recollection of 
 some of them hours of similar distress. The blow to Lady 
 Charlotte was as severe as it was sudden, requiring all the 
 energies of her soul and body to enable her to withstand 
 its force ; but forasmuch as the weight of human sorrow, 
 like that of human power, is broken by being divided, 
 she was not entirely comfortless. Her two daughters, 
 although married, happened to be within easy reach of her 
 a,t the time ; and the presence of her son, of whom she 
 w^as justly proud, from the accounts she heard of him from 
 all quarters, was balm to her wounded spirit. And we 
 will produce a fact to show that she had not been 
 deceived in the representations of him, and that he was 
 worthy of being the representative of the excellent father 
 of whom he had been bereaved. On the day subsequent 
 to the funeral, which, in addition to his own dependants, 
 Avas attended by the carriages of all the neighbouring 
 families, and what told more for the virtues of the 
 deceased, by the bewailings of the poor of the neighbouring 
 villages, who had partaken of his fostering care and 
 charity to an unusual degree, she received from him the 
 following letter : — 
 
 " My ever Dear Mother, — I should be dead to the 
 common feelings of a man did I not sympathize acutely 
 with the painful situation in which you are at this 
 moment placed, and still more so to those of a son, if I did 
 not, to the utmost of my power, endeavour to mitigate the 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 363 
 
 sufferings of so kind and excellent a mother. I know not 
 in what manner I can at this moment best endeavour to 
 contribute towards this much desired end, than to assure 
 you, at once, of my earnest wish that you should remain 
 at the Abbey so long as you may desire to do so, con- 
 sidering all that is within and without it at your entire 
 service ; and further, should you find, at the year's end, 
 the provision my lamented father has made for you not 
 equal to the expenses of keeping it up, the deficiency shall 
 be made good by me. Our hearts, I am sure, are at 
 present too full to discuss such subjects in person, which 
 is the reason of my thus addressing you by letter ; but let 
 me entreat you, for the sake of my sisters, myself, and 
 your friends, to bear up with all your might against the 
 blow which has thus stricken you unawares and deprived 
 you of (I fear) all that has hitherto given a relish to the 
 pursuits and pleasures of the greater part of your life. 
 But be comforted. My reading has informed me that 
 there are three wa^^s of bearing up against the ills and 
 misfortunes of life — indifference, philosophy, and religion. 
 The first forms no feature in your character ; the second 
 is a manly virtue, but, in the first transports of affliction, 
 of too stern an aspect to gain admittance to a woman's 
 breast ; it is in the third and last that you will find the 
 healing balm, and next to that in the affection and 
 gratitude of your daughters, the esteem of your friends, 
 and in the full assurance of the strict performance, not 
 only of what is now offered to you, but of every act of love 
 and duty on the part of — Your truly affectionate son, 
 
 " Francis Eaby. 
 " Amstead, March 10, 18—." 
 
 It is said by a writer whose celebrity, perhaps, does no 
 great honour to the feelings of human nature, that, let a 
 man die amidst ever so many lamentations, if he could 
 rise again from his grave, after the lapse of a short period, 
 his reappearance upon earth would not be found to be 
 productive of unmingled satisfaction among his relations 
 and friends who had wept over his closing grave. But 
 we are happy to say our hero was not one of this class. 
 With an income already equal to all his wants, and all his 
 wishes ; with health and spirits, which gave the highest 
 zest to the enjoyment of them, what more could he desire ? 
 In fact, he may be said to have had but one wish not within 
 
364 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 his means to gratify ; but, had anybody imagined tbat the- 
 gratification of that wish, and the life of his excellent 
 father, bore the most distant approach to an equality iiL 
 his well-balanced mind, he would have found himself 
 egregiously mistaken. However, the one thing having- 
 been snatched away from him was no reason why he- 
 should not avail himself of the other ; so, having become 
 tired of his parliamentary duties, for which he did not 
 consider himself qualified, he resigned his seat at the end 
 of the second session ; but having, as he thought, qualified 
 himself by experience in the field for the principal office 
 of a sportsman, he unhesitatingly accepted of one of the 
 best of the midland countries, which became vacant, by 
 the resignation of a noble lord, in the second year after his 
 father's decease. 
 
 The fine income he was now in the possession of rendered 
 pecuniary assistance unnecessary, and there was nothing 
 wanting to insure success to the new undertaking but — 
 what must always operate against that of all undertakings 
 — the benefit of experience. Frank Raby was a sportsman, 
 and in the truest acceptation of that term. He loved 
 hunting to his very soul ; he had studied it in its theory 
 as well as in the practice of it ; he understood it well in 
 all that related to the field ; but he had never been a 
 master of hounds, still less their huntsman. Like a 
 sensible man, then, he was anxious for instruction from 
 the best source, and consequently wrote the following 
 letter to the person whom he considered most able to 
 furnish him with it : — 
 
 " Melton Mowbray, 18 — . 
 " My Dear Sir, — I have the following inducements to 
 impose a task upon you. First — the circumstance of your 
 pack having been the one with which I made my start 
 in the fox-hunting world ; secondly — your science and 
 experience in all that relates to fox-hunting ; thirdly — 
 your good-nature and kind-heartedness ; lastly, your zeal 
 for the welfare and credit of all that relates to the noble 
 science. A country, which you once hunted, is now 
 offered to me, and I feel disposed to take it ; nor is this all ; 
 I have flattered myself into the belief that I can hunt a 
 pack of foxhounds, and intend trying my hand at it. 
 What think you ? Pray give me a candid answer, and, 
 if favourable to my views, I shall trespass on your 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 365 
 
 kindness for a little advice and instruction. By following 
 your precepts in part, it is possible I may succeed ; but, if 
 to the full extent, there would be little doubt of it. 
 Homer, you know (for you look into books as well as into 
 kennels), makes Achilles a clever fellow. ' No wonder,' 
 says Eustathius, 'he had Chiron for his tutor, and a 
 goddess for his mother.' For myself, I cannot claim such 
 high origin, but I have reason to hope that, te duce, 
 I may, sooner or later, fulfil the highest object of my 
 ambition — that of keeping and hunting a pack of foxhounds 
 with credit to myself, and satisfaction to my field. — 
 Believe me, dear Sir, faithfully yours, 
 
 " Francis Kaby." 
 
 The answer to this letter, received by return of post, 
 ran thus : — 
 
 "Dear Kaby, — I am always glad to hear of young 
 men of fortune wishing to keep foxhounds, and especially 
 when they have been well educated for the task, which I 
 consider you to have been, by not merely serving an 
 apprenticeship at Melton, but by having gone about the 
 country seeing all the best establishments, and, of course, 
 the best huntsmen. From reports that have reached me 
 of your performance in the field — I do not mean merely 
 riding to break your neck — I am proud to acknowledge 
 the compliment you pay me, of considering me as your 
 tutor, and it will give me much pleasure to ofter you the 
 result of my experience as far as the management of 
 hounds both in the field and in the kennel ; but, mind 
 me, only as a master of hounds and a sportsman. I never 
 hunted hounds in my life ; it was not the fashion, in early 
 days, for gentlemen to fill the office of huntsman, which 
 was left to servile hands, and I do not think that, all 
 things considered, the noble science — as you call fox- 
 hunting — has gained much by the change. Gentlemen 
 have so many other pursuits in view, that I give the pre- 
 ference to the servant, who, we know, has none other, and 
 is, on that account, if a man of talent, more likely to 
 succeed. Besides, the situation of a huntsman is very 
 trying to the temper, and your ' gentleman ' too often flies 
 out, where the servant remains passive. However, as I 
 know you to be a devilish good-tempered fellow, and, I 
 have reason to believe, a thorough sportsman, there is no 
 
366 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 harm in your trying the experiment of hunting your own 
 hounds ; forasmuch as, if it do not succeed, you can but 
 fall back on a substitute. All I will say now, then, is 
 that I will brush up my memory on some points, and give 
 you the result of my reminiscences and reflections at the 
 earliest period within my power. In the meantime, 
 believe me, truly yours, 
 
 "John Warde. 
 " To Francis Raby, Esq., &c. &c." 
 
 In about a fortnight after the receipt of this friendly 
 letter, our hero was favoured with the following observa- 
 tions from his kind friend and preceptor : — 
 
 "I must start with your start. Do you purchase, or 
 get together a pack of your own ? I should recommend 
 the former at a liberal price. It will save you much 
 trouble, and be the cheapest plan in the end. If you 
 collect a pack — like Harlequin's snuff, a pinch out of every 
 man's box — have nothing to do but with kennels of the 
 highest character, for the better the hounds are, the less 
 bad, of course, will be the drafts, and vice versa. For 
 example, who would accept of a hound drafted from 
 
 C 's pack % At all events, if you determine on forming 
 
 a pack by drafts from different kennels, don't fail pur- 
 chasing twice as many as you may require, for, depend on 
 it, one half of them will be useless. Ask yourself the 
 question — ' Who would draft good hounds 1 ' You are then 
 purchasing faults, which you may never again get rid of. 
 And do not trust to your eye ; I have had hundreds of 
 beautiful hounds, in my time, not worth one day's meal. 
 Indeed, it sometimes strikes me that, as hounds improve 
 in beauty, which they certainly do, they lose other more 
 necessary qualities. This is certainly the case, unless they 
 are bred from the very best blood. I conclude this part 
 of my subject, then, by assuring you that, if you attempt 
 to form a pack of foxhounds yourself, you must not, 
 clever fellow as you are, expect 'perfection under ten years, 
 and that makes a hole even in a young man's life. I can 
 only say it cost me that time to form what I considered a 
 steady and stout pack. Some sorts prove vicious, however 
 highly bred ; some unsound, some delicate ; and, foras- 
 much as it requires three years to find out the results of 
 any cross, how favourable soever may be the expectation 
 from it, the breeder of hounds is too often, if not working 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 367 
 
 in the dark, involved in uncertainties and j^erplexities to 
 no small amount. As is the case with breeding horses, 
 faults of generations back, on one side or the other, will 
 appear ; and with hounds, even should the cross suit the 
 first time, there is perplexity again ; the produce must be- 
 three years old before their real goodness can be verified ; 
 and their sire must be at least five or six, as no man would 
 breed from a hound much under three years' standing in 
 his work. Should the cross nick, however, spare no pains- 
 to continue it, if circumstances will enable you to do so — 
 that is to say, if the dog and the bitch are within 500 miles-- 
 of each other. 
 
 " Now the chief questions for your consideration are — 
 what constitutes a good, and what a faulty hound in his 
 work, and, afterwards, his shape and make. The pro- 
 perties of a good hound are soon told. He does his best 
 to find a fox ; throws his tongue when he is sui'e he has 
 found him, and not before ; gets away quickly with the- 
 scent so along as it is forward ; stops and tiirns quickly 
 when it is not forward ; drives it to the end without dwell- 
 ing on it, or tiring ; is true to the line without being too- 
 eager to get to the head and guide the scent ; sticks to his 
 fox when he is sinking in a cover, let the cover be ever sa 
 strong, which proves his perseverance and stoutness ; quite 
 steady from riot in the field ; not jealous in his work ; 
 good-tempered in the kennel, of a vigorous constitution,, 
 and sound from head to foot. 
 
 " A friend of mine, speaking of the merits of hounds,, 
 has this curious though not unreasonable notion — ' It may 
 appear paradoxical,' he says, ' but it is nevertheless true, 
 that the (query, one) proof of a hound's goodness is, that 
 he is never remarkable during a run ; and there are many 
 good sportsmen who would prefer a hound of this nature 
 to one which is oftener seen at head than any of the rest. 
 Of course a hound that is not remarkable is never last, 
 or where he should not be, but holds the line, and is what 
 is called by some, a good line-hunter, which is the criterion 
 of all goodness ; that is, if he drives a scent, too, without 
 dwelling on it.' We may certainly call a hound of this 
 description both good and highly useful in hunting a fox: 
 to his death, but we cannot call him brilliant. As Beck- 
 ford says, 'it is the dash of the foxhound that dis- 
 tinguishes him, as it does the hero in the battle.' Besides, 
 this same friend thus defines the line-hunter : — ' A hound 
 
368 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 whicli will not go a yard beyond the scent, and keeps tlie 
 pack right.' Now if a hound, with a superior nose and 
 steadiness, were to be conspicuous at the head, it strikes 
 me that he would be more likely to be efficient in driving 
 the scent, and guiding the pack right. 
 
 " Of the faults of hounds, if not the worst, the most 
 provoking of any is slackness. It reminds you of one 
 man taking a horse to water, whilst twenty cannot make 
 him drink. I had rather have to do with a wild hound 
 than a slack one. The two most acknowledged faults are 
 running mute and skirting. The first culprit sneaks away 
 with your fox, and foils the ground for the rest of the 
 pack should they chance to get on the line ; and the 
 second — although a proof of intellect, or rather, cunning — 
 is often the cause of much mischief, and always spoils the 
 business-like appearance of things, however good as to 
 extent or finish your run may be. There are, also, what 
 are called left-handed hounds — not exactly skirters, but 
 apt to run wide of the pack, perhaps waiting for a turn in 
 their favour, but leaving the rest of the pack to do the 
 jprincipal work of the day. Keep none of these sorts, how- 
 ever good they may be (and often are they very good) in 
 other respects. Then in the contrary extreme to the mute 
 is the noisy hound, which speaks (as men sometimes speak) 
 without knowing why, that is to say, without the scent of 
 a fox, and often without any scent at all. He is a fit 
 candidate for the halter, as worthless. I need not, how- 
 ever, tell you, who have so often seen hounds going their 
 best pace, and over a country which enables them to hold 
 on that best pace for a longer time than most others, that 
 there are times when three parts of a pack run mute. On 
 occasions like these, however, no fault is to be found. It 
 is not in the power of a man to run and shout at the same 
 time ; at least, he is soon blown if he attempts it. Merely 
 wild young hounds often turn out well, with proper dis- 
 cipline and work ; but incurable hare-hunters, dwellers 
 in the scent, especially in covers after the body are away, 
 — those of delicate constitutions, together with the failings 
 before enumerated, ought never to be seen in your kennel ; 
 and, as these are the sort of hounds that chiefly come 
 under the denomination of drafts, it shows the difficulty 
 and labour, to say nothing of the expense, of forming a 
 pack on such a parent stock ; and, on the other hand, the 
 value of a really good pack, free from such a host of 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 369 
 
 culprits. Still I do not mean to condemn the purchasing 
 of drafted hounds, as I know several packs that have been 
 greatly benefited by a large draft from a well-established 
 kennel — some of which might have been put away for 
 very trifling faults ; others for the purpose of reducing 
 the establishment ; and, now and then, for the sake of 
 a good price offered by some wealthier person than the 
 breeder. Let me advise you, if you can accomplish it, to 
 secure the entire lot of young hounds, not put forward in 
 some well-established kennel. They are often rejected 
 for a slight reason, and often for no other than that the 
 entry is large enough without them. 
 
 " As respects shape and make, I need not say much on 
 those points to you who have been in the habit of seeing 
 so many good packs, nevertheless you shall have my 
 opinion, as promised. I have always been partial to 
 rather large hounds, provided they are free from lumber 
 and well put together, although I agree with the dogma 
 of the great sportsmen of the day, that 'the height of 
 a hound has nothing to do with his size,' — I should 
 rather say his power. I have found large hounds suit all 
 countries, which small ones do not, and they are generally 
 more docile than small ones. But I must have strength 
 and muscle combined, in proportion to size, with oblique 
 shoulders, but no flat sides : good loins, well let-down 
 thighs, widely-spread gaskins, well-put-on heads, straight 
 legs, and, of course, good feet. I have no objection to a 
 little rise in the loins, approaching to what is called the 
 wheel-back, for hilly countries, and ploughed ones, that 
 carry ; nor do I think much the worse of a hound if he 
 shows a LITTLE inclination to be what is called throaty. 
 I'll warrant he has a nose, but if he cannot go the pace 
 the nose is of no avail. I will, however, transcribe a few 
 lines, which I wrote some time back for my amusement, 
 on the subject of breeding hounds, and other matters 
 important to all owners of them : 
 
 " The breeding a pack of foxhounds to a pitch bordering 
 on perfection, is a task of no ordinary difficulty ; the 
 best proof of which is to be found in the comparatively 
 few sportsmen who have eminently succeeded in it, and 
 whose blood is in high esteem to this day. Not only 
 is every good quality to be regarded and, if possible, 
 obtained, but every" fault or imperfection is to be 
 avoided ; and although the good qualities of foxhounds 
 24 
 
370 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 are very soon reckoned, their faults, in shape and per- 
 formance, present a larger catalogue. Independently of 
 good shape, which combines strength with beauty, the 
 highest virtue in a foxhound is not merely the exquisite- 
 ness of his nose, but in his being true to the line his game 
 has gone, and a stout runner to the end of the chase. But 
 he must not only thus signalize himself in chase, he must 
 also be a patient hunter with a cold scent, and also with 
 the pack at fault. In short, to be a hard and stout runner 
 and a good hunter, and steady on the line, which ' a good 
 hunter' implies, constitute a j)erfect hound, when com- 
 bined with good form. Nose and stoutness, then, must 
 be principal objects in the breeder. 
 
 " The prevailing faults of hounds, too often innate, can 
 only be cured by education. The greatest of all are, 
 skirting, or not being true on the line, and throwing the 
 tongue improperly ; first, without a scent ; secondly, not 
 throwing it at all, or running mute ; and thirdly, on a 
 wrong scent, which is called running riot ; but the fault 
 of skirting, the greatest of all, is generally innate, and too 
 often incurable. Thus has the breeder of the foxhound 
 to guard against propensities as well as faults ; and it has 
 been justly observed that, of late years, the system of 
 hunting is so much improved — so much attention paid to 
 the condition of hounds, and their style of working, that 
 a master of hounds feels it as a reflection on his judgment 
 if one hound in his pack is detected in a fault. 
 
 " The selection of dog and bitch to breed from is a nice 
 point for a master of hounds or his huntsman to decide 
 upon ; but if he aim at excellence, he must keep his eye 
 on perfection. In no animal — not even in the horse — is 
 perfect symmetry so desirable — I may say necessary — as 
 in the foxhound, inasmuch as without it there is no 
 dependence on his services, however good may be his 
 nature. I will describe him, first, in the words of a very 
 old writer on those sul)jects, and afterwards in those of Mr. 
 Beckford, when it will appear that there is a strong re- 
 semblance in the portraits drawn by each. ' His head,' 
 says the former, 'ought to be of middle proportion, rather 
 long than round ; his nostrils wide ; his ears large ; his 
 back broad ; the fillets great ; the haunches large ; the 
 thighs well trussed ; the ham straight ; the tail big near 
 the reins, and slender towards the end ; the leg big ; the 
 sole of the foot dry, and formed like a fox's, with the 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 371 
 
 claws great,' The latter says — ' There are necessary points 
 in the shape of a hound which ought always to be attended 
 to ; for if he have not perfect symmetry, he will neither 
 run fast nor bear much work ; he has much to undergo, 
 and should have strength proportioned to it. Let his legs 
 be as straight as arrows ; his feet round, and not too 
 large ; his shoulders back ; his breast rather wide than 
 narrow ; his chest deep ; his back broad ; his head small ; 
 his neck thin ; his tail thick and brushy, and if he carry 
 it well, so much the better.' Now the hound that would 
 answer to either of these descriptions would disgrace no 
 man's kennel, and one resembling the latter would be an 
 ornament to it ; but, with regard to the former, it must 
 be borne in mind that it is from the pen of a sportsman 
 who wrote a century and a half ago, when there is reason 
 to believe, no animal in the form of the foxhound of the 
 present day was to be found in this or in any other country. 
 I am, however, disposed to think that there is much of the 
 real character of the foxhound in the description given by 
 the older writer, such as the long, rather than round, head ; 
 the wide nostrils (Pliny says they should be flat, solid, and 
 blunt), and the dry, fox-like foot. The 'boned back' 
 appears to spoil all, unless it means that gentle rise in the 
 loins, which many good judges approve of for hilly, and 
 especially ploughed countries, which ' carry,' as the term 
 is, after a slight frost, thereby adding much to the natural 
 weight of the hound. Beckford gives us the modern fox- 
 hound, and, in my opinion, perfect, with the exception of 
 the mention of one or two material points. ' His chest 
 should be deep,' he says, ' and his back broad ; ' but he has 
 omitted a point much thought of by modern sportsmen, 
 namely, the hack ribs, which should also be deep, as in a 
 strong-bodied horse, of which we say, when so formed, that 
 he has a good ' spur place,' a point highly esteemed in him. 
 Nor is either of these writers sufficiently descriptive of the 
 hinder legs of the hound ; for, although the large haunch 
 and well-trussed thigh of the former denote power and 
 muscle, there is a length of thigh discernible in hounds of 
 first-rate form, which, like the well let-down hock of the 
 horse, gives them superiority of speed, and is also a great 
 security against laming themselves in leaping fences, which 
 they are more apt to do when they become blown, or 
 tired, and, consequently, weak. The fore-legs, 'straight 
 as arrows,' is an admirable illustration of perfection in 
 
372 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 those parts, by Beckford ; for, as in a bow or bandy-legged 
 man, nothing is so disfiguring to a hound as his having 
 his elbows out, and it is also a great check to speed. In 
 some countries, the round cat-like foot is indispensable, 
 and it is agreeable to the eye in all ; but I would not 
 reject a well-shapen puppy in all other respects, for merely 
 somewhat of an open foot, provided his ankles or fetlocks 
 were good, a point I consider of the greatest importance 
 to all quadruped animals. The sboulders of the foxhound 
 should, especially, resemble those of a horse — oblique, but 
 at the same time, strong ; for a narrow-chested hound is 
 almost certain to be shaken by hard work, and conse- 
 quently, unlikely to endure beyond his third season. 
 
 "As Beckford recommends a small head, it may be 
 presumed the fashion on this point began to be changed in 
 his time, and has been since, I think, carried to rather too 
 great an excess, especially in one or two kennels of high, 
 repute, in which small heads are become one of the leading 
 characteristics. For my part, I like some length of head 
 in the foxhound, not being able to divest myself of the 
 idea of a cross with the old-fashioned pointer when I see 
 liim with a short head and a snubbed nose. Beckford also 
 says the neck should be thin. I should say, moderately 
 thin. I dislike a thin neck in any animal but a milch 
 cow and the stag ; at the same time, I dislike a short, 
 thick neck in a hound. His neck should be moderately 
 long and moderately thick, with the muscles clearly 
 developed ; it should rise gracefully out of his shoulders, 
 with a slight curve, or crest, and, to completely satisfy 
 the eye, should be quite free from the exuberances of 
 flesh and rough, hair on the lower side of it, called, by 
 kennel men, ' chitterlings,' or ' ruffles,' the hound hav- 
 ing them being termed throaty. There are, however, 
 numerous exceptions to this rule, as some of the best 
 hounds England ever saw have been throaty ; and 
 although I am aware that one individual instance will 
 prove neither the rule nor its exception, I can mention 
 Mr. Meynell's famous stallion hound, Guzman, who, 
 although throaty, was as good a foxhound as ever man 
 hallooed to, and the sire of many good ones. I agree with 
 Beckford that the stern of a foxhound should be thick 
 and moderately brushy ; and, if well carried, it is a great 
 ornament to him ; but there is one part of it which his 
 owner likes to see nearly deprived of its covering, and 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 373 
 
 that is its tip, which, when in that state, is an in- 
 fallible proof of his being a good and not a slack drawer 
 of covers, nor shy of facing the strongest of them in 
 chase. 
 
 "But to return to breeding the foxhound. In the 
 breeding of some animals, beauty of shape is often 
 dependent on the caprice of fashion, or the peculiar taste 
 of the breeder; but in the breeding of hounds no such 
 latitude can be given ; for here beauty, or true symmetry 
 of shape, is alone in reference to utility, and adaptatioii of 
 parts to the purposes to which they are to he applied. Yet the 
 breeder of foxhounds has one point further to go ; he 
 must, as I have already said, guard against propensities 
 which run in the blood of those animals, perhaps stronger 
 than their good qualities do, and will, sooner or later, 
 break out in their work, if they really exist. In the 
 election, then, of a dog for a bitch, or a bitch for a dog, 
 these matters must be most attentively considered ; and 
 no man should breed from hounds of either sex that come 
 under any or either of the following denominations, viz., 
 not of a tolerably docile sort, but very difficult to be made 
 to enter to their game ; or guilty of any of the faults I 
 have already enumerated ; and, above all things, if found 
 evidently deficient in nose. Good constitution should 
 likewise be looked to carefully ; but I would not reject a 
 stallion hound, or a brood bitch, merely for being slack 
 drawers, or for not being always at the head in chase, 
 provided they were themselves well bred, of good form, 
 and true to the line in cover and out. 
 
 " As to the proper- combination of form, that must be 
 self-evident to the breeder of hounds. If a bitch is a 
 little high on her legs, or light, she should be put to a 
 short-legged, strong dog, and, of course, vice versa ; if 
 rather light in her tongue, that defect may also be 
 remedied by an opposite property in a dog. Defects in 
 ""egs and feet can only be remedied by such means ; and 
 I3rtunate is it for the owner of an otherwise perfect and 
 e.iccellent bitch that such remedies are at hand. Length 
 and shortness of frame, when in excess, as well as coarse 
 points, are to be obviated and altered in the same way, 
 making allowance for the fact, that the laws of nature are 
 not invariable. Constitution can likewise be remedied by 
 having recourse to that which is good (and none so easily 
 detected as the dog's), and colour changed, if wished for. 
 
 \ 
 
374 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 It is, in fact, the judicious cross, as Bedford says, that 
 makes the pack comj^lete ; and it was the remark of that 
 eminent sportsman of his day, that he saw no reason why 
 the breeding of hounds may not improve till improve- 
 ment can go no further. The question may be asked, Is 
 not his prediction verified ? 
 
 " But the act of crossing hounds, as, indeed, all other 
 animals, although never thoroughly divested of chance, is 
 one of more difficulty than most people would imagine, 
 and one which, by its results, would often baffle, if not 
 puzzle, the profoundest of our modern physiologists. I 
 cannot go at length into this intricate subject, but I have 
 reason to know that great mistakes have been made by 
 masters of foxhounds in breeding too much in-and-in 
 from near affinities, instead of having recourse to an alien 
 cross. This was peculiarly apparent in two packs of long 
 standing which I could name, which were bred too much 
 in-and-in — one from a favourite bitch and her produce, 
 and the other from a dog hound and his produce. It is 
 asserted, and with truth, that a pack of foxhounds, to be 
 perfect, should have the appearance and character of being 
 of one family : but this expression is not to be taken in 
 its literal construction. It is in the conformity of their 
 character and appearance that they should bear a close 
 resemblance to each other, and not in their close con- 
 sanguinity. In my own kennel, indeed, I have been too 
 partial to^ my own blood ; and I reluctantly admit that, 
 although I believe I may say my hounds are unrivalled 
 in fine form, I may trace a certain degree of slackness to 
 that cause. On the other hand, the rare but valuable 
 combination of dash and nose which has made the pack 
 of a certain Duke a match for the cold and somewhat 
 ungenial hills of Oxfordshire, are to be attributed to his 
 huntsman — one of the best breeders of hounds of his day 
 — going from home for his blood, and sending his bitches 
 to the celebrated stallion hounds of the best kennels 
 within his reach. This, however, it must be remembered, 
 is not within the command of every man's purse, the 
 expenses attendant on sending bitches to a distance, 
 under any circumstances, being heavy ; as they must not 
 only be placed under the care of a trusty servant, but 
 there are other occult charges which none but masters of 
 hounds are aware of. It is, however, a notorious fact, 
 that the produce of some stallion hounds, if they have 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 375 
 
 but a fair chance by the bitch, seldom fail in turning 
 out well, and transmitting their good qualities to many 
 succeeding generations. 
 
 " As to the size of hounds, various arguments are made 
 use of by the advocates of large and small ones. Those of 
 the former assert, that they get better across a deep and 
 strongly-fenced country than the smaller ones do ; whilst 
 the admirers of the latter insist upon their being better 
 climbers of hills, more active in cover, and quicker out of 
 it, when their fox is gone ; and are oftener found to be 
 more perfect in form and shape. As to strict uniformity 
 in size, how pleasing soever it may be to the eye, it is by 
 no means essential to the well-doing of hounds in the 
 field, and has been disregarded by some of our first 
 sportsmen — the great Meynell for one, who never drafted 
 a really good hound for t)eing over or under the general 
 standard of his kennel. The great object of that eminent 
 sportsman — and such has been mine — was to breed them 
 with muscular power and bone, combined with as much 
 symmetry as could be obtained ; and to be equal in speed 
 and good qualities, rather than equal in height. For 
 myself, I am anxious to see my dog hounds rise to 
 twenty-five inches, or more, and bitches from twenty- 
 three to twenty-four ; but such a standard is very diflicult 
 to maintain ; and, after all, perhaps, it may be said of 
 hounds, as has been said of horses, that their height has 
 little to do with their size, as far, at least, as their powers 
 of action are concerned ; and I believe that, in all animals 
 that labour, a medium height is best. 
 
 " The amount of hounds to be bred annually will 
 depend on the average strength of your kennel, and the 
 number of days' hunting in the week, which the country 
 they are intended for requires. From sixty to eighty 
 couples of working hounds are as many as an}" man ought 
 to keep, being a complement for at least four days in the 
 week. This will require the breeding of as many couples 
 of puppies every year to allow for the usual diminution 
 of the entry, by malformation, under size, and that bane 
 to the kennel, the distemper, which often takes off a third 
 of them. As the period of gestation in bitches is some^ 
 what over two calendar months, they should, if they can 
 be spared, be put to dog in January, as then they will 
 litter in the spring, when the weather is comparatively 
 TN^arm, and the puppies will come early into kennel, 
 
376 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 generally be of good size and powerful, and be entered 
 without loss of time. 
 
 "It is said that the dog, in a state of nature, is subject 
 to few diseases, and for those he finds his cure by an 
 instinctive faculty : in a domesticated state he is subject 
 to many, and some of an awful nature, which may be 
 classed amongst the opprohria medicorum, no certain 
 remedy being discovered for them. Amongst these is 
 one called ' distemper,' not known to our forefathers, but, 
 at present, become a sort of periodical disorder in kennels 
 of hounds, to the destruction of thousands of young ones 
 annually. The first symptoms of this disease are, 
 generally, a dry husky cough, want of appetite, and 
 consequent loss of flesh ; extreme dulness, and a running 
 from the eyes and nose. As the disease advances, it is 
 attended with distressing twitchings of the head and, 
 occasionally, of the whole frame, while the animal becomes 
 very weak in the loins and hinder extremities, and is 
 greatly emaciated ; convulsive fits, too, often close the 
 scene. For the cure of this disorder I venture not to 
 prescribe ; there is no specific, but the severity of the 
 disease may be diminished by lowering the system of 
 young hounds by gentle doses of salts when they first 
 come into kennel, and, to a great extent, successfully 
 guarded against by very great attention to their diet, 
 cleanliness, and exercise. 
 
 " With respect to the age of hounds, few are found in 
 a kennel after their eighth year, and still fewer after 
 their ninth ; and not many hard-working hounds can 
 ' run up,' or keep pace with the rest, after their sixth 
 season. Hounds are in their prime in the third and 
 fourth year, but there are instances, rare ones, of their 
 hunting in their eleventh and twelfth. I should place 
 the average at four seasons. Old hounds are useful 
 in the field, but when they cannot run up they should 
 be drafted. The perfection of a pack consists in the 
 great body of it being composed of hounds quite in their 
 prime. 
 
 " I have always been partial to a good cry in hounds, 
 and listen to it with feelings not confined to fox-hunting. 
 Sounds, by association, become the signs of ideas, and the 
 great variety in the voice of nature must have been de- 
 signed to meet the peculiar tastes and purposes of the 
 countless multitudes that dwell on the face of the earth. 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 377 
 
 That the cry of hounds is a voluntary noise, proceeding 
 from a powerful organic impulse, is quite apparent, as is 
 also the purpose for which the impulse is given, namely, 
 to announce their having discovered the scent of an animal, 
 either obnoxious to their notice, or desirable as food ; and 
 also by calling their straggling companions together and 
 uniting their forces, the better to enable them to secure 
 their prey. On the other hand, here is mercy shown 
 to the prey they are in pursuit of. The tongue of the 
 hound gives notice of his approach ; and he does not 
 pounce upon his victim as the silent greyhound does, 
 which Gratius, in his poem on coursing, alludes to in the 
 following line : — 
 
 'Sic canis ilia suos taciturna supervenit hostes.' 
 
 " But the cry of hounds, melodious and heart-stirring 
 as it even now is, has lost much of its poetical interest 
 from the change man has made in the natural organization 
 of the animal from which it proceeds ; and we shall never 
 again hear of a master of a pack, after the manner of 
 Addison's knight, returning a hound that had been given 
 to him as an ' excellent bass,' whereas the note he wanted 
 was a 'counter tenor.' Beckford, however, was something 
 of the worthy knight's opinion on this point, for he says, 
 ' If we attended more than we do to the variety of the notes 
 frequently to be met with in the tongues of hounds, it 
 might add greatly to the harmony of the pack.' This is 
 well in theory. The natural organization of the dog is 
 musical ; he is, in fact, a victim to musical sensibility, 
 and we may reasonably suppose that the notes of his 
 companions in the chase may be as pleasing to himself as 
 to his huntsman ; but I do not think a huntsman of this 
 day would draft a highly-bred and beautiful young bitch, 
 as good too as she looks to be, merely because her light 
 fox-hunting tongue might be somewhat drowned, and now 
 and then lost, in the general chorus of the pack. He 
 would rather say, ' Let every tongue be to a fox, and I 
 leave the rest to chance,' But on a good day for hearing 
 it (there is a wide difference in this respect), what natural 
 sound is more delightful and animating than that of 
 hounds in full cry, in the deep recesses of an echo-giving 
 wood ? Neither would those writers who have availed 
 themselves of the beauty and sublimity which allusion to 
 sounds in nature stamp on their various compositions, have 
 
378 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 at all descended from their eminence, if tliey had, like 
 Shaksj)eare, delighted as much in bringing the soul in 
 contact with such a sound as this as with the rolling of 
 thunder or the howlings of the storm. 
 
 " The situation of huntsman to a pack of foxhounds is 
 one of great responsibility, and, if the breeding as well as 
 hunting of them be left to him, a very arduous undertaking. 
 Kor does it end here. There is a great call for judgment 
 in feeding hounds to answer every purpose, such as long 
 draws, severe days, and, at the same time, to go the pace 
 without showing distress, and to come home at night with 
 their sterns up and looking fresh. Here variety of con- 
 stitution increases the difficulty ; for, to satisfy the eye, 
 hounds should look level in their condition, as well as 
 even in point of size. One hound will not bear to have 
 his belly more than half filled ; another will not fill his 
 when he may ; and still each must be made equal in 
 strength and wind to the other, to stand hard work, and 
 go the pace without showing distress. A huntsman must 
 have a very watchful eye over their condition, which will 
 be affected by work and weather ; and he must be patho- 
 logist enough to foresee and provide against the alterations 
 which such circumstances produce. He had need also to 
 be a physiologist to exercise a sound judgment in breeding 
 his hounds after a certain form and fashion, which are 
 absolutely essential to their doing well in their work, and 
 at the same time pleasing the eye. Then look at him 
 in the field with a hundred eyes upon him, and a hundred 
 tongues to canvass all his acts ! Here he should be a 
 philosopher, and the qualities given to him, by Beckford, 
 at once make him such.^ 
 
 1 " ' A good huntsman,' saj-s Beckford, ' should be young, strong, 
 and active, bold and enterprising ; fond of the diversion, and inde- 
 fatigable in the pursuit of it ; he should be sensible and good- 
 tempered ; he ought also to be sober ; he should be exact, civil, 
 and cleanly ; he should be a good horseman, and a good groom ; 
 his voice should be strong and clear ; and he should have an eye so 
 quick as to perceive which of his hounds carry the scent when all 
 are running ; and should have so excellent an ear, as always to 
 distinguish the foremost hounds when he does not see them. He 
 should be quiet, patient, and without conceit. He should let his 
 hounds alone when they can hunt, and he should have genius to 
 assist them when they cannot.' Perhaps more than this cannot be 
 expected from humanity. Can we give a man higher qualifications 
 than a clear head, nice observation, undaunted courage, an accurate 
 ear, and a lynx's eye, together with a quick perception, endowed 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 379 
 
 "Without entering into the wide range of hunting, the 
 following maxims may be observed with advantage by a 
 huntsman : — 
 
 " In drawing for your fox don't be persuaded ahcays to 
 draw up wind. In the first place, you are in danger of 
 chopping your fox ; secondly, he is almost sure then to go 
 down wind at starting ; and thirdly, you may drive him 
 into the worst part of vour country, or from his point. (I 
 am, of course, supposing your pack to be quite steady, 
 otherwise drawing up wind is more desirable, as, should 
 any riot be going on down wind, the voice of the huntsman 
 will better reach the offenders.) "When found, get after 
 him as quickly as possible, if you have a body of hounds 
 with you, if not, you will have a better chance of a run 
 if you wait a little until the body come up. This is easily 
 
 with ready impulses for acting so necessary to each ? That he 
 should be fond of his profession and indefatigable in the pursuit 
 of it ; sober and exact, sensible and good-tempered. It is not 
 necessary that either a huntsman or a soldier should be a man of 
 letters ; some of the former have been scarcely able to read, and 
 there have been but few Ctesars who could both fight and Avrite ; 
 but a good and sound understanding is put to the test both by the 
 one and the other ; and each requires, in addition to such an 
 undertaking, a manly exertion of talent. With respect to gentle- 
 men-huntsmen, there cannot be a doubt that no man enjoys hunting 
 to perfection equally with him who hunts his own hounds ; nor can 
 there be any reason assigned why an educated gentleman should 
 not excel in any ardent and highly scientific pursuit, which huntiug 
 is allowed to be, an uneducated ser^-ant. Nevertheless it does admit 
 of a doubt whether, throughout the fox-hunting world in general, 
 gentlemen-huntsmen have been so popular as might have been 
 expected ; and in a few countries that have been hunted by sub- 
 scription an exception has been taken against the master of the 
 pack being the huntsman. That it is a laborious otfice when 
 efficiently performed, both in the kennel and the field, is well 
 known to those who have filled it ; but, labor ij^se voluj)tas, a pains- 
 taking zeal is often displayed by the master, which has been want- 
 ing in the servant ; and it was the remark of a certain nobleman 
 that, after the first fox, his huntsman was more disposed to find his 
 dinner than a second. In a well known ' diary ' lately published, 
 a perfect huntsman is thus described : ' He should possess the 
 follo\ving qualifications : health, memory, decision, temper, and 
 patience, voice and sight, courage and spirits, perseverance and 
 activity,' which requisites a still later writer on the 'noble science' 
 seems to think are oftener found in the gentleman than the 
 serv'ant. The first-named writer pithily observes, that, with the 
 attributes he awards to him, a huntsman will soon make a bad 
 pack a good one. If quick, he Mill make a slow pack quick ; if 
 slow, he will make a quick pack slow." 
 
38o THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 done, either by horn or halloo, if hounds are under good 
 command, and the convenient opportunity is seized upon, 
 and a whipper-in is in his right place. Keep near your 
 hounds in chase, with your eye on the body of the pack, 
 as well as on such as may be leading ; the body are more 
 certain to be right. Next to knowing where a fox is gone, 
 is knowing where he is not gone ; therefore in your casts 
 always make good the head. This you will do for your 
 satisfaction ; but hounds are seldom at fault for the scent 
 ahead, when the chase has been at all warm, that is, on a 
 fair scenting day ; for if the fox be gone forward wherefore 
 the fault? Good hounds will seldom or never leave a 
 scent ahead unless the ground be stained by sheep or 
 cattle, or when the chase leads over dry ploughed land, 
 hard and dry roads, and so forth. It is high odds that 
 your fox has turned to the right or to the left ; but, 
 although his point may be back, he cannot well run his 
 foil from the number of horsemen that are generally in 
 the rear of hounds. Recollect your first check is generally 
 the most fatal to sport, and for these reasons : your hounds 
 are fresh, and perhaps a little too eager ; they may have 
 overrun the scent for some distance, owing to having been 
 pressed upon by the horses, which are also at this time 
 fresh ; nor will they always get their heads down so soon 
 as they should do, from the same exciting causes. Again, 
 your check now generally arises from a short turn, the 
 fox having been previously forced from a point which he 
 now resolves to make ; and he will make it at all hazard 
 at certain times. When your hounds first throw up, leave 
 them alone if they can hunt ; but, disregarding what 
 some of the ' old ones' say on this subject, as inapplicable 
 to these faster times, don't be long before you take hold 
 of them, and assist them, if they cannot. I would not go 
 from scent to view ; yet hounds that will not bear lifting 
 are not worth having, for lifted they must be over stain 
 of sheep or cattle ; for, as Beckford observes, ' it is the 
 judicious encouraging of hounds to hunt, when they 
 cannot run, and the preventing their losing time by 
 hunting too much, that distinguish a good huntsman from 
 a bad one.' But do all this quietly as well as quickly. 
 Turn your horse's head towards the line you think your 
 fox is gone ; and the first moment you see all their heads 
 up, that is, if they do not hit him off, put your horn to 
 your mouth for one blast or two, and trot away to still 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 381 
 
 more likely points. If your pack will divide when casting, 
 so much the better ; iDut good hounds will be making 
 their own cast to a certain extent, whilst you are making 
 yours, by not keeping at your horse's heels, but spreading 
 as they go. 
 
 " When you have hit upon his point, if a single hound 
 goes off with a good scent, get the body to him as quickly 
 as you can ; but not so if the scent be warm. In the latter 
 case, your hounds will be in expectation of a fresh fox, 
 and will be in a hurry ; the hound that is forward will 
 be lifted, and, in all probability, you will have to seek for 
 the scent again. Go gently, and your hounds, if steady, 
 will settle to it. Likewise, if, when at check, you are 
 hallooed to a spot where a fox has been viewed, stand still, 
 and say nothing at the moment the first two or three 
 hounds throw their tongues. If you hurry the body on 
 immediately, the scent will often be lost should the fox 
 have been a few minutes gone. Again, when a fox has 
 been viewed, and you go directly to halloo, do not take 
 your hounds to the extreme distant point at which he was 
 viewed, but about a hundred yards behind it, and for this 
 reason : if you take them to the extreme point, and they 
 do not hit off the scent at once, you have then to make 
 your cast at a venture ; whereas, if you lay them on at 
 that distance behind it, you have somewhat of a guide 
 to that extent, as to the line to which you should draw 
 them. 
 
 " The following hints relate to hounds, either at fault, 
 or in difficulties. In trying back, hounds have this ad- 
 vantage. It is evident the fox has come the line up to 
 the point where the check occurred ; and he must be gone 
 either to the right or the left of it, or back. I make this 
 remark because so much has been said about the straight 
 running of foxes, which is far from true ; and the necessity 
 of persevering in the cast ahead with the fox, and back 
 on the foil with the hare. The more hounds spread 
 within reason in this backward cast, the better will be 
 the chance of making the cast a short one. Again, if at 
 check on a road or footpath (the latter not often run over 
 by foxes), when you observe some of your best hounds 
 failing to make it good on one side of either, it is reason- 
 able to suppose the fox is gone on the other. If your 
 hounds check in a cover in the middle of a run, and the 
 fox is viewed away from it, try and get your hounds 
 
382 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 together as mucli as you can in the short time that can 
 be allowed for it, before you cap them to the scent. It 
 generally insures a good finish from two obvious causes. 
 First, your hounds get fresh wind ; and, secondly, they 
 will have a better chance to carry a good head, which 
 generally insures blood, and blood well earned ; for the 
 fox is more likely to stand longer and go straighter for 
 not having been viewed by hounds when he broke. But 
 the most difficult point for a huntsman to decide upon 
 promptly is, when his pack divides, which lot is on the 
 hunted fox. If it happen in cover, his ear is his surest 
 guide, as the cry is louder and stronger on a fresh-found 
 fox than on one which has been for some time on foot. 
 If, when out of cover, your pack should divide on two 
 separate scents, you should get as near as you can to what 
 you imagine to be the chase, giving view-halloos every 
 yard you go, also sending a wdiipper-in to stop the other 
 hounds. Your choice will doubtless be directed by several 
 circumstances. You will first look for your truest and 
 best line-hunting hounds, and next, to the points your first 
 fox would be likely to make for ; and if your choice fall 
 upon the lot that are going up the wind, the other will be 
 more likely to hear them running, and, should they come 
 to a check, to join cry again, perhaps before a whipper-in 
 can get to stop them. 
 
 " Do not be dispirited at a succession of bad sport, for 
 it is not within your control, good hounds and good sport 
 not being, as has been before observed, naturally co-existing 
 circumstances. Be as zealous as you please in the field, 
 but temper your zeal with judgment, and do not weary 
 your hounds by long draws on days which bid defiance 
 to sport. It was once justly observed, that those who seek 
 for pleasure from the chase must ask permission of Heaven, 
 and the case still remains the same. Hounds may be im- 
 proved in their form and physical powers, but they cannot 
 hunt without scent, and without it they resemble a man 
 trying to run fast in the dark ; neither can they make 
 head against such fearful obstructions ; and, on stormy 
 days, with ^. very high wind, you had better go home 
 after the first failure. It is not generally known what 
 mischief even one such unpropitious day does to some 
 hounds. Do not set too high a value on blood, unless it 
 has been well earned by your hounds ; it is the result of 
 want of reflection alone, that has set any value whatever 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 383 
 
 upon it, when otherwise obtained. Kill a good fox when- 
 ever you can ; it will satisfy your hounds, yourself, your 
 field, and the farmers. Mob a bad one in a corner if you 
 like; neither he nor his produce will show you any sport; 
 but never dig out a good one, unless your hounds have 
 almost viewed him into the spout or drain, which he has 
 got into, and you can bolt him before the excitement of 
 your hounds subsides. Never break ground in a country 
 belonging to another pack of hounds, nor dig for a fox in 
 a main earth in your own. Many a vixen fox, heavy with 
 young, has been killed by this means, in the spring, instead 
 of the one that was hunted and marked into it by the 
 pack ; and be assured that sportsmen do not estimate the 
 goodness of a pack of foxhounds by the noses nailed 
 against their kennel-door. Lastly, keep your field back 
 from pressing on your hounds in chase, and still more 
 so when in difiiculties, as much as in you lies ; but do 
 not suffer your zeal to carry you too far on this point. 
 Remember the apostolic precept — Be courteous. Neither 
 approach too near the hounds yourself, when at fault, a& 
 the steam from even one horse is perplexing to them. 
 
 " Beckford says that, ' although it is not necessary that 
 a huntsman should be a man of letters, it is necessary that 
 he should be a man of understanding.' This also applies 
 to a whipper-in ; and I am bound to say, I never saw a 
 steady pack of hounds without at least one good and 
 efficient man at this post ; but I have seen many of those 
 red-coated youths, who might have been better employed 
 at the plough's tail — who, after the manner of Cicero's 
 lawyer, belonged to the profession, but not to the science. 
 Beckford assigns to him the most important duties, and 
 leaves me but little to add. I merely recommend him^ 
 when his huntsman is casting his hounds, to turn them 
 to him, when necessary, as gently as he can, compatible 
 with despatch, and with little noise ; by which means- 
 they will draw towards him, trying for the scent as they 
 go ; whereas loud and repeated rates and cracks of the 
 whip make hounds fiy to their huntsman at this time 
 with their heads up. When they are drawing properly 
 towards him, not another word need be said ; a whipper- 
 in merely riding outside of them will, or, at least, ought 
 to be sufficient. 
 
 " It is scarcely necessary to observe that a whipper-in 
 to foxhounds, to be perfect, should be an accomplished 
 
384 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 horseman, as nothing requires a much nicer and firmer 
 hand than the act of following and overtaking a hound 
 over open ground, to flog him. A good whipper-in, how- 
 ever, M'ill always hit a hound first, and rate liim after- 
 wards, and be able to hit him hard when occasion requires 
 it. I deprecate the very idea of wanton cruelty towards 
 any animal, but a riotous foxhound must not be trifled 
 with, if he is to be cured, without the halter, of his evil 
 ways : let the lash, then, fall heavily when necessary, but 
 at no other times. Above all, a whipper-in must have an 
 eye to skirters ; skirting is the least pardonable fault 
 hounds can possess, because they are then deviating from 
 their nature, and have not the force of impulse to plead, 
 which those which run riot after hares or deer have. 
 Great caution, however, is necessary in the use of the whip 
 to a young hound when on a scent. He may he right, in 
 which case he may never forget the check he receives, and 
 be slack in his work for the rest of his life. As study 
 precedes practice, and fits us for it, let me call your 
 attention to the following essential points, and remember 
 that we should not be content with mediocrity when per- 
 fection can be obtained: — 
 
 " You are about to take upon yourself a laborious and 
 difficult task, that of huntsman to your own pack, in a 
 country frequented by many of the first sportsmen of the 
 day. I wish you may acquit yourself well ; but recollect 
 what Smollett says of historians — ' that the world has been 
 able to produce but six good ones ! ' and it may be said of 
 a huntsman that, in all his operations, he has not only to 
 exercise his mental faculties at every step he goes, when 
 unravelling the intricacies of the chase, but actually to 
 tread a path nearly unknown to human reason. Your 
 only chance to shine is, by availing yourself of your 
 experience of what you have found to be good in others ; 
 to attend to the suggestions of superior judgment on points 
 on which you are doubtful ; and to abandon all popular 
 but erroneous notions of the old school. By doing this, 
 I doubt not but the disciple will soon get beyond his 
 master. 
 
 "I now call your attention to a few essential points. 
 Your kennel is a sound one ; you need be under no 
 apprehension respecting kennel lameness, about which so 
 much has been said and written, and all to little purpose. 
 The whole secret is this — if the subsoil of the ground on 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 385 
 
 which your kennel is built is damp, your hounds will be 
 liable to rheumatism, and be lame ; and the more porous 
 the soil is, the more likely will it be for the damp to 
 ascend, for which reason, sandy soils, which appear to be 
 the driest, because they dry soonest after rain, are the 
 worst for the sites of kennels. Some attribute the malady 
 to several other causes, such as washing, dressing, &c. I 
 do not believe washing hounds has anything to do with it ; 
 although it is possible the injudicious use of sulphur in 
 dressing or physicking may. Madness I hope you will 
 never experience. One thing, however, I think you may 
 assure yourself of, namely, that your hounds will never 
 go mad sjjontaneously — that is to say, unless from the bite 
 of a rabid dog. At least such is my opinion ; and it is 
 also the opinion of several veterinary surgeons, who are 
 now turning their attention to the diseases of dogs, as well 
 as those of horses. In case, then, of any hound in your 
 pack being bitten by a dog of whose state of health you 
 are ignorant, have him separated from the pack instantly 
 on seeing anything unusual in his appearance. Of all 
 other diseases, distemper excepted, cleanliness will be the 
 best preventive. As Somervile says — 
 
 * Much does health ou cleauhness depend.' 
 
 " As for distemper, you must take your chance for that. 
 There appears to be no specific as yet found out ; but 
 acting on the prophylactic system has answered with me. 
 I give repeated mild doses of salts to my young hounds 
 when they first come up, and then, should they take the 
 distemper, the disease is less virulent, and oftener yields 
 to those medicines which are found to be partly efficacious. 
 Physicking and bleeding and dressing, after the season is 
 concluded — all of which are essential to the well-doing of 
 your pack — will be attended to by your kennel huntsman ; 
 all }'0u have to do is, to see that they are properly per- 
 formed. During the moving of the coat is considered the 
 best time to dress. 
 
 " Over accidents you have no control ; rest is the best 
 doctor for strains of shoulder, stifle, &c. ; and the sharpest 
 astringents are to be applied to wounds in the feet, to 
 which hounds are so liable in their work. The most 
 efficient remedy for wounds was supposed to lie in the 
 dog's own tongue ; but experience has proved it to be, in 
 many cases, injurious. Spaying bitches is recommended 
 2:; 
 
386 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 by many ; and it is said that twenty couples of spayed 
 bitches would do the work of twenty-five or thirty 
 couples of open ones. Be it so ; still I do not recommend 
 the practice ; first, on account of the severity and danger 
 of the operation ; secondly, in that it deprives the 
 animal of perpetuating the excellent properties she might 
 possess. It is altogether a barbarous practice ; neither 
 should an operation of a similar nature be performed on a 
 dog hound, unless incurably quarrelsome in the kennel. 
 
 " Hounds, like horses, must be quite fit to go, or good 
 foxes will beat them. If you are to hunt your hounds 
 yourself, it must be yourself that must look to this point, 
 which must be accomplished long before the season 
 commences. In fact, it is by your summer work that 
 your hounds will be fitted for the winter's campaign. 
 But here you must dei3end upon your kennel huntsman, 
 inasmuch as you cannot be expected to be in the saddle at 
 four o'clock in the morning, at which hour your pack 
 ought to be out, during the hot months, and occasionally 
 kept out for seven or eight hours at a time, especially 
 towards the approach of cub-hunting. I do not suppose 
 you will always feed your hounds yourself, neither do I 
 think it absolutely necessary ; but everything depends 
 upon how it is done. Experience will convince you that, 
 whilst but few hounds in your kennel can be allowed to 
 eat their fill, there are many who must be fed to a 
 mouthful, and others enticed to feed, to render them 
 quite fit. It is on this account that, unless a gentleman- 
 huntsman always feeds in the hunting season, he had 
 better entrust it to other hands, guided by the result of 
 his observation of certain hounds in their work. If your 
 fixture is beyond ten or twelve miles from your kennel, 
 let your hounds (and horses) sleep out. They will be 
 fresher and stouter in their work the following day, and 
 decidedly better in a very sharp burst with their first fox, 
 as well as having more left in them for a good afternoon 
 fox, and he generally proves a good one — that is to say, 
 comparatively with the powers of his pursuers. 
 
 " Get your young hounds into kennel in good time ; 
 kennel food will improve their shape, and they will be 
 free from chances of accidents, as also of acquiring loose 
 habits. Remember that you will want a large kennel of 
 working hounds, and do not be in too great a hurry 
 to draft. At all events, you must put forward thirty 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 387 
 
 couples, which will allow for the ravages of the distemper, 
 should it attack them, and also admit of a second draft. 
 By no means enter your young liounds to hare. It is a 
 practice not founded in reason ; on the contrary, it is, 
 by opposing the natural propensities of the animal, after 
 haviiuj encouraged them, an unjustifiable exercise of our 
 dominion over him. 
 
 "You will, of course, go through the process of cub- 
 hunting. On this subject I have only to observe — begin 
 as soon as you can, and follow it up stoutly. Exclusive of 
 the necessity of entering and blooding your liounds, by 
 moving young foxes, you will make them safer from the 
 fox-takers ; and those which may be left in the country 
 will fly when found by your pack further on in the season. 
 But don't think too highly of blood further on in the 
 season. That it is desirable there cannot be a question, 
 when obtained by fair means, and well-deserved ; but 
 that it is essential to sport, I deny. Weather admitting 
 of good scent is essential, if you please ; but I can name 
 one of the first packs in England which had the best week's 
 sport they ever had since they were a pack, after nine 
 days' hunting, without tasting blood. Staghounds rarely 
 taste blood, and what hounds run faster, or work harder ? 
 
 "It has been said that a run with foxhounds should 
 resemble a successful battle — that it should be 'sharp, 
 short, and decisive.' My idea of a truly good run is not 
 exactly this. I think it should be not less than an hour, 
 and with at least two checks. I mean to say, there should 
 be difficulties in the course of it, the overcoming of which 
 proclaims the credit of both hounds and huntsman. I 
 would divide it thus : — I would have twenty-five minutes, 
 best pace, with a right good scent. Next, a check well 
 recovered, but not until the hounds and horses had 
 recovered their wind, and, even then, I like seeing the 
 pack brought to hunting, but at a fair pace, for about 
 fifteen more minutes. I would now wish to see my fox well 
 hunted up to, and finish with running into him at the end 
 of the remaining twenty minutes, at very best pace. Runs 
 exceeding an hour are liable to two objections ; they are 
 tiresome to hounds and horses, and are not what is called 
 business-like. For my own part, I have always seen more 
 satisfaction expressed by my field, after a very smart burst 
 of half an hour, than at the end of a run which we may 
 call a journey. 
 
388 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 " There are a few difficult points in hunting hounds, to 
 which it may not be amiss to call your attention. In 
 drawing covers, for example, you should observe the parts 
 most likely to hold a fox ; in fact, you should study your 
 country, as well as the science of hunting it. Foxes do 
 not generally prefer the most thick and dense part of a 
 wood for their kennel ; on the contrary, they often lie 
 near to the outside, and facing the morning or evening 
 sun, under the rays of which they much like to bask. 
 The art of distinguishing a fresh from a beaten fox, as 
 well as having a good eye to a heavy vixen, are requisites 
 in huntsmen, and to be acquired only by experience. 
 The being able to distinguish what is called a moving 
 scent — that is, the scent of a disturbed fox— from a drag, 
 is also to be acquired by the same means — that said thing, 
 called ' experience.' 
 
 " I like to see a huntsman alive and stirring, as well as 
 his hounds, when he enters a cover to draw for his fox. 
 Homer compares hounds cheered by their huntsman, to 
 troops encouraged by a general. There certainly is 
 something very cheering to the field in the 'cheering 
 halloo ' of a huntsman, and it is useful as well. Should a 
 hound get wide of the pack, or hang behind in the cover ; 
 or should any of the field be at a loss, which often happens 
 in woodlands, ' the pipe ' of the huntsman is an unerring 
 guide to all. How necessary is it, then — at all events, 
 how desirable — that, like Ajax, he should be ^orjv dya66sy 
 renowned for strength of voice, and, we may add, for the 
 melodiousness of it. He should likewise blow a horn 
 well ; and if he varies the blast, to make himself more 
 intelligible to his hounds, he will find his account in it. 
 I wonder why this is not more practised than it is. In- 
 dependently of the common recheat, why not have the 
 'view-horn,' as well as the 'view-halloo?' Too much 
 horn, however, is to be condemned, having a tendency to 
 make hounds disregard it ; still a huntsman would be 
 sadly at a loss without it, not only in getting hounds 
 away from cover and in chase, but in bringing them over 
 to him, when drawing large covers. 
 
 "As regards the use of the voice, the following hints 
 may be useful to you : — Never halloo unless you have a 
 good reason for doing so, A constant and indiscriminate 
 use of the voice is blamable in a huntsman, inasmuch as 
 his hounds, by constantly hearing it, will pay but little 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 389 
 
 attention to it. Hallooing to hounds is highly useful 
 when done with judgment, but it must be done with 
 caution. Never cap your hounds, icith halloos, to a bad 
 scent ; it makes them wild and eager, and never should be 
 done but when the scent is good. Hounds cannot be 
 brought up too quietly to a cold scent. With respect to 
 your field hallooing, I have no objection to a little of that 
 under certain circumstances. No one should halloo if he 
 is behind hounds ; but if a man, who knows what hunting 
 is, happens to be well up with the pack when they are on 
 good terms with their fox, a cheering halloo may do no 
 harm ; the hounds will not attend to it, and it is ex- 
 pressive of the pleasure of the hallooer. The huntsman, 
 however, who is endowed by nature with a clear, sonorous 
 voice, in a well-pitched key, and knows how to use it 
 with effect, contributes to the enthusiasm of fox-hunting, 
 and, consequently, to the success of it. 
 
 " Earth- stopping is best done by at once stopping all 
 main earths, having first stunk them out, as the term is, 
 by brimstone matches, &c., so as to prevent the chance of 
 having foxes stopped in them. It is by the knowledge of 
 main earths to fox-stealers that foxes are taken ; and if 
 all main earths in England and elsewhere were destroyed, 
 there would be more foxes and better runs. 
 
 " If one vixen fox can lay and bring up her litter above 
 ground, why cannot another ? And is it not proverbial 
 that what are called stub-bred foxes are generally stoutest 
 runners ? In the summer, let your w^hippers-in go about 
 and discover the mouths of drains, and have them staked. 
 Iron gratings will be stolen, and stakes will last two 
 years. 
 
 " Although I am of opinion that foxes do not destroy 
 game nearly to the extent which is laid to their charge, 
 still, as the preservation of it is now become so fashionable, 
 you must open your j^urse to the keepers within your 
 country, and a dinner to them, annually, with your 
 huntsman in the chair, will go a great way in procuring 
 their respect and good-will. It is stated, indeed, on good 
 practical authority, that, by opening the racks in covers, 
 during cub-hunting, and early in the season, a pack of 
 foxhounds help to preserve game, by destroying the 
 facility of its being snared in the unopened racks. A few 
 sovereigns, thrown amongst under-keepers in the course 
 of the season, have a very good effect in preventing blank 
 
390 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 days. However, to make assurance doubly sure, when a 
 litter of cubs is known to be on dangerous ground, let 
 them be moved, by stinking the mouth of the earth, when 
 the vixen will carry them off. As to purchasing foxes, 
 that expedient need not be resorted to in your country : 
 it is a bad system altogether, the greater part of them 
 being mangy. 
 
 " l3raw your covers closely, especially those of gorse, 
 with which your country abounds. I have seen foxes left 
 in them, frequently, after hounds have been drawing for 
 at least half an hour. They lie very close in such places, 
 and, even when found, are often difficult to force out of 
 them, by reason of the ground becoming stained, if a ring 
 or two is taken. Be sure you do not omit drawing your 
 outlying covers regularly at stated periods of the season, 
 and always throw off near the place fixed. It may not 
 matter to many of your field whether or not they may 
 have to trot away four or five miles before you begin 
 drawing ; but farmers and others, who have very short 
 studs — perhaps only one hunter — are much discomfited 
 by it. A brother master of hounds fixes for three weeks 
 in advance, which renders his hunt popular ; but it is not 
 every country that will admit of it. 
 
 "Should you have occasion to make gorse covers, 
 observe these hints from one who has made many. The 
 ground is all the better for being trenched to the dejDth of 
 from a foot to a foot and a half ; and it should be made 
 as clean and in as good condition as if it were to be the 
 seed-bed of turnips. The seed should also be minutely 
 examined, as it often fails from having lost its germinat- 
 ing projDerties ; and it should be drilled in the ground 
 and hoed, after the manner of a turnip crop. By keeping 
 it clean by the hoe, it will, if the seed be good, and the 
 land made dry, often liold a fox in the second year, but 
 will seldom fail in the third. A brother master of hounds 
 recommends sowing broom with gorse, but he is wrong, it 
 being decidedly inimical to scent. All artificially made 
 covers should be not nearer than half a mile, at the least, 
 to any house or village ; and if on a gently sloping bank, 
 facing the south, or south-west, foxes will like them the 
 better. 
 
 " Bred up as you have been, it is scarcely necessary to 
 remind you of your general conduct towards your field, 
 composed, as it will be, of some of the first sportsmen in 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 391 
 
 the world, as well as others of all descriptions. The 
 management of a field is no easy task, and, in one respect, 
 resembles that of a community. In reference to the 
 latter, a celebrated Roman historian, Dion Cassius, says — 
 'The times are bad when men are not permitted to do 
 what they please, and worse when they are permitted to 
 do everything they please.' Thus it is with men who 
 attend hounds ; they must be kept within some bounds, 
 and in the mode of doing it lies the difficulty. As * a soft 
 answer turneth away wrath,' so, perhaps, a gentle rebuke 
 to a too-forward rider, at certain times, has more effect 
 than a coarser expression. The more popular a master of 
 foxhounds is, the better sport will he have, because every- 
 one will endeavour to promote it — I should, perhaps, 
 rather have said, no one will wilfully mar it. As, 
 however, next to destroyers of foxes, the greatest spoilers 
 of sport are hard but injudicious riders, if ever you have 
 occasion to address them, you might avail yourself of 
 the following words, from the pen of an eminent sports- 
 man : — 
 
 " ' A good sportsman will, as often as possible, ride 
 parallel with the pack, not after them, unless, by short 
 turns, he is obliged to do otherwise ; by these means he 
 can see everything that is going on, and anticipate the 
 probable cause of the hounds coming to a fault. For 
 example, a village, a farmhouse, a team at plough, men at 
 work, sheep, and, above all, cattle, are the things most 
 likely to impede the scent. When any of these objects 
 present themselves in the face of hounds, you may then 
 anticipate a check, and by pulling up your horse, and 
 observing which way the pack inclined before the check, 
 their huntsman will be able to hold them on in the most 
 likely direction to hit off the scent again.' And you 
 yourself, as huntsman, will obtain a lesson here. If 
 casting is necessary, you should be directed by the pace 
 or degree of scent which you brought to the place where 
 your hounds threw up ; for if you came quickly, and 
 your hounds are not blown (be sure attend to that), you 
 make a quick cast in the direction towards which they 
 were inclining, by forming a small circle first, and a 
 larger one afterwards, if you are not successful with the 
 first ; but if your hounds are blown, you should invariably 
 cast them very quietly, and hold them back, for when 
 hounds have run hard for a long way, they lose their 
 
392 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 noses for want of wind, and run beyond the scent, 
 especially if there is water in their view. In a fair 
 country, and with hounds in good condition, it is my 
 opinion that, if the foregoing observations are carried into 
 effect, few foxes would escape. Patience is a great per- 
 former in the chase. All hounds, in these times, are well 
 enough bred ; and all hounds have power enough (if 
 judiciously handled), to kill a good fox. 
 
 "Treat your servants well, and, if you have fault to 
 find with their performance, rebuke them mildly in the 
 field, and lecture them afterwards in private. The sub- 
 mission of inferiors is not enough ; their hearts must be 
 won ; and I had rather witness human weakness than 
 human insensibility at any time, which latter propensity 
 every man displays who wounds the feelings of a servant 
 on every slight occasion, and this in the presence of his 
 superiors. As has been beautifully said, ' although a 
 servant, the spirit of a man is in him ; severity and rigour 
 may create fear, but can never command regard.' 
 
 "As regards the treatment of your horses, I need not 
 say much, still less instruct you how to ride them. I 
 would recommend you to breed your hunters, and, after 
 the method adopted by a friend of mine in Devonshire, 
 have them perfected in fencing during their colthood. It 
 is owing to the practice of the young horses of Ireland 
 scampering across the country in their colthood, that they 
 are such good fencers as we find them, unless it be at 
 timber, at which they have no practice. But my friend's 
 plan is this : he has every description of fence in a 
 circular space of ground, over which his colts are driven, 
 being held by a long cord by a man standing on a stage 
 in the centre, turning as they turn, by which means they 
 cannot refuse their leaps. Another eminent sportsman^ 
 goes a diftereut and perhaps better way to work. As 
 soon as his colts are weaned, and turned in a paddock, a 
 slight fence, about the height of their knees, is placed in 
 front of the shed in which they have their corn. When 
 they are quite used to walking over this, the fence is 
 raised six inches or more, sufficient to make them rear 
 up, and get their forelegs over, and they will soon find it 
 easier to jump, than to draw over their hind legs. When 
 they do this freely, the fence is raised still higher, till 
 they are obliged to make a good standing leap over it 
 1 See " Diary of a Huutsman." 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 393 
 
 every time they go into the shed to he fed, &c. This last 
 should be a single rail. When they are perfect at this, 
 which they will be in the course of a month, let a ditch 
 be digged,' with the earth thrown up for a bank, instead 
 of the rail, or by the side of it, which rail should be made 
 higher, to prevent his preferring it to the ditch. They will 
 at first walk into the ditch, then get their forelegs on 
 the bank, and the hinder legs on the other side of the 
 ditch ; but, in the course of a day or two, they will 
 quietly jump on the bank. After being perfect in this, 
 another ditch is cut on the other side of the bank, and 
 they will jump on and off, in a few days, as well as any 
 hunter. 
 
 " The same eminent sportsman has given a useful hint 
 on riding to hounds, which particularly applies to your 
 country. ' In the grass countries,' he says, ' where the 
 fences consist of live quicks and thorns, you will do well 
 to notice, when a hedge is cut, which way it is laid down 
 to the top, and put your horse at it oblic^uely, with his 
 head from the root of the thorn, and the top of the thorn 
 being weak will give way to the horse's legs ; but if he 
 goes straight against it, he stands a good chance of a fall ; 
 and if he goes obliquely, on the contrary plan, he reduces 
 his fall to a certainty, should the horse not clear any 
 strong plasher which rises when the horse's knees are 
 under it, but not so the other way.' 
 
 "Take the advice of an old sportsman, and do not 
 trespass too far on the willing powers of your horses. 
 Eather than insist upon their coming home, when showing 
 evident signs of distress, let them remain at some village 
 for the night, leaving a whipper - in in attendance. 
 Hundreds of good hunters have been destroyed by the 
 neglect of this mere act of humanity towards exhausted 
 nature in a noble and willing animal. 
 
 " On the subject of scent, I shall say nothing at present. 
 Few subjects ever excited more speculation, or the exercise 
 of more reasoning theory, than the one in question ; but, 
 like the peasant of the Alps, who looked abroad for 
 happiness, we do not appear to have acquired anything 
 satisfactory by the search. Harsh, drying winds, or im- 
 pending storms, appear to be the greatest obstacles to 
 hounds working, but in the face of all other apparently 
 unfavourable circumstances, brilliant runs have been 
 experienced. Of its fleeting nature, perhaps the most 
 
394 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 remarkable instance was related to me by a brother 
 master of hounds, on whose veracity I can depend. He 
 lost his fox at eleven o*clock, a.m. " At two o'clock, p.m., 
 he passed the place on his road home, and was told that 
 his fox had passed a certain gateway. 
 
 "'Impossible,' said his huntsman, 'for we tried that 
 point.' 
 
 " ' I saw him,' said a man at plough. 
 
 " ' And so did I,' added his fellow-servant. 
 
 "Sure enough the scent was there, and spoken to by 
 half the pack, although too weak to carry on the chase 
 beyond the next field. After this, who can speculate on 
 the certainty or uncertainty of scent ? 
 
 " As regards the strength of your establishment, it may 
 be considered presumptuous my dictating to you on that 
 point ; but let me recommend you to have an eye to 
 moderation in your kennel and stable. I consider' four 
 days a week as much as any man should hunt hounds, 
 and it is also the best arrangement as regards his kennel, 
 inasmuch as he then divides it into packs which, for the 
 most part, work together. By thus becoming acquainted 
 with each other, they work steadier and better, and 
 occasion the death instead of the loss of many a stout fox. 
 Seventy couples of good working hounds wiirsuffice ; and, 
 unless some unforeseen, untoward circumstances arise, you 
 will never have occasion to add to this amount. Of horses 
 I would allow you quite a full complement ; first, on the 
 score of your country, which requires a strong stable ; 
 secondly, because it also requires that things should be 
 done in a first-rate style. I should say, then, that you 
 should have fourteen horses for your' own riding, and 
 twelve for the use of your whippers-in. Let the latter be 
 horses of power, but with sutficient breeding for your 
 country ; strong horses not only last longer than slight 
 ones, but they are not so liable to being lamed at fences 
 by the superior strength of their muscles, and the firmer 
 texture of their skin. As to the mixture or separation of 
 the sexes of the hounds in the field, there are so many 
 opinions on the subject, that I scarcely like to hazard 
 mine. There is an objection against all bitches in the 
 pack in a woodland country, in the inferior power of 
 their tongues ; but that will not operate with you ; and 
 it is contended that, although quicker and readier in their 
 w^ork than dog hounds, they are not so patient in difficul- 
 
THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 395 
 
 ties. The safer plan, then, may be to mix the sexes in the 
 field. This will about balance the account. I would, 
 however, advise you to have more bitches than dogs in 
 your kennel, with a view to future proceedings." 
 
 We must now bring this tale to an end. Our hero 
 established himself as a master of foxhounds in one of the 
 best countries in England, hunting them himself with the 
 greatest satisfaction to his field, and being generally con- 
 sidered one of the most popular of his class. Availing 
 himself of his own experience as a sportsman, and also of 
 the suggestions of those who had long preceded him in 
 his calling, he distinguished himself as a huntsman before 
 the closing of his second season, and the fame and reputa- 
 tion of " Kaby's hounds " fillecl all the houses and stables 
 in their country. His private character, likewise, was in 
 no less esteem. Observant of all the relations of social 
 life, he gained the approbation of the good ; his example 
 went far towards reclaiming the evil propensities of the 
 bad ; and in the narrower sphere of private friendship, 
 society cannot often produce a better specimen of this 
 princely virtue than that exhibited by Frank Raby. 
 That he never entered into the married state may excite 
 surprise, but he had more than once been heard to assign 
 his reasons for remaining single. In the first place, he 
 was unwilling to disturb his excellent mother in the en- 
 joyment of Amstead Abbey as her home, and she lived 
 until he had passed his fortieth year. Secondly, although 
 he acknowledged the truth of the assertion, that the heart 
 of man is like a creeping plant, which withers unless it 
 have something round which it can entwine, he had im- 
 bibed the notion, and much that he had seen and heard 
 unfortunately tended to confirm it, that a man devoted, 
 like himself, to the sports of the field, was scarcely fitted 
 for the married state. 
 
 " Not one woman in fifty," he would say, " is a suitable 
 wife for such a man, and that one it might not have been 
 my luck to find." 
 
 Then, although far from being insensible to female 
 charms, he was somewhat mistrustful of the duration of 
 their power ; and the following couplet was often on his 
 tongue, when matrimony and its joys became the subject 
 of discourse : 
 
 "Love may expire; the gay, the happy dream 
 May turn to scorn, indifference, or esteem." 
 
396 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 
 
 At all events he remains a bachelor, and the (question 
 will be asked, " Who is to inherit the family estates at his 
 decease 1 " This is answered in a few words. A younger 
 brother of his father's, not hitherto mentioned in these 
 pages, has three sons, and to the eldest of them will the 
 entail be continued. But why has he not been mentioned 1 
 For the simple reason, that his residence has been in 
 India since his twentieth year, and his reason for having 
 made it such, was the honourable feeling that an im- 
 prudent marriage, as regarded station in life, had, as he 
 imagined, rendered him somewhat obnoxious to the rest 
 of his family. Imprudent it might have been, inasmuch 
 as it dropped him a degree in the nicely-balanced general 
 scale of refined society, in other words, to a certain extent 
 he had lost caste ; unhappy, it was not, for a better wife 
 no man possessed, and it is more than probable that this 
 very circumstance may have had some weight in the 
 breast of his kind-hearted nephew, in determining him to 
 continue in the single state. At all events, a bachelor he 
 remains, and rather an old one at present ; but his house 
 is occasionally the resort of all the best families in the 
 neighbourhood ; and, by his general conduct and deport- 
 ment to all classes of persons, he shows, beyond the power 
 of refutation, that it is possible for a gentleman to devote 
 himself, with enthusiasm, to all the sports of flood and 
 field, simultaneously with the performance of all the 
 duties imposed upon him, both by God and man. 
 
 FINIS 
 
 Printed hy Morrison & Gibb Limited, Edinburgh 
 
Webster Family Library of Veterinary Medicine 
 
 Cummings School of Veterinary Medicine at 
 
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 200 Westboro Road 
 
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