THE " GOINGS ON" AT BRAMSBY HALL. 293 



Stiles' s in Blackstone without finding a common ancestor. But, my 

 clear uncle, are you to be insulted, and is your table to be invaded 

 by a yellow jackanape, whose relationship to your wife, however 

 near it may be, is, I believe on my conscience, entirely of their own 

 creating ?" 



The last hint fired the Bramsby blood ; I saw by his eye that the 

 old gentleman was in a temper to hear any proposal with glee that 

 tended to Mr.Le Grange's detriment. " Suppose we hunt to-morrow ?" 

 I continued ; " your horses and dogs are in condition ; the weather is 

 made for hunting, and foxes are plentiful." 



The eyes of the 'squire glistened with delight. " Mount Mr. Le 

 Grange on Gunpowder, and if he does not carry him to the devil, 

 the old horse has forgotten his go, or the young gentleman is less 

 of a tailor than he looks/' 



ff You will never get him to go," said my uncle, doubtingly. 



ee Leave that to Bessy and me, and only conceive the fun of seeing 

 Gunpowder carry him at every thing, through every thing, and over 

 every thing. The old huntsman will live a century on the^ remem- 

 brance." 



A few objections, which became feebler every moment, two more 

 bottles of old port, and my uncle entered heart and soul into the 

 project; for a genuine foxhunter, though he will not pistol his friend 

 in the dark, or dirk him at the banquet, feels no scruple at leading 

 him to death as certain in the way of his profession. On joining the 

 ladies, I was in constant terror lest my uncle should betray our plot 

 by the excess of his exultation. We had, as he anticipated, the ut- 

 most difficulty in getting Mr. Lie Grange to accompany us. He had 

 no breeches no top-boots ; he did not like hunting he thought it 

 a barbarous sport. Never did ancient gambler woo pigeon to the 

 ecarle table, or luckless lover implore a reluctant beauty, with half 

 the zeal which I displayed on tiat occasion. But all my efforts 

 would have been unavailing, had not that angel Bessy interposed, 

 (how dearly I loved her for it !). 



tf I shall ride myself to-morrow," she said, " and see the dogs throw 

 off; and I am sure (turning to Le Grange) you have too much 

 gallantry to allow me to return alone. You will follow me so far, 

 as my squire ?" 



" Follow thee!" sighed the unsuspecting victim (Mrs. B. was not 

 in the room) " I would follow thee to the end of the world." 



" But not back again, or I aua much mistaken/' I muttered. 



This point gained, I wishewno more; for I knew Gunpowder 

 was not the horse to turn back after the fox was found, and I never 

 yet saw the man who could make Gunpowder go any course but his 

 own. 



The morning broke a genuine hunting morning ; a light shower 

 had just bedewed the grass ; a gentle south wind crisped the surface 

 of the lake before the windows, and Phoebus hid his face in the 

 clouds, as if deserting his votary. The horses were at the door. 

 There was my uncle's chestnut snorting the sport ; there was Bessy's 

 pet pony, and there was Slow-and-Sure (so Joe had christened 

 Gunpowder), with nose to the ground, looking the veriest rip ever 



M. M. No. 105. 2 Q 



