36 THE HUNTING FIELD 



whom no penny postage efforts would move. Wonder- 

 ful world this ! Men talk of their thousands, from 

 whom it is easier to extract an eye-tooth than a sove- 

 reign. 



In speaking of a " hunt dinner," we mean one of 

 those general hawls, that are meant to include " all 

 the world and his wife," every one friendly to fox- 

 hunting, and not the ordinary mess of sportsmen at 

 their own wine depot. The latter are generally very 

 pleasant meetings, especially when divested of form, 

 speechifying, health-drinking, and so on. Toasts 

 should never be resorted to so long as men can talk. 

 They are sure to bring conversation to a check. But 

 to business. We have had our Master in Cottonwool's 

 domestic circle, we must now transport him to a worse 

 scene a hunt dinner at a country inn " time being 

 called," as Nimrod says in the Quarterly "say a 

 quarter to six nearly our great-grandfather's supper- 

 hour," sundry boors in boots, and sundry boots in 

 shoes, are seen wending their ways in charge of sundry 

 buckets of soup, roasts and boils, sirloins, saddles, 

 rounds, geese, sucking pig, a haunch of venison, game, 

 tarts, celery, etc. By the time the odd quarter of an 

 hour has elapsed they have got them set square on the 

 table, and all having cooled alike, " the Master," who 

 sometimes plays the double part of "host" and 

 " cock guest," leads the way from the travellers' room, 

 where the company have been deposited in the enjoy- 

 ment of damp great coats and stale smoke, followed 

 by all the " train band bold," who forthwith commence 

 a desperate onslaught on the wittles. 



But our humane disposition shrinks from describing 

 the horrors of the evening the hot wine and cold 

 soup the fatless venison and the gravy-congealed 

 mutton. Taking old Cottonwool's for the alternative, 

 we may truly say "the last state of this Master is 

 worse than the first." Wool's had the redeeming 

 quality of women here it is all men. Instead of first 



