COL. ANSTRUTHER THOMSON 409 



three a.m. by my night lamp. Oh ! the dreary 

 sameness. I seem the mere sickly shadow of the 

 queerly dressed enthusiast who bustled about Scot- 

 land among bullocks and rams a.d. 1862-64. How- 

 ever, it is my lot, and I must bear it, and I may get 

 all right again with rest. I am so glad that I was in 

 Scotland when poor Hall Maxwell was in his prime 

 as well as old Dick, whose successor has soon 

 departed. 



" Faithfully yours, 



" Henry Dixon." 



" 59 Warwick Gardens, Kensington, 

 " London, W., z<^th October, 1869. 



" Dear Sir, — 



" I have forwarded you the Gentleman s 

 Magazine with your little article in. Is ' Weekly 

 Hall Wood ' right ? I think there should be a slight 

 notice of the great Waterloo Gorse run — a slight 

 sketch of it, your notion where you changed foxes, the 

 hounds which did best, and ' sich a getting home,' etc. 

 — to make the thing complete. Poor Fred Thursby, 

 clergyman at Abington Abbey, is dead. I think 

 you must have known him — a martyr to gout, which 

 attacked his kidneys. Such fun at the harrier sale. 

 The Windsor people were quite excited. An 

 eighteen-year-old white mare, which was expected 

 to go at 35 guineas for a brood mare, made 91 

 guineas. Her Majesty has never liked them ever 

 since Prince Albert had two tumbles in her august 

 presence, and was taken home out of fair pity in 

 the carriage. They won't keep on the old hunts- 



