FIFTY YEARS OF A SHOWMAN'S LIFE 



o' domestic conwict, transported far beyond the 

 bills o' mortality, and condemned to wander in 

 'eavy 'obnailed shoes amid eternal hacres o' dirt 

 and dandy lions. ' ' If there had been a Mr. Jorrocks 

 on the other side, he would, no doubt, have given 

 expression to an equally unflattering description 

 of the farmer's opinion of the Cockney. Happily, 

 these estimates, based on fiction, have since given 

 place to others more consonant with fact. 



Oxford, where I was born and bred, being a 

 good hunting-centre, within easy reach of the 

 South Oxfordshire and Old Berkshire Hounds, 

 some of my early hob-nobbings with farmers were 

 due to the chase, for as a boy I used to enjoy going 

 with a kindred spirit after the hounds when I had 

 the chance, though, of course, I had to rely upon 

 Shanks's mare for a mount, being only a " toddler." 

 When a bit leg-tired, we were sometimes lucky 

 enough to drop across a good-natured farmer, with 

 whom we had a nodding acquaintance, and he 

 would invite us to " come in and tell the missus 

 all about the run," which meant a cut off the 

 joint and nothing to pay. In the days when 

 agriculture was more prosperous than it is now, 

 there was a good sprinkling of farmers at every 

 meet, who, well-mounted, could hold their own 

 over a stiff bit of country. Since then, alas, times 

 have altered, and even before the war, the fields 

 were much impoverished. 



I early realized the special purpose for which 

 foxes were created, and the beneficence of the 

 arrangement which distributed them in those 

 quarters of the globe where sportsmen flourish 

 and abound. I had likewise a keen appreciation 



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