BIOGRAPHIES IN A NUTSHELL i8r 



more or less successful — but he has never been 

 superseded, never eclipsed." Before quitting the 

 subject of his death, let me quote the following 

 lines, which were originally composed for private 

 circulation by Lord Rosslyn — 



" The engineer by bis own petard slain, 

 Tbe eagle pierced by shaft from his own wing, 

 Are plaintive fancies, such as poets sing, 

 And touch the heart but coldly, through the brain. 

 But thou, dear George, in thine own sport thus ta'en, 

 In all the prime of manhood, and the swing 

 Of gallant gallop, struck stone dead ! The thing 

 Appals, and petrifies the mind with pain. 

 Bright, brave, and tender. Poesy's pet child ; 

 Romance and history's love alike were thine ; 

 Thy wit ne'er wounded, yet the contest won, 

 For at thy jests the gravest dullard smiled. 

 Last scion of an ancient Scottish line. 

 Whose old folks live to mourn their only son." 



I have always contended that his riding and 

 hunting abilities were equal to his literary abilities. 

 This opinion has often been contradicted by people 

 who do not understand Whyte-Melville's system of 

 hunting. His motto was, " Do the thing handsomely, 

 or let it alone"; and so, not being able to afford to 

 have three hundred guineas beneath him, he was 

 contented to see the fun of the fair without evincing 

 the jealousy of the so-called first flight men. His 

 horses were certainly not of the confidential sort. 

 On one occasion he was asked, " How many animals 

 are you master of this season ? " and his reply was, 

 " Not one, but I have four brutes in the stable that 



