36 The Rev. Marmadiike Merrythought, 



And where, I should like to know, would you find a 

 better man for the post (an honorary one) than the Rev. 

 Marmaduke Merrythought ? — irreverently called by the 

 young and frivolous members of the hunt, " The Bishop 

 of Soda and B." 



^* Here's the Reverend ! " '* Hallo, your grace, you're 

 late!" are some of the exclamations our chaplain is met 

 with as he arrives at the meet at a hand-gallop, his hack 

 all of a lather. A fine, hale, athletic-looking man is our 

 pet parson. A trifle over fifty in years is he, and very 

 lightly he carries them ; if it were not, indeed, that his 

 closely-cut hair and whiskers were decidedly grey, one 

 would not take him for a day over forty. One can easily 

 believe, on looking over the man, all the numerous stories 

 there are of not only what the Reverend could do, but what 

 he can do. Of course he was captain of the Eleven when he 

 was at Eton ; and you might also be pretty certain that he 

 made one in the ten-oar. Old Etonians of his time talk 

 to this day of the great battle he fought with a butcher, 

 the pride of Peascod Street, in Bachelor's acre, one Windsor 

 Fair time. The butcher was the bigger and heavier man 

 of the two by a good deal, but Merrythought, major, 

 proved his master in the long run. There was a soft bit 

 in the butcher's heart, and a right-hander in the sixth 

 round, which floored the knight of the cleaver like one of 

 his own bullocks, settled the matter effectually, for, to the 

 disgust of his friends, the butcher turned it up most un- 

 mistakably, and would fight no more. So Merrythought, 

 ornamented with a black eye and with a sprained thumb, 

 put on his coat, and marched off to Eton, accompanied by 

 his admiring friends. 



Oxford and Christ Church followed, where he had not 



