Ralph Duckworth of the Wild Farm. 139 



he swings about '' sixteen stun," into the saddle, whenever 

 he mounts his hunter. We must add, that his port-wine 

 complexion is in no wise attributable to drink, for though 

 fond of conviviality, and social to a degree, Ralph is really as 

 temperate a man as ever breathed. To sum him up : his age 

 is sixty, more or less — probably more ; he is a sound 

 Churchman ; whilst in politics he is the staunchest of 

 Tories. Finally, he probably has not an enemy in the 

 world — certainly not in Buttercupshire. Ralph, though 

 nothing like so keen about it as hunting, is very fond of a 

 day's coursing in a quiet sort of way — he usually has a 

 brace of fairish greyhounds somewhere about the premises 

 — and it is a favourite game of his to assemble some of the 

 neighbouring farmers who are fond of the sport (it is a 

 curious fact, that farmers, though they are always enlarg- 

 ing on the mischief done by hares, are nearly all lovers of 

 the leash) and have a course over his farm, always prohfic 

 in hares. The old man on these occasions always acts as 

 judge, and, the moment the dogs are slipped, rides to them 

 like a man. He does not go in for red or white flags in 

 the orthodox style, but to hear him shout, ** The black 

 dog's won ! " or, '' The fawn's got it ! " and to view his 

 jolly old face, positively beaming with pleasure, as he 

 rides back to the coursers, is worth going miles to 

 witness. His judgment is never cavilled against, you 

 may be sure. 



Though he possesses the right of shooting over his 

 own farm, he is no gunner himself; indeed, whenever he 

 wants his birds killed, he is good enough to come gallop- 

 ing up to ask us to do it for him, at which we are always 

 delighted, as it is a remarkably good farm for birds, 

 even in bad breeding seasons, the hedges being of the 



