*U\yc ©It) Squire of S^orset' '^9s 



for the Farquharson blood was in high request. ' The 

 Druid,' who was present at the sale, has thus described 

 the memorable scene in his own charming manner : — 



' We had still one more visit to pay to Dorsetshire, and 

 on the morning of the sale we left the train, about 

 2 A.M., at Wimborne Minster. 



" Low on the sand, and loud on the stone. 

 The last wheel echoed away,' 



as the Blandford mail-bags were hurried off through 

 the mist ; and, after lingering a little near the church 

 porch till the clock struck three, and then making a 

 wild shot in the darkness at one of the three cross 

 roads, we pointed, as we hoped from previous hunting- 

 map studies, for the Eastbury kennels. We felt no 

 remorse for the beds we left behind us, as it would have 

 required more than Spartan self-control at that hour 

 for any Wimborne publican to arise and let us in, and 

 they were never put to the test. A walk on an early 

 summer morning, just as the bridal chuckle of the 

 blackbirds begins to open in every spinney, and the 

 weasels are never done crossing the path, and keeping 

 you in stone practice, is peculiarly exhilarating. How- 

 ever, Nature had no charms after half-past four ; and, hav- 

 ing once tried the same thing near Godalming, as a boy, 

 for the sake of cub-hunting with Colonel Wyndham's 

 hounds, we can publicly assure the owner of a hay-field 

 abutting on the fifth milestone out of Blandford that he 

 was the unconscious donor of most charming slumber. 

 The sound of a peal of church bells came floating up 

 the river, and awoke us at last ; and, shaking off sleep 

 and the hay seeds, we strode gaily on our way. 



' Blandford did not present any signs of unusual life. 

 One or two Masters of Hounds might be seen " stealing 



