NIM ROD'S NORTHERN TOUR. ZL 



Mr. Marley. " Oh that's bad ; but we call it riding on the- 

 line." 



Now excuse the inadequacy of the metaphor, but I was about 

 to say " Why not call it " rumpingthem ?'' when, afraid of driv- 

 ing the jest too far, I changed the nature of our discourse, not 

 however without the reflection, that if every undergraduate a-t 

 our universities were to go through his examination for his " Lit- 

 tle-go " as well as Mr. Marley had gone through his, by me, one 

 description of plucking would be at an end. Another reflection 

 also presented itself : It is one of the greatest compliments to 

 fox-hunting, that it is the delight of every condition, and of every 

 age ; and there can be no reason why the man who makes the 

 coat, should not be a sportsman as well as the man who wears it. 

 Whether or not Mr. Marley is a sportsman I had no opportunity 

 of informing myself ; but of this I am quite sure he is an oblig- 

 ing, good-natured person, and " suum cuique," give every one 

 his due a most excellent tailor, of which I had proof in a pair 

 of the best, and best-fitting, dress trousers I ever put upon my 

 person in my life. 



I have now little more to say of my agreeable visit to Hamster- 

 ley than that, on my departure from it, the command was re- 

 peated that I should revisit it on my return, but circumstances 

 placed it out of my power to do so. 1 had the pleasure of spend- 

 ing one day at Elswick with Mr. Hodgson, M.P. for Newcastle, 

 an old friend and schoolfellow of Mr. Surtees, jun., a gentleman 

 of considerable talent and information ; and of spirit too, as will 

 be allowed, I think, when I state that when barely of age he 

 contested the large and populous town of Newcastle against the 

 former members, who had so long represented it that it was then 

 almost regarded as their own borough. He has a splendid house 

 within two miles of Newcastle, a town in which there appears to 

 be as much business stirring as in any other that I could name, 

 if not somewhat more. But it is a devilishly Tartarus-like 

 looking place, and whoever lives in it with a view of making a 

 fortune, should not be long about it. 



On Saturday, the 8th, I accompanied Mr. Surtees in his 

 carriage to Newcastle, for the purpose of pursuing my journey, 

 and at twelve o'clock was seated on the box of the Royai 

 William coach (I like that name too,) which starts at that hour 

 for Berwick-upon-Tweed. It was now I found that I had taken 

 leave of coaching, in anything like its proper form at least for 

 some time to come, for the horses were slow, the coachman 

 slower ; and the stupid, uncoachmanlike, unsafe practice of 

 running the leaders' reins through the throat-latches, instead of 

 the head terrets of the wheel-horses, was the order of the 



