N1MRO&S NORTHERN TOUR. 10.3 



fog was at this moment descending that made it somewhat doubt- 

 ful if they got thither at all at least that night. My brother 

 sportsmen, however, will pardon my dwelling a little on the line 

 here, and those who are not sportsmen are aware how the human 

 soul delights to recall its past pleasures ; in fact, as Martial says 

 in his famous epitaph, 



-" Hoc est 



Vivere bis, vita posse priore frui." 



Let me then sit a few minutes longer in the arm-chair, waiting 

 for the fog to clear up, and give one other specimen of my host's 

 singular manner of expressing himself: " Allow me to ask you, 

 Mr. Williamson," said I, "did you ever see a perfect hound ?' 

 " Why," replied he, " I was once asked that question before, and 

 my answer was, one might just as well expect to find a human 

 being that had never deviated from the moral law, as a fox-hound 

 that would not sometimes do wrong." I was much amused at this 

 singular but pithy remark, rendered doubly impressive by the 

 forcible manner in which it was delivered, and I could not help 

 thinking it might have served for a comment upon the philosophy 

 of Plato. Man is the same now as he was in the days of Solo- 

 mon ; the impulse of his nature is strong but his morality is weak, 

 and no mortal can repair what Adam destroyed. Thus is it with 

 brutes. He that seeks to extinguish every unruly passion every 

 vicious propensity by an absolute control of their nature, will 

 find himself mistaken, and with the one, as with the other, fevr 

 have the merit to walk erect in a slippery path. 



" Naturam expellas furca, tamen usque recurret." 



It is natural to suppose that no man so independent in circum- 

 stances as Williamson is known to be, would remain in servitude 

 and hunt a pack of hounds, unless he were a real enthusiast in. 

 the noble sport. The following anecdote is very demonstrative 

 of the exhilarating effect of a fine run upon such a temperament 

 as his in short upon a real lover of fox-hunting. " Faith," said 

 one of his daughters to her little brother one day, "gin you want 

 ony thing of your fether, noo is the time ; he's just come home, 

 vary much pleased 'with a' that he has done." But when shall I 

 stop if I indulge in a recapitulation of all the anecdotes I have 

 heard related of this extraordinary man ? His zeal in the chase 

 has given birth to many. Coming once to a check in the great 

 north road, he found a horseman there in the midst of the pack, 

 " What the h // brings you here ?" roared Williamson, taking- 



