126 NIMROUS NORTHERN TOUR. 



to go to cover, our first breakfast was to be upon the table 

 exactly at seven o'clock ; and at half-past seven Mr. Callander 

 and myself were on our hacks Mr. C. on a trotter for which he 

 had given two hundred guineas, and I suppose the fastest in 

 Scotland, bred by Mr. Theobald, of Stockwell, and myself on 

 one of Kings' " hunters," which was certainly an excellent hack 

 on our road to a second breakfast at Spottiswoode, sixteen miles 

 from Kelso, a mansion-house not then quite completed, built on 

 a domain manufactured out of a black turbary bog ; and where 

 anything wanted to display the unrivalled energy of the British 

 mind, the reclaiming, by draining, the planting, improving, and 

 building a mansion upon this black bog would do the business. 



After a good second breakfast at this hospitable mansion, the 

 duke's hounds made their appearance, that place being the fix- 

 ture for the day. Now it is not every man who is considered fit 

 to be trusted on the back of a duke's horse with hounds, but a 

 still higher honour was conferred on me this day. A horse 

 called Perseverance, the only horse in the stud the Duchess of 

 Buccleuch ever rides with hounds, was brought to Spottiswoode 

 for me, and a most perfect hunter did he appear to be. But I 

 must make short work of this day's proceedings. 



It has been well said 



" Who from the 1 morning's brightest ray 

 Can promise what will be the day ?" 



and although a finer morning than this was never seen on the 

 last Saturday in November, the rain began to pour down as soon 

 as we proceeded to business ; and although there was no lack 

 of foxes, there were no hopes of sport. Add to this, Persever- 

 ance was clipped, and shivered with cold, as we stood, sheltering 

 under some fir-trees ; and as the hounds were only running from 

 one bog to another, there was no inducement to follow them. 

 Fearing then I might injure this valuable horse, I galloped away 

 to the village of Lauder, where my hack was stationed, and 

 after a ride of nearly thirty miles in incessant and hard rain,, 

 arrived at Chester Hall, twelve miles from Edinburgh, in a con- 

 dition that does not require to be described. 



Chester Hall, in the parish of Oxenford, twelve miles from 

 Edinburgh, is (or at least at this time it was, for he has pur- 

 chased an estate in the neighbourhood, on which he was about 

 to build himself a house) the residence of the Hon. William 

 Keith, a captain in his Majesty's navy, and the only brother ot 

 the Earl of Kintore. Here I found assembled what may be 

 called a family party, and none the worse for that ; for it is in 



