HISTORY F H E R E F R I) CAT T L E 



them. Amongst them were Shorthorn breeders 

 to my knowledge. I will give you an instance 

 of one of these of much prominence, which 

 came under my observation. My brother-in-law, 

 Mr. Marmaduke Matthews, lived a close neigh- 

 bor to the well-known rich commoner, Mr. 

 Langston of Sarsdon, Oxfordshire (whose only 

 daughter and heiress married Earl Ducie), the 

 well-known purchaser of the Bates Shorthorns, 

 at Earl Ducie's sale, that were subsequently pur- 

 chased by Mr. Jonathan Thorn and Mr. L. G. 

 Morris, brought to this country, and with which 

 all breeders of Shorthorns are familiar. 



While staying with my brother-in-law he pro- 

 posed to 'drive me over to see Mr. Langston's 

 Shorthorns, and as I had frequently met Mr. 

 Langston in the hunting field and once sold him 

 one of the best hunters he ever had in his sta- 

 bles, at a high figure, and which proved a great 

 favorite with him, I readily accepted. We drove 

 to the house of Mr. Savage, who was Mr. Lang- 

 ston's steward, which situation affords him a 

 splendid home, and one of his best farms, which 

 he rented. There was another farm he managed 

 for Mr. L., which surrounded Mr. L.'s mansion 

 and pleasure grounds. Mr. Savage and myself 

 had previously met at fairs and markets and 

 were pretty well known to each other ; therefore 

 etiquette was not called into question, arid an 

 introduction was unnecessary. 



We had a good, hearty shake, and I was ten- 

 dered a hearty welcome. "I will send over to 

 the house and tell Mr. L. you are here, as I 

 know he will be glad to see you; he has the 

 old hunter you sold him, and although now six- 

 teen years old he is about as good as ever. He 

 often speaks of the daring way you used to ride 

 across the country here, and that you were as 

 close to the tail of the hounds as any of them.'' 



Here I must digress a little, and may be 

 considered a little egotistical, but never mind. 

 Probably there was not a more daring rider in 

 the whole of the Duke of Beaufort's hunt, and 

 at the age of twenty-five I never knew what 

 fear was. I sold many horses to the nobility 

 and gentry, and I was a fair judge of a hunter, 

 but did not spare them when under me and the 

 saddle. Bullfinch, brook, wall, or awa-awa never 

 came amiss to me. The horse had to take them 

 if there was the least prospect. By this daring 

 I was as well known to the Duke of Beaufort's 

 hunt as any man. We had just got through our 

 "bread, cheese and ale" when Mr. L. appeared, 

 seated on the old horse. He held out his hand 

 and gave me a hearty shake, which was the 

 grip of the true English sportsman. "Do you 

 know the old horse?" said he. "I do, and it 

 calls to mind the happy days through that win- 



ter in which 1 rode him." "Ah/" said he, "you 

 were enough for any of them then, and the old 

 horse was master of your weight. My careful 

 riding has saved him until now, and he is good 

 yet." 



We took a survey through the Shorthorns, 

 which were all of the Bates tribes, a draft in 

 the beginning from the Earl of Ducie. Al- 

 though then considered in the height of fashion 

 and petted by fancy men, I must say I never 

 saw a worse herd. They seemed to me longer 

 and coarser in the legs than any of the tribes 

 I had seen in America, or even what I had 

 seen at Kirklevington. I asked Mr. Savage if 

 there was any propriety in keeping such stock. 

 This brought out a long argument between my- 

 self and Mr. Savage. He held up for style and 

 grandeur, and I went for compactness, sub- 

 stance and quality. I condemned their thin 

 hides and blubbery handling, at which Mr. Sav- 

 age was a little inclined to take offense. Mr. 

 Langston laughed, and Mr. Matthews said but 

 little, as he was breeding unpedigreed Short- 

 horns to a Hereford bull, raising steers and 

 sending them to market at two years old, by 

 which he made a handsome profit. There were 

 lots of young bulls. If I had been a Shorthorn 

 breeder I would not have taken either as a gift. 

 "Who do you get to buy these bulls, Mr. Sav- 

 age?" said I. "Oh! We let our tenants have 

 them to improve their stock." At this period I 



PRACTICING FOR THE SHOW. 



saw a lot of white-faces in a field at a little 

 distance. "What are you doing with those white- 

 faces?" I said. "Oh, they are some two-year- 

 old Hereford steers I bought at Hereford fair 

 to feed." We took a survey through them; 

 they were a very nice lot; probably not quite 

 so good as those of graziers who picked them 

 up of the breeders before the fair, but they were 

 even, and showed good breeding. They were 



