THE MASTER— MONTH, OCTOBER 9 



Drinking, however, is only half his work. That is 

 a duty he owes his host. He must eat out of compli- 

 ment to the lady. Some ladies, too, are so uncon- 

 scionable. The more a man eats the more they 

 require him to eat. " Oh, you must let me send you 

 some of this. Oh, you must take a little of that. Oh, 

 yow must try some of t'other. You really eat nothing. 

 Dinner eater ! I never saw such a dinner eater ! 

 Dinner's wasted on you, however." 



Kind hostess, let us say a word on behalf of our 

 poor Master. Give what you give freely and heartily, 

 but give your guests credit for knowing their stomachs 

 better than you do. 



What with good dinners, middling dinners, and 

 bad dinners — what with good wine, middling wine, 

 and bad wine — what with the room always at fever 

 heat, have we not made out our case that a Master 

 requires the propensities of Bacchus, with the appetite 

 of a Dando, the digestion of an ostrich, and the fire- 

 defying properties of a salamander, or of Monsieur 

 Chabot, the Fire King? We think we have, even 

 to the satisfaction of Susannah aforesaid. 



Dining out is almost indispensable for a Master of 

 Foxhounds, for the English never fancy a friendship 

 fairly cemented until it has been riveted on the altar 

 of the mahogany. It is convenient too, in some 

 cases, such as hunting a distant part of the country ; 

 besides, it makes an agreeable change, especially 

 when the party is not composed entirely of the same 

 people as have been " hob-a-nobbing " it at " the club " 

 for weeks together. This is one of the mistakes non- 

 hunting people make. They fancy that none but 

 foxhunters will do to meet foxhunters. Our friend 

 Cottonwool's three fair, blooming, buxom daughters 

 make an agreeable variety ; but if " Wool " had not 

 had them, he would have filled their places with 

 three other "red or orange - vermillion coats," if, 

 indeed, he had the "Master" at all, which is more 



