LORD EVERGREEN 231 



of a fine word) of a friend, and attribute the term to 

 the gold tassels or tufts worn by noblemen at our 

 universities, which distinguish them from the common 

 herd, just as a fox's brush distinguishes it from a hare. 

 Indeed there can be no doubt that that is the origin 

 of the term, and we will thank the next dictionary 

 maker to add "Tuft Hunter" to the T's, and de- 

 scribe them as "a breed of men whose offence is 

 rank," or a breed of men desperately smitten with 

 title. Rank at school doesn't go for much — at least 

 not at our great schools where lords abound, and a 

 marquis may be fag to a milliner's son, but at college 

 rank dawns forth like a meteor, and subsequent 

 adulation atones for early familiarity and humiliations. 

 Then the fine nose of the Tuft Hunter begins to 

 show itself, and men lay the foundation of characters 

 that generally remain with them to the end of life — 

 desperate Tuft Hunters. 



Like hounds, Tuft Hunters may be divided into 

 different classes — varying like hounds in their keen- 

 ness, energy, and determination. There is the bold, 

 open-mouthed, dashing, foxhound Tuft Hunter, who 

 runs at a lord as if he would eat him— who persecutes 

 him — who lards him with " lordships," and does not 

 know how to be subservient and obsequious enough. 

 There is the pottering, dribbling, babbling harehunt- 

 ing Tuft Hunter, who deals more with lords in con- 

 versation than in reality, and there is the lurching 

 Tuft Hunter, who professing contempt for the game, 

 never misses an opportunity of having a run at it 

 — with several minor varieties not important to our 

 purpose. 



We might carry our kennel simile further, and 

 divide the followers into sexes. Women are generally 

 desperate Tuft Hunters. There is no denying that. 

 Many a poor man has been made to stoop to the 

 scent who has no natural inclination that way. Tuft 

 Hunting is an instinct that pervades nearly the whole 



