LADY FOXHUNTERS 299 



not felt one tally-ho ! banish old dull care, for as 

 every Frenchman has a " suit," so every Englishman 

 has a sorrow, and it is only by increasing their size 

 that we are sensible of the smallness and absurdity 

 of the old ones. It has been well said that an 

 Englishman is only thoroughly happy when he is 

 miserable. 



Be that as it may, however, Sir Rasper Smashgate 

 had as few cares as most people. His hopes and 

 fears were centred in his stud, with the addition, 

 perhaps, of his razors. If he got a good shave in the 

 morning he was generally happy for the rest of the 

 day, for he had twelve as good hunters as a sixteen 

 stone man could desire, with two thorough-bred 

 hacks, and a stud-groom equal to his business, and 

 yet not above it. Added to this, Sir Rasper was in 

 the heighday of youth, stood six feet high in his 

 stocking-feet, with a great deal of good land, and a 

 great deal of money in the funds — two most desirable 

 concomitants — moreover, he never laid out a shilling 

 in pills. 



Smasher (for so he is called by his friends) came 

 to his title from an uncle, at an earlier period than 

 uncles are generally in the habit of putting off their 

 shoes, before which our hero had lived at home with 

 his mother, who had long held a commission to get 

 him a wife — a commission that we regret to say she 

 had departed this life without executing. Smashgate 

 was an exemplification of the good and dutiful son, 

 for he was ready to marry any one his mother re- 

 commended; but thinking she would be the best 

 judge of the article, he just left it to her to suit him, 

 as he would the choice of a piece of linen for shirts, 

 or as he left it to Tilbury to supply him with horses. 

 Somehow Sir Rasper was never much in society, 

 though many great ladies had him high on their list 

 of " eligibles," and some had gone to no little trouble 

 in "touting" him. Whether his mother had put him 



