3 oo THE HUNTING FIELD 



up to a thing or two, or he had too manly a mind to 

 contend with the lisping butterfly things he had to 

 encounter we know not, but certainly, after the death 

 of his mother, Sir Rasper seemed more likely to be a 

 bachelor than a Benedict. 



We sometimes meet men like Sir Rasper Smashgate 

 in the world — men who seem neglected by the sex, 

 just as we see women neglected by the men. Indeed, 

 there must be many such, for it was only this morning 

 we encountered the following amusing advertisement 

 in a Sunday paper : 



"Matrimonial Society. — Single ladies and gentlemen 

 really desirous of entering that state which heaven has adjudged 

 to be the most conducive to virtue and happiness, will find the 

 above truly deserving of their consideration and confidence. A 

 select party of ladies and gentlemen, combining rank, influence, 

 character, talent, and extensive acquaintance, influenced princi- 

 pally by a desire to extend the social comforts they have realised 

 to the hermits around them, whose single state is the result 

 alone, perhaps, of circumstances, have determined to improve 

 their leisure by promoting, as it lies in their power to do, 

 felicitous unions. To prevent imposition, a trifling sum is re- 

 quired as a proof of sincerity, and nothing afterwards, but on 

 the realisation of matrimonial bliss. Both parties mutually 

 bound to secrecy and sincerity. — None but respectable characters 

 need apply, who will be treated with the utmost respect and 

 decency." 



The prevention of imposition is a charming feature 

 in the foregoing. It is like the livery stable notice, 

 " for fear of accidents, pay before mounting." Sir 

 Rasper Smashgate had never been reduced to this 

 deplorable state, but the death of his mother, and 

 hearing nothing about matrimony, coupled with his 

 extensive prosecution of the chase in winter, and the 

 attractions of Epsom, Ascot, Limmer's door, club 

 windows, and yachts in summer, with shooting in 

 autumn, drew him more and more from the petticoats, 

 till at last disappointed mammas used to speak of him 

 as that "'orrid man, Sir Rasper Smashgate," and 

 indulge in the usual insinuation ladies deal in against 



