"skittles." 123 



her like a glove, and a bit of cherry ribbon round her 

 neck. In short she was a perfect dream, she made a 

 remark to her pilot as she passed by which we both hear 

 distinctly, and which made a lasting impression on me. 

 I am afraid I cannot give it word for word, but it was 

 to the effect that, she felt convinced, that when she 

 reached home, a certain portion of her anatomy would 

 probably be of much the same hue as the tie she wore 

 round her neck. I noticed my dear old father biting his 

 lips to suppress his merriment, and trying to look as if 

 he hadn't heard it. I asked him if he knew who they 

 were, " Yes," he replied, " the man is Jim Mason and 

 the woman " Skittles." That was, I think, the first time 

 I ever saw the man, perhaps the finest horseman in 

 England, who had won the first Grand National at 

 Liverpool, on Lottery, in 1839. He used to pilot Mrs. 

 Jack Villiers and " Skittles," on alternative days with 

 Mr. Tailby's hounds, both of them rare horsewomen. 

 Mason died on October gth, 1866, in his fifty-first year, 

 of consumption, and lies in Kensal Green. Skittles is, 

 I believe, still ' on this side,' but I have no intention 

 to write her biography. No record, however, of the 

 Billesdon Hunt, could be complete without some reference 

 to her. One fine day she left the skirt of her habit in a 

 Bullfinch, and was walking about in a white petticoat 

 and Jack Boots. The question arose who should go to 

 her assistance, and the mom.entary difiiculty was to find 

 a 'married man.' "Are you a married man"? was the 

 interrogatory addressed to more than one of those who 

 were present, among others to my esteemed friend Mr. 

 Thorp, the Vicar of Burton Overy, who at that time was re- 

 garded as a comfirmed batchelor. His negative reply was 

 given with an emphasis that caused much merriment, and 

 the story went the round of the hunt for weeks afterwards. 

 In 1862, I was carted off to school at Stonton Wyville 

 Rectory, of which the late Rev. T. Burnaby was in- 

 cumbent, and where I had perhaps the most miserable 

 time of my life. Billy Hay was there at the time, and 



