92 FOX-HUNTING RECOLLECTIONS 



who had been very attentive to me during 

 my sciatica troubles. He had been at one 

 time in the Swedish Artillery, and I found he 

 could ride pretty well, though naturally he 

 was not accustomed to going out hunting. I 

 mounted him on a white horse of mine called 

 the Ghost, a very safe conveyance. The first 

 day the meet was a long way off and he was 

 not in the best of condition, but his enthusiasm 

 was enormous and he enjoyed himself immensely. 

 At the end of a long hard day w^e found ourselves 

 about fifteen miles from home with a dreary 

 ride over the hills before us. I noticed my friend 

 apparently rather exhausted, and as we started 

 on our homeward journey he cried out to me, 

 '' Oh, if I only knew where to get a glass of Swedish 

 Punch ! *' To his dismay I had to break it 

 to him that Swedish Punch was a beverage 

 unknown to the English people, and that no 

 public-house lay within many miles of our 

 homeward route. Our progress was slow, and 

 the only way by which I could get him along 

 at all was the oft-repeated promise that, if we 

 ever did fetch home, he should quench his thirst 

 to his hearths content. Our goal was at last 

 reached, but never in my life did I see a couple 

 so completely done as the *' Ghost '' and the 

 " Swede." 



