THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 



infernally deep, and there was no getting a nick by a turn, as 

 the fox went straiglit on end. There were not more than eight 

 or ten of the field very near to the hounds, and no one exactly 

 on their line. In fact, I saw plainly how things were going. 

 Puggy was facing the cream of the country, and I said to 

 myself, " We are in for a tickler." 



' I began to be sorry, however, that I was riding my five- 

 year-old ; indeed, I meant to have had him as my second 

 horse, and I must say my groom advised me to do so. How- 

 ever, there was nothing to be done, now, but to let him go ; 

 and as I only gave two hundred for him, at Newmarket, I 

 thought I might try what he was made of at once. You know, 

 Mr. Raby, it's no use keeping horses at Melton merely to look 

 at; consequently, if they are good for nothing, we send them 

 at once to the hammer. We let them try their luck in the 

 'provincials, when they cannot live over the grass. 



' The next fence was a bullfinch, as black as ' — (Here Mr. 

 Somerby was interrupted by Frank asking his father what 

 was meant by a ' bullfinch fence ' ; but his father was unable 

 to answer the question) — ' The next fence,' resumed Mr. 

 Somerby, ' was a bullfinch fence, as black and as dark as the 

 shades below : you could not, indeed, have seen through it 

 with a lantern. Then as to what there might be on the other 

 side. Heaven knew, but I did not. I only guessed there was 

 a yawning ditch, and very likely a stiff rail to boot. But 

 what was to be done ? The hounds were going the top of 

 the pace — no time to turn to the right or to the left ; two 

 fellows nearer to them than I was (didn't like that, you know, 

 Francis, eh ?) and Cecil Forester, close behind me, roaring out, 

 " Go along, sir, for God's sake ! " — so at it I went. It was a 

 rasper (" a rasper ! " exclaimed Frank, but only in hearing of 

 his father), surely, and I cannot say I was sorry when I found 

 myself well landed in the next field. Our party was now 

 becoming select. There were only five of us right well with 

 the hounds ; and although many were near, some were already 

 beaten, and some nowhere. But, to be sure, the pace was 

 awful. " Sharper than common, this morning," cried George 

 Germaine to me, and he seldom sings out, as you know, on 

 that score ; " how does the young one like it ? " Indeed, he 

 has been heard to say, during the Bibury meeting, that a race- 

 horse never yet went fast enough to please him ; and that, 



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