THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 



Mr. Somerby, however, liaving overheard the question, orood- 

 naturedly replied to it : — 



' Why, Francis, I am scarcely old enough to have seen Dick 

 Knight in his very best day ; but the prints which you speak 

 of give an excellent idea of the man ; and, from the knowledge 

 the amateur artist, to whose pencil we are indebted for them, 

 had of him, as a huntsman and sportsman, we must give them 

 full credit for accuracy of design and character. Has he not 

 exhibited him displaying all the good properties which his call- 

 ing, as a huntsman to foxhounds, requires ? In the first place, 

 what a horseman does he appear ! How firm and beautiful is 

 his seat in the tremendous leap he is taking, obliged as he is, 

 at the same time, to stoop forward on his horse to avoid the 

 bough of a tree ! Then, what zeal he evinces ! and what 

 coolness, while changing his horse during the run, the oppor- 

 tunity being offered by his passing his own stable door. Instead 

 of being in a hurry to mount, he casts his eyes towards his 

 hounds and the country, before he puts his foot into the stirrup. 

 Then, see him with his hounds at fault, and observe his anxiety 

 for their safety, whilst the colt is gambolling in the midst of 

 them ; and, lastly, mark him at the finish, with the dead fox 

 in his hand. " Who-whoop ! was never so carried," cries he, on 

 dismounting from the fore-horse of the team, whose state of 

 exhaustion is so admirably depicted by the artist, that we could 

 swear that, in one more field, the nag must have died, if the 

 fox had not. In fact, I have always told my friend, Loraine 

 Smith, for he claims the honour of having been the designer, 

 that no hunting prints have ever yet appeared anything like 

 so good as those of which we have been speaking ; neither do I 

 believe there have been many better huntsmen than the cele- 

 brated Dick Knight. 



' Perhaps you will like an anecdote or two, Frank,' resumed 

 Mr. Somerby, ' of this noted man. His master is Earl Spencer, 

 and a fine sportsman his lordship is. On his return from 

 London, last year, at the end of the gay season, almost the 

 first thing Dick said to him, was, that he " feared the country 

 was about to be ruined." Lord Spencer being then high in 

 the administration of it, naturally associated the idea with the 

 general ruin of Great Britain, whereas Dick was only alluding 

 to Northamptonshire as a hunting country. " What now, 

 then, Dick ? " said his lordship. " Why, my lord," he replied, 



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