THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 



clone well. As for Shaw, the huntsman, you will be delighted 

 with him. To use a common phrase, he is as quick as 

 lightning in all his motions — a little too quick, some of the 

 knowino- ones say ; and I like to watch his countenance, when 

 his hounds are at a ticklish point. He has a peculiar expression 

 of the eye, which shows how his heart and soul are absorbed in 

 the sport. 



' We had a tine run yesterday, from a cover called Graven- 

 hill, which, being within such easy reach of Oxford, produced 

 a good show of tyros, as you and I may now call those of the 

 cap and gown who have a taste for hunting. The fox crossed 

 the brook at starting, and several of them got into it, as 

 usually is the case, for you know it is a teazer. I followed 

 Peyton, and got well over on Achilles, who, you know, is capital 

 at water. I stuck to him throughout the whole run, and 

 towards the end of it the following epigraTYiinatic sentences 

 were pleasantly exchanged between us : — " More willow-trees, 

 Sir Henry," said I ; " another brook, I suppose ? " " Go along," 

 replied this line horseman, " and don't stop to look at it." We 

 both got well over, and had the best of it to the end of a tine 

 run, and over a fine country. But, talking of brooks, there is 

 a proper teazer in the Banbury country, — no less than the 

 Charwell, which, as you know, is navigable far above Oxford. 

 It gets less and less as you approach Northamptonshire, and is 

 jumpahle in places in the Chipping Warden country. I tried it 

 the other day, on the General, but, although he landed me, he 

 fell back, and had a narrow escape from drowning. " The 

 Charwell was never leaped," said Griff Lloyd to me. " Pardon 

 me," said I, " it has been leaped this day, and I will ride at it 

 again, if it comes in my way." Let me know what you have 

 been doing in your country. Those Roodings foxes are, I 

 believe, proverbially stout, and I am informed there is no better 

 sportsman than Mr. Charles Newman, the master of the hounds 

 with which you hunt. One day or another I hope I may 

 see him. 



' I have given up Melton for this year — indeed, until finances 

 increase. Racing, also, I have promised my uncle to think no 

 more about — for the present at least ; so the hunters, the gun, 

 and the tishing-ro<l, must furnish the out-a-door amusement; 

 the cook, the butler, and the young ladies, with a peep, now 

 and then, into the classics (for I will not give them up), the 



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