THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 



packs lying in what may be called very unfavourable ground 

 for hounds, was his chief motive for visiting them, forasmuch 

 as it is in the overcoming of difficulties that talent most 

 strikingly displays itself. He witnessed much science in all 

 that related to the Hertfordshire, their huntsman being a first- 

 rate performer, assisted by as clever a whipper-in as ever rated 

 a hound ; and in the ' Hampshire ' pack, from Alpha to Omega, 

 all appeared to him to be perfect. In fact, he found, as a 

 friend of his told him he would find, a propriety attending that 

 establishment, as well as correctness of conduct in everything 

 relating to it, which are highly gratifying to a sportsman's eye, 

 and which cannot be too closely imitated. The civility and 

 respectful behaviour of the servants were beyond all praise ; 

 and whether by command of their master, or from their own 

 sense of propriety, it was not in his power to determine, but 

 an oath, or a coarse expression of any sort, was never heard 

 to escape them under the most trying circumstances that 

 occurred. It showed that fox-hunting was about to be purged 

 of the only stain that was then attached to it, namely, being 

 the scene of wanton disregard of the usual decorum of society. 

 Of the Vine hounds he thus wrote to his intimate friend and 

 brother sportsman, Hargrave : 



' I am now hunting with a pack called the Vine, so called 

 because such is the name of their owner's house, he representing 

 the county in Parliament. He has the appearance of anything 

 rather than a master of foxhounds, streaming across the country 

 with a long pig-tail down his back, but he is very popular with 

 all descriptions of persons. But it is of his hounds that I 

 wish to speak. They are very small — the smallest I ever saw 

 — but very neat, very fast, very quick in their turns, and very 

 stout. I shall have an eye to some of their blood, one day 

 or another. They have a bad, light-scenting country to hunt 

 over, wliich puts their goodness to the test. 



' You often hear me speak of my weight, and grumble about 

 it. I shall do so no more, because I see that men, four stone 

 heavier than I am, can go well up to hounds. When I was 

 in the Hertfordshire country, I saw this proved in the person 

 of one of the most extraordinary men, perhaps, England ever 

 produced. His name is Richard Gurney — commonly called 

 Dick Gurney — and, although riding eighteen stone, he goes 

 the best pace. In fact, a short time since, I went to see a 



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