LIFE OF MVTTON. 107 



sold for somewhere about the value of their skins ; 

 nor was this to be wondered at, when we remember 

 the tricks that had been played with them. 



I could never discover whether or not Mr. Mytton 

 was, at heart, a sportsman — that is to say, whether 

 or not he enjoyed seeing his hounds at work, beyond 

 the mere pleasure any Master might feel at the finish 

 of a good run ; when, although he himself had little 

 enough of that infirmity in his composition, his vanity 

 might be flattered. I never heard him cheer an indi- 

 vidual hound when drawing or in chase ; nor, with 

 the exception of Hudibras, had he any favourite 

 hound, as most Masters have ; neither did he know 

 the names of all the hounds in his kennel. This last 

 assertion, however, requires some qualification. He 

 would tell his friends he did not know their names, 

 but whether such was really the case I cannot take 

 upon myself to say, knowing his disposition on trifling 

 matters to disguise his real sentiments. 



As a horseman I need say little of Mr. Mytton, 

 his merits having been proclaimed in every county in 

 which he had hunted. In fact, taking him at every- 

 thing, he had not many equals, and very few superiors 

 in the saddle, for he could ride over a course as 

 well as over a country. His prodigious strength was 



