74 Recollectio7is of the Vine Hunt, 



butter, and sometimes a small sausage roll, with a cup 

 of green tea, was the breakfast on which he usually set 

 forth on his long day's work, but the little which he 

 took must be of the very best quality. He had more 

 than a woman's delicacy of taste, and was even fanci- 

 ful in his eating and drinking. He would send away 

 his plate in disgust, if he was told that the rabbit 

 which he was eating was a homebred and not a wild 

 one. He disliked the idea of bread and butter spread 

 by a man ; the rule at the Vine was that this operation 

 should be performed by one of the maid servants. His 

 few glasses of wine must be of the best old port. For 

 claret he had a great contempt, and I have heard him 

 declare that his butler, old Bush, could make as good 

 stuff as that out of the washings of his port wine 

 glasses. 



I must try to give some idea of Mr. Chute's peculiar 

 vein of humour, his readiness in repartee, and his 

 oddities ; and I know no other way of doing this than 

 by giving a few instances. Each one perhaps singly 

 may seem to be trivial, and scarce worth record- 

 ing ; but it is only by many minute touches that a 

 likeness can be produced, either by the pen or the 

 pencil. 



Sir John Cope, who professed Radical politics, once 

 wrote to Mr. Chute, that he had a litter of five dogs 

 in that year's entry, whose names all had pretty much 

 the same meaning, for they were Placeman, Parson, 

 Pensioner, Pilferer, and Plunderer. But the Tory 

 Squire, with ready invention, retorted that he would 

 show him a litter of which the five names were equally 

 synonymous, being Radical, Rebel, Regicide, Ruffian, 

 and Rascal. 



