NIMROD'S NORTHERN TOUR. 301 



had him in print*. As a sportsman, however, I cannot say too much of 

 him, for he is an out-an-outer in his line, and very much improved since 

 he has been in Scotland, which shows that he benefits by experience, 

 which cannot be said of all men. He is not a neat horseman, but that 

 he cannot help. Fine horsemanship is as much an endowment of 

 nature, as Professor Wilson's brains are, and she has unkindly denied it 

 to Joe, but he still gets well to his hounds. The second whip, at this 

 time Jack Wilson, is a Lindow in the saddle, with one of the best bridle 

 hands I ever saw; but as the man said of his son, whom he had 

 apprenticed to an undertaker, " he takes no delight in his business, '^ 

 and he bolted at the end of the season. He was succeeded, pro tempore, 

 by a well-known hand — a still finer horseman, a still better whipper-in, 

 whose christian name is Philip, 



** Poor Phil no matter who — for wten I blame, 



I pity, and must therefore sink the name," 



and this is all I shall at present say of him, except that being sorely addicted 

 to the merry sin of drunkenness, he could never remain long in any sports- 

 man's service, although he has been in that of some of the best of them, 

 which in part accounts for his talent. Lord Kintore gave him every 

 chance, but though he promised fair at first, the reality dropped short, 

 and he was of course discharged. This man — for he is forty years of 

 age — would be invaluable either with hounds, or as a second-horse rider, 

 could he resist his propensity to drink, which has brought him to the 

 very abyss of wretchedness. Feeling a respect for his accomplishments, 

 I read him a long lecture, but doubtless 1 might have saved my breath. 



* It may not be amiss to repeat tlie anecdote I am alluding to. During my last 

 visit to Mr. Nicoll, and at the end of the last year of his keeping hounds, I said one 

 day to Joe, that I could not think what was come to his master, for he scarcely now 

 ever went into the kennel. Joe was silent, but on my pressing liim for a reason for 

 it, he replied with a sigh (we were with the hounds at the moment), " Well, sir ; I 

 suppose he is a tceaning himself from 'em." 



