WARWICKSHIRE 49 



worrying our fox, we proceeded homewards, when, turning the 

 corner of a large quickset hedge, we came suddenly upon Mr. Morant. 

 He was mounted on his famous chesnut horse, a terrible example of 

 disaster and defeat. He had lost his hat, and his face was much 

 scratched and bloody. Poor Splogio's tongue (for that was the name 

 of the No Pretender) was out of his mouth, his head hung down, and 

 he had none of that fiery temper with which he had left his stable 

 in the morning. Although made the subject of much merriment, 

 particularly to Mr. Corbet, Mr. Morant exclaimed, " upon my word, 

 a very pretty run. Where did you kill him ? I wish I could have 

 been with you, but I don't know how it is, my little horse did not 

 like it to-day : perhaps I hurried him too much. It was a very pretty 

 thing." The ardour of the rider was too much for the powers of his 

 horse, and he verified the old saying, that the most haste does not 

 always make the most speed. 



One of the characteristics of fox-hunting is that it begets a 

 contempt of danger ; and no one ever a-ppeared less afraid of breaking 

 his neck than Mr. Morant. Without this enviable qualification, it is 

 useless to think of contending for the honours of the field. In one 

 instance Mr. Morant proved himself almost superior to the influence 

 of fear, or, in more sporting language, a game one. He got a fall one 

 day into a road, and ahghted on his head on a heap of stones. 

 Though alarmingly hurt, and obliged to quit the field, yet, to the 

 surprise of every one, he was at the covert side the next day as if 

 nothing had happened. On his friends asking him how he was, he 

 told them that he had some awkward sensations, to be sure — such 

 as dizziness of sight, shivering, and a feel as if cold water was 

 running down his back (all by the way symptoms of a slight 

 concussion of the brain), and that they wanted to bleed and physic 

 him, but he thought a bottle of claret over night and a good run with 

 hounds in the morning would do him more good, so he was come to 

 try the experiment. Now, although this may be a bad way of 

 providing against the consequences of a bad fall, yet we cannot but 

 admire the manly spirit that prompts a man to adopt it, as it would 

 lead him, if occasion required it, with the same coolness to a double- 

 shotted battery. 



It may not be amiss here to observe, as a hint to hard riders, that 



