194 NIMROD'S HUNTING TOUR 



Tuesday the 10th. — Sir BeUingham and myself went to Halston 

 to spend the day with Mr. Mytton. After luncheon we turned out 

 into the preserves, where the pheasants were as thick as sparrows at 

 a barn door, and the hares running about like rabbits. The team 

 consisted (not of highly-broke pointers, but) of four keepers and 

 three stable boys, who kept singing out, as the pheasants got up, 

 " Cock — hen — cock — hen — cock — hen." Pheasants and hares in 

 abundance were of course slaughtered on this afternoon, but don't 

 let us call this s])orting. 



Our party at Halston consisted of Sir Edward Smythe, Mr. 

 WilHams (son of the General), Sir Bellingham, and myself, and as 

 three of the five were old masters of fox-hounds, our evening was 

 rather a larking one. After a hot supper (obsolete almost every- 

 where but at Halston), we took a walk — not into the groves of 

 Academus, but into the ale and wine cellars, wdth a cigar in our 

 cheek just to keep out the cold. In the first, we saw hogsheads of 

 ale =i= standing like soldiers in close column ; and in the other, in 

 bottle and in wood, wine enough for a Eoman Emperor. 



On the following morning just as we were sitting down to break- 

 fast, Mr. Mytton requested me to accompany him to the stables to 

 see his Oaks filly. His dress at the time (which, considering the 

 thermometer was four degrees below freezing, with snow on the 

 ground, was rather airy than otherwise) consisted of his shirt, 

 slippers, and dressing-gown. We walked to the stable in which the 

 filly was, when Mr. Mytton approached her, and after jumping on 

 her back, and playing two or three other harlequin tricks, he laid 

 himself down at full length under her belly, with his naked head 

 towards her heels — playing wdth her tail, tickling her about the legs, 

 &c. " I cannot stand this," said I, and bolted out of the stable, 

 though earnestly entreated by my friend to stop, as he had not half 

 done. 



After breakfast, we all adjourned to the stables, and looked over 

 the hunting and racing studs. The latter consisted of twenty-two. 

 Longwaist was looking quite fresh and well ; but I saved my breath 



* Mr. Mytton makes his own malt, and the words, "John Mytton, licensed 

 malster," are painted in large letters over his malt-house door. How fortunate 

 it is that there is no license required to drink ! 



