SIR RICHARD PULESTON 227 



heavy; his voice is cracked — but, like Falstaff, not loith singing 

 anthems — and his day is gone by ; and his second vphipper-in is too 

 young to be of much assistance to him, but that is a fault which 

 may mend itself. He is well bred, being got by Old Ned out of a 

 neighbouring dairy-maid — by no means a bad cross for hounds. 



Sir Richard Puleston's country comprises part of Shropshire, 

 Denbighshire, and Flintshire — his house being situated in the latter 

 county. Were it not for the River Dee, which meanders through 

 the best part of the grazing district, it would be a very pretty one 

 indeed. The fences are easy, the coverts not generally large ; and 

 he shewed me a list of no less than eighteen new gorse coverts 

 which his friends have made for him ; but he has at present no 

 subscription to his hounds. 



Sir Richard Puleston is not only a highly-bred English gentleman, 

 unsophisticated by foreign fopperies ; but he is — what is of still more 

 value — a sincere friend. As a companion Sir Richard possesses 

 talent of the first order, and in colloquial wit is seldom excelled. A 

 few of his hons mots are too good to be lost. He was once asked 

 what he thought of the Law and the Prophets ? " Why," answered 

 Sir Richard, "I think the Law pockets the Prophets {profits) most 

 damnably." — Some years ago, when Mendoza the boxer was in his 

 glory, Sir Richard was one of a party where the bottle had circulated 

 rather freely, and two Welch Squires were nodding in their chairs, 

 with their heads so close that there was some danger of their 

 coming into contact. " Remove those gentlemen's chairs a little," 

 said one of their friends, " or they will fight in their sleep." — " That 

 toould be Men-dozing," exclaimed the Baronet. — A brother sportsman 

 once asked him (alluding to the form of a horse) what he thought of 

 a holloiv bach? "I like a hollow (halloo) fonuard better," replied 

 he.— Another brother sportsman, a master of fox-hounds, once told 

 him he heard his harriers had" been running one of bis foxes. 

 "Well," said Sir Richard, "you run my game, and why should not 

 I run yours? " — A gentleman in his neighbourhood, whom he knew 

 to be fond of his money, told him he must go to town in the spring, 

 for a polish. "Go to Birmingham," said Sir Richard; "they ivill 

 do it cheaper for you there." — When speaking of a certain Lady who 

 was in the habit of turning up her eyes towards Heaven one 



