YORKSHIRE 265 



domain of Mr. Burden, of Castle Eden, who many years represented 

 the county. The scenery is beautiful, but too romantic for fox- 

 hunting. 



I was much pleased by the sight of John Burrell in the field this 

 morning. His riding days are over, as indeed are those of most 

 other men at his advanced age ; but he still likes the smack of the 

 whip. I was happy in having an opportunity of conversing with 

 him, and, as far as my recollection goes, the following is about the 

 substance of our this day's discourse. 



Nimrod. — This is a clever pack of hounds, Mr. Burrell. 

 John Burrell. — You never saw such a pack before, and no doubt 

 but you have seen a muckle. 



Nimrod. — I have seen another fine pack which you know — Lord 

 Darlington's. 



John B. — Oh, he's a fine sportsman ! and when he's at Eaby I 

 often gang to see him. I am very fond of his Lordship, and his 

 Lordship is very fond of me. And my Lady ! eh, what a horse- 

 woman she is ! but she don't gang so well as she did : I reckon her 

 Ladyship gets a bit jolly. 



Nimrod. — You have a fine country here, Mr. Burrell. 

 John B. — Aye ! the country's well enough ; but the parsons suck 

 all the goodness out of it. It all goes to Durham. 



Nimrod. — But, Mr. Burrell, I am sorry to find the Marquis of 

 Londonderry kills your foxes. I fear he will hurt your country 

 worse than the parsons. 



John B.^ — Indeed I am very angry with his Lordship, and I told 

 my Lady so the other day. She can't bear the cry of dogs, she says. 

 Oh fie ! her father was as good a sportsman as ever followed a 

 hound. What ! Sir Harry Vane Tempest's daughter not bear the 

 cry of dogs ! Oh fie ! But this comes of all your fine London work. 

 It didn't use to be so. I am very angry at them : I don't think I 

 shall ever gang to dine at Wynyard Park again. The last time I 

 was there, they put me into a room that smoked like a lime-kiln ; 

 but I should not have minded that if they didn't kill the foxes. 



Style, we are told, is the image of the mind ; and here we see it 

 displayed with the freedom and independence of an English yeoman, 

 who, I hope, will never be afraid to speak his sentiments, and boldly 



