266 NIMROD'S HUNTING TOUR 



too, in this land of liberty. Killing foxes, and thereby destroying 

 the sport of a number of gentlemen, who incur great expenses with 

 the expectation of enjoying it, is unworthy of any man aspiring to 

 the character of an English gentleman. 



I must not let John Burrell depart just yet. He has long afforded 

 much amusement by that bluntness of expression for which, even 

 in the presence of superiors, the old English character has ever been 

 conspicuous, and I must give my readers one more specimen. 



Lord Darlington's dog-language is particularly good. I think he 

 finds his fox in a very superior manner, and some of his cheering 

 halloos quite thrill the soul. In chase, however, he is a little lavish 

 of the word Fonvard I which once called forth the criticism of his 

 old friend John Burrell. The hounds were one day running very 

 hard, and, it may be, a little too fast for the hoises, his Lordship's 

 among the rest. Honest John happened to be close to his Lordship, 

 who was trying to catch them — at the same time singing out, 

 " Forward, forward, forward! " — " What in the name of God! my 

 Lord," exclaimed John, "are you hallooing fonvard for now 

 surely arn't the dogs ganging a mile before us already? " 



On another occasion Lord Darlington made a cast which did not 

 please John. Sure enough the fox had not gone that road ; and 

 when, after the failure, his Lordship trotted back with his hounds to 

 the line, John Burrell exclaimed, " That cast, my Lord, Yia,^ perfectly 

 ridicidous." Lord Darlington smiled; but to the honour of fox- 

 hunting be it said, that, had not John Burrell been a sportsman, 

 the joke might not have gone down quite so well, as we must 

 confess the language, though forcible, was homely. 



Saturday, Dec. 9th. — The fixture was Bradbury Bridge, about 

 half way between Sedgefield and Eushyford. "We had no sport 

 worth speaking of, which I regretted for more reasons than one. A 

 very promising young sportsman, and an elegant horseman, had 

 travelled night and day from Brasenose College, Oxford, to get in time 

 for this fixture. This was Mr. John Shafto, second son of Mr. 

 Duncombe Shafto, of Whitworth.. He is one of the steadiest young 

 ones I ever met with ; and I pronounce him, even at this time, what 

 an Irishman would term, an illigant rider to hounds. 



Monday, 11th. — Met Mr. Lambton's hounds at Grimdon. Found 



