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renounce the pleasures of this world, ou persuade himself he shall 

 find still better in the next ; and this must have been the case with 

 Tom Shafto. There cannot be a doubt but on this trying occasion 

 Lord Darlington and his fox-hounds, as well as his friend Ealph 

 Lambton, flitted across his fancy ; for in the agony of the moment 

 he did not exclaim, like the jailor in the Bible, " WJiat shall I do to 

 he saved ? " but, sitting up in his bed, he heaved a deep sigh, and 

 addressed his brother officer in the following words : — " I say, Bob, 

 no more Uckenby whin *!! " Surely this was the ruling passion 

 strong in death ! 



On another occasion, Mr. Thomas Shafto afforded an instance of 

 the prevalence — we might almost call it dominion — of any particular 

 gratification, over thought, word, and deed. He was once present 

 when the oratorical powers of some of our leading Senators became 

 the topic of discourse, and, amongst others, Earl Grey's name was 

 mentioned. " A good speaker," observed Tom ; "but he can't ride 

 over Stanley pastures." At another time, he was asked why he 

 quitted a friend's house when a certain family, just returned from 

 Paris, came to pay him a visit? "I don't like them," said he; 

 " they are half French, lialf English." 



Mr. Thomas Shafto is a single man, and at present resides with 

 his elder brother at Whitworth. He is an excellent judge of a 

 horse ; a good sportsman, and rider ; and, what is more, a very 

 good fellow. To the eye, it must be allowed he has some personal 

 peculiarities — the straight-cut coat ; boots and breeches by no 

 means good ; a little of his friend Sir Tatton's style about him (by 

 no means a bad one !), and he rides a race nearly as well. There 

 is (Dot an atom of humbug about him ; but if there was, I must 

 esteem him for thinking of fox-hunting in his last moments — at 

 least, in what he had reason to believe would be his last. 



On Thursday, 14th of December, I turned my back upon Durham, 

 and went to visit a Shropshire acquaintance, named Flounders, who 

 resides at Yarm, I was, when at his house, within a very easy 

 distance of the far-famed Hurworth hounds, which met the next 

 day at Croft Bridge, on the Great North Eoad, and which bridge 



* A favourite covert in Lord Darlington's Hunt, near Catterick Bridge. 



