KEMINISCENCES OF A HUNTSMAN. 65 



the field, and put Radical to his speed to bear his 

 master scatheless. The very instant that Tollemache 

 found that he was a little (though safely) ahead of his 

 pursuers, he restrained Radical sufficiently to let him 

 fire a volley of angry words. The last thing the 

 farmer said was somethino- re2;ardin<2: the dama2;e 

 Tollemache was doing, calling to him at the same 

 time to stop. " Damage ! " shouted Tollemache, " stop! 

 you be d — d ! who'd stop, d'ye think, on such a boggy 

 place as this ? Damage ! you can't hurt a swamp : 

 grass ! there's none. Get your drain-plough, open 

 your ditches, spud the weeds, choke the wireworms, 

 hang the moles, sow clover and be d — d to you ! 

 Rot a sheep indeed ! you'd starve a spider." And 

 away Radical flew, throwing the clay behind him 

 into the face of the bewildered enemy. 



The horse of a young farmer named Passingham, 

 who lived at Heston, was one day knocked down by 

 a labourer with a dung-fork, just as the chestnut 

 mare landed over a fence in the Harrow Vale. 

 Speaking of young Passingham — both he and his 

 father are dead — I saw the followinfj occurrence, in a 

 narrow bridle- way, in the midst of his father's farm. 

 We had entered about twenty yards into the bridle- 

 way, from a place called Tentlow Lane, when Pas- 

 singham discovered his father at the other end, 

 coming on foot to meet us. The instant he saw him 

 he stuck the spurs into his mare, and shrieking all 

 manner of cries, rode right at the old man, who, 

 seeino; a horse almost on him, had nothins; left for 

 it but to tumble into the ditch, by which alone 

 he could escape being ridden over. His son passed 

 him in terrific guise, and on reaching the other 

 end of the bridle-way, was round the corner and 



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