PARTRIDGE SHOOTING. 181 



We once knew a valuable pointer belonging to 

 a friend, to open the door of the chamber in 

 which he was lodged with his master, and wan- 

 dering into the entry, pitch over a part of the 

 staircase unguarded by bannisters, and lay him- 

 self up for the season. Moreover, introducing 

 dogs into the sleeping apartments of their mas- 

 ters learns them indolent habits. What will the 

 reader think of a sportsman's suddenly missing 

 his dog at the last moment, with the steamboat 

 in sight from the pier a dozen unpleasant sus- 

 picions crowding on his mind the bar-tender, 

 boots and the ostler all actively engaged on the 

 scout, and when the rascal turned up at the 

 eleventh hour, he was actually discovered by the 

 chambermaid, lovingly locked in the arms of 

 Somnus in a lodger's bed. Truly, luxury which 

 ruined the Roman empire, would soon make 

 Sybarites of Ponto and Dash, as it has of their 

 cousins, the King Charles and the Blenheim. 

 Clean rye straw in a warm stall is good enough 

 for the villains, in the frostiest night that ever 

 made Dapple cough as she chewed the cud, or 

 honest Dobbin kick at the stable door. They 

 will come out of it in the morning top side up, 

 with shining noses and sinews new strung for a 

 a hard day's hunt. 

 12 * 



