66 REMINISCENCES OF A HUNTSMAN 



rail, and let it fall at him with all the impetus he could give 

 it. Luckily for Henry Wombwell the rail fell on the croup of 

 his horse, the old one-eyed chestnut, who was a perfect fencer, 

 and who instantly topped the fence and disappeared with his 

 rider on the opposite side. My brother Augustus, who was out 

 on the before-mentioned old horse Sultan, on seeing this assault, 

 jumped from his horse and ran towards the man, who had again 

 assumed the heavy rail. My brother had in his hand a severe 

 jockey whip, with which he used to ride Sultan when he got a 

 mount on him, on account of his sluggishness, the whip not 

 much of a defence against the rail. It was a pretty thing to 

 see the collected and resolute gentleman going up to this 

 "savage man proper," as the heralds would say, who for a 

 moment looked a fire-eating giant; and then, when my brother 

 approached to within a few yards of him, to behold the rail 

 thrown away, and the savage man no longer proper, but in a 

 dastard flight. That I knew would not save him, and finding 

 my brother gaining on him, he threw himself on the ground, in 

 the hope of escaping punishment. At that moment the hounds 

 hit the scent, and the last thing we saw of it was my brother 

 standing over the man, and with the lash of the sharp hand- 

 whip finding out the soft places afforded by the interstices of 

 waistcoat and waistband, and knee button and legging. The 

 fellow had his punishment, and, thanks to the able leaping of 

 his horse, Henry Wombwell escaped without a fall. 



During all this time, notices from the Harrow country kept 

 coming in ; a dinner to the farmers, suggested by Messrs. 

 Norton and Norman of Uxbridge, coursing to all who kept or 

 could borrow greyhounds, and shooting, with presents of game 

 and occasionally venison, could not avert it ; and I saw that the 

 public run was in full force against the public fund my field had 

 raised to defray all damage. 



In the early part of my stag-hunting career, two of the 

 Harrow farmers, who prided themselves on being able to shoot, 

 I take it, presuming on my youth and their little knowledge of 

 my brother Henry, challenged us to a match at pigeons, at the 



