WOLLASTON GORSE 111 



on their boots and breeches. The hunting day over, he would 

 assume his usual quietude till the next appointment. There, in 

 the asylum I left the poor fellow for months. They let him out 

 into the garden during this time, finding him better, when he 

 broke away over the country, chased by all the attendants, who 

 had some difficulty in a recapture. Time sped on, and the next 

 year, while drawing the chase, up trotted to my side the late 

 inmate of the asylum, rather thinner but as yeomanly as ever. 

 His greeting to me was peculiar from a singular expression of 

 delight in seeing me, coupled with some sense of great obligation 

 which he seemed to think himself under. I talked to him kindly, 

 and continued to draw for a fox, my ears laid back in expecta- 

 tion of the old holloa. No false holloa from him was ever again 

 heard, and during that day, in approaching a gate, the yeoman 

 was ever at hand to open it, dismounting sometimes when his 

 horse was fidgety, to stand with it in his hand. Once or twice 

 I had begged him not thus to trouble himself; but on hearing 

 him say, as if to himself, " It would indeed be odd if I did not 

 watch every opportunity to serve you," I asked him " Why ? " 

 He replied, with tears in his eyes, " Can I ever thank you suffi- 

 ciently for the kind visit you paid me when they shut me up ? 

 I never should have got out again but for you, but should have 

 been there now." I said, "Oh no, you would have recovered 

 without me ; " he shook his head, and from that day to this I 

 have never seen him. It seemed that in the state of his mind, 

 when we met at the asylum, he had imbibed an impression 

 that my visit was exclusively to him, and as from that moment 

 he gradually recovered his reason, that impression became con- 

 firmed. 



There was a very nice gorse cover at Wollaston, which was 

 supposed to be under the care of Mr. Dickens, then the reverend 

 pastor of that Ilk, though but once did I ever find a fox in it. 

 Whenever I saw Mr. Dickens, I used to say, " Well, what have 

 you got in your gorse ? " and the reply invariably was, " There 

 may be a rabbit ; but the only thing certain in it is a poaching 

 shoemaker." Shoemaking is a great trade in that vicinity. How- 



