THE WOTTON BUCK 273 



divine image every look of wisdom, while the tongue twiddles 

 with a little hole for the lips to whistle through, the eyes on 

 each occasion, as well as the hue of the cheeks and size of the 

 temporal arteries, indicating a near approach to apoplexy. My 

 friend Lord Arundell is a very fine musician, playing beautifully 

 on several instruments, and frequently travels by train with his 

 cornopean. If he is in a carriage by himself he asks no leave, 

 but blows away, but if there are other people in it, he puts to 

 them an awful question, which no man dares to himself to 

 answer in the negative : " Do you like music ? " Every man is 

 sure to say " Yes," when out comes the instrument, similar in its 

 unsparing tenacity to Facey's flute, which moved " Me Oncle 

 Gilroy " to tears, and " Soapy Sponge " to playing at cards, and 

 the passengers are plied to such an extent, that they have for 

 ever after an antipathy to anything like a wind-instrument. I 

 saw the train at the Spetchley station in Worcestershire deliver 

 upon the platform Lord ArundelPs travelling companions, none 

 of whom had ever seen him before. They came forth delirious 

 ghosts, getting out they knew not where, and asking incoherent 

 questions for quiet inns, while Arundell looked out after them, 

 laughing, and winking at me as much as to say, " I've given 

 them enough of it." 



To return to the more legitimate theme of my Reminiscences, 

 Mr. Boultbee was with me, when in July 1853 Druid found a 

 buck in Wotton enclosure. Now, as to this buck, I must tell a 

 curious circumstance, for I am sure he was the same that I had 

 found in the winter : the fact at first looked as if it went far to 

 prove that fays, wood demons, or fairies still occasionally used 

 their magic wands. Orders were given that none of us were 

 to kill any male deer, which would sell the next summer as 

 warrantable venison. Therefore, according to the strict in- 

 tention of this command, fawns, does, prickets, sorels, and sors 

 were alone free to be hunted. The heads of old bucks, with 

 their antlers on, are ever marketable things, and belong to the 

 keepers ; and I am perfectly convinced that in some places the 

 orders of the Commission were not obeyed, and that, simply 



