The Hunt Dinner 3^3 



At the end of this poem the Master rises again. *' Gen- 

 tlemen," he says, ** we have with us to-night our old friend 

 the Doctor, who takes his hunting in a carriage, but, for all 

 that, usually sees as much of the game or more than the 

 riders themselves. 



To the poor he advice gives away ; 

 For the rich he prescribes and takes pay. 

 But to each one he 's said, 

 * You will surely be dead 

 If you don't go a-hunting to-day ! ' 



We saw him out to-day with a new entry whom he was 

 introducing to hounds." 



The Doctor is a very popular attache of our hunt, as the 

 reader may have surmised who followed him through the 

 chapter on " Driving to Hounds." It is therefore amid a 

 great tumult of applause and clinking of glasses that he 

 stands up to reply. His full rounded form and face are so 

 full of good humour that one of his friends declares the 

 sight of him does his patients more good than all the pills 

 and herbs of his medicinal stores. 



He pauses a moment for the applause to subside, then 

 drops his head to survey the company over the top of his 

 eye-glasses, while the crow's-feet begin to pucker at the 

 corners of his eyes and his mouth begins to draw. His 

 friends break out again in anticipated relish of what they 

 feel sure is to come. After a few complimentary remarks 

 befitting the celebration, and a sly allusion to Mrs. So-and- 

 So's drive to the Maple Grove covert, — the occasion of 

 another wild demonstration from the members and blushes 



