HUNTING SEASON. 193 



" Ah, G , how are you ? " To another, 



" Alfred, my dear boy, how do you do ? " 



To such kind inquiries answers were re- 

 turned that implied pleasure rather than 

 anger at the recognition, or at the fellow's 

 display of fraternity; for generally all dis- 

 tinctions were drowned in a glass of sherry, 

 or some more choice beverage, proffered 

 by my friend the Squire, with a hearty 

 laugh at Jerry's nonchalance. 



In the hunting-season I was now and 

 then sent for I will not say invited to 

 the hospitable mansion of the father ; and 

 was always sure of a mount, when the 

 dream of former days would come back on 

 me with vivid recollection. On one occa- 

 sion I was to stop a week, as there were to 

 be some grand festivities. Accordingly, 

 finding a deputy, in which I had no diffi- 

 culty, I went down on the Monday, and a 

 young farmer, whom I knew, took me to 

 his house in the same village, where I 

 slept. In the morning the carriage, with 



VOL. in. o 



