THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 43 



said, after one of Eclipse's races 'nowhere.' 'Where 

 have you been ? ' said one. ' Where I deserved to have 

 been,' was my reply. ' Are you hurt ? ' ' No.' But niy 

 horse ! what state was he in 1 Why, I will tell you. The 

 hard road had greatly recovered him and he leaped a 

 widish place out of the lane, when the hounds crossed 

 under his nose, as well as he could have leaped it in the 

 morning. ' He's heart of oak,' said I ; and I sent him at a 

 flight of rails nearly as high as his back, which he cleared 

 with apparent ease. In short, he appeared to be the 

 freshest horse in the field ; but he had had his puff, whilst 

 the others were going over the Newton hills (remember, 

 he was only a five-year-old). Distress was apparent in 

 all ; even Bernado began to refuse, which he never does 

 till he is beat (Forester swears he never was but twice); 

 and Meynell's grey looked very much like compounding. 

 Germaine got fast into a sheep-pen ; for although Melon 

 jumped into it, he would not jump out ; in short, the 

 jump had left him, and we never saw him again. ' Where's 

 the best place ? ' cried Cholmondeley, who could not face 

 some timber, and was looking for a creep through a 

 bulfinch ; he found it not, and we saw no more of him. 

 ' How shall we get over the brook 1 ' holloaed Lockley, 

 who would have jumped one twice as wide in the morning, 

 and thought nothing about it. ' Go quick at it,' said I ; 

 and Brilliant went a yard beyond it. ' Well done the 

 five-year-old ! ' holloaed Martin Hawke, who was the 

 next moment over head and ears in the water ; his horse 

 never rose at it at all. 



" There were now only five of us with the hounds, and 

 it began to be labour and sorrow with us all. As for 

 Brilliant, it was all over with him. The flash in the 

 pan had exploded perhaps had been extinguished by the 

 brook. Nevertheless, I am ashamed to say, I persevered 

 with him, but I could scarcely lift him along ; he 

 dragged his hind legs through the fences, and I could not 

 make him rise. He was, in fact, twice down on his head 

 in the space of a mile and a half, though we did not part 

 company. In addition to this, with the finest mouth in 

 the world, he leaned half his weight on my hand, and the 

 hounds were leaving me apace. ' I'll try him once more/ 

 said I to myself; so got him on a smooth headland (for 

 ridge and furrow were destroying him), and sent him at 

 a stile at the end of it. For the first time in his life he 



