THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 67 



Hill. 'Well, William,' said I, 'how milch of the five- 

 pound note is left ? ' ' The five-pound note ! ' he replied ; 

 ' why not a rap : it all went the same day ; part to pay 

 off a score for filberts and sherry ; and the rest to Jem 

 Stevens, for hack horses and tandems.' Then, how much 

 do you think one of these chaps owed for gloves ? Why, 

 three pounds sixteen shillings ! But, now I think of it, 

 and I never mention Salt Hill that I don't think of it, I 

 can tell you a better story than either of these, to show 

 how little your Eton blades think of money. I had these 

 same hopeful nephews of mine (by the way, you know 

 they have turned out very well, both perfect gentlemen) 

 to dine with me, on a whole holiday, at Salt Hill, and was 

 soft enough to tell them to bring half a dozen of their 

 friends with them. Well, of course, they did so ; and a 

 fine lot of youths they were ; very highly bred, I believe, 

 all, and the son of a duke amongst them. I gave them a 

 good dinner, but was diverted by an incident in the 

 middle of it. ' Hand round the champagne,' said I to 



the waiter ; but Lord S put his hand on the top of his 



glass, and said, ' No champagne for me ; / am a sherry 

 man.' Pretty well, thought I, for a lad of fourteen. 

 However, they all delighted me by their behaviour, which 

 was correct in every respect ; but when about to rise from 

 the table to return to Eton, I found that I had not done 

 with them yet. ' You must pouch these fellows, uncle,' 

 whispered William. ' Pouch them,' said I ; ' what do you 

 mean by pouching them ? ' ' Tipping them,' was "his 

 reply. ' They will consider themselves insulted if you do 

 not.' ' Ah ! ' resumed I, ' now I comprehend you ; and 

 what must I give them ? ' ' Oh ! ' replied James, my 

 younger nephew, 'a guinea apiece mil do.' Here, then, 

 was a good day's work ; for what with the bill at the inn, 

 and the poiichiwj, I had not much left out of a twenty- 

 pound note." 



" A true bill, no doubt, Freemantle," said Mr. Raby ; 

 " Eton, I find, is about the same as it was in my time ; 

 and your mention of Stevens, whose miserable hacks we 

 used to ride, often at the expense of a flogging, reminds me 

 of an anecdote of his hopeful son, Jem. When Wentworth 

 left Eton, he was so enamoured of this aspiring blade, that 

 he hired him as his personal servant ; but he returned to 

 his old quarters, at the expiration of three months ; when 

 he thus accounted for himself, as we magistrates say on the 



