i go THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 



tions gave to his name, he was seldom thrown on his own 

 resources for a dinner ; and on the very day of his arrival 

 was a guest at the Old Club. And there was, in the pro- 

 ceedings of this club, what much took his fancy. There 

 was a quiet, unaffected style in the dinner, although 

 dressed by a good man-cook, as well as in the way in 

 which the evening was passed, which he considered to 

 be quite in character with sportsmen. After a moderate 

 allowance of wine, tea and coffee were announced ; and 

 after an hoiir or two's amusement with cards, each man 

 retired to his couch, to be ready and fresh for the follow- 

 ing day. 



And here the forthcoming day was productive of an 

 event which could have only occurred in this " metropolis 

 of fox-hunting," which Leicestershire is very properly 

 called ; but it was an event which our hero would 

 never have forgotten, had he lived a thousand years. 

 Having fallen asleep after his servant had called him, he 

 found himself almost alone in Melton, that is, amongst the 

 hunting men, all of them, with the exception of two who, 

 as luck would have it, were going to the same hounds 

 as himself, those of the Earl of Lonsdale having started 

 on their road to cover. The names of these individuals 

 he did not know at the time ; but on seeing them pass 

 the windows of his inn, he ordered out his cover-hack, and 

 followed them, at a respectful distance, along the London 

 turnpike-road, which it was highly necessary he should 

 have done, as he did not know his way to the cover, 

 nor was there anyone else to direct him. He had not, 

 however, proceeded more than two miles along this road, 

 before he saw his guides turn, at a right angle, through 

 a bridle-gate, and of course he turned through it also. 

 Three more bridle-gates were passed through at the 

 extremities of fine grass grounds, over which these two 

 crack horsemen, for such they were, went at a rate which 

 rather surprised our young sportsman, conceiving them 

 to be, like himself, riding their cover-hacks. No sooner 

 through the fourth gate, however, than a different line of 

 country presented itself. They left the bridle-road and 

 made for a sheep-pen in a corner, which they passed, and 

 then, leaping into and out of a lane, put their heads about 

 as straight as the crow flies, in the direction of a spire 

 which was in view. Our hero now began to find his 

 mistake nay, more, that he was in a scrape ; for, although 



