THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 193 



first considered him " a promising young one," a compliment 

 paid to him by Mr. Forester, no bad judge. To the ques- 

 tions put to our hero himself, he made the following candid 

 answer : " Why, I was very rightly served. I neglected 

 the observance of what ought to be a standing rule in all 

 situations of life, and in none more than in a sportsman's ; 

 namely, to 'take time by the forelock,' as the proverb has 

 it, and even to allow for the chapter of accidents. The 

 fact was, I was at my breakfast when I ought to have 

 been on my hack, and I paid dearly for my folly by 

 being soused over head and ears in a brook, besides losing, 

 as I understand, a fine day's sport. However, the lesson 

 will not be lost upon me, in having impressed two things 

 upon my mind ; first, to be wider awake on a hunting 

 morning ; secondly, the fact that a pretty good hunter 

 with my father's harriers is a devilish bad cover-hack in 

 Leicestershire." 



The next day being Sunday, Frank Raby, after being in 

 church, for Melton men go to church, and hearing an 

 excellent discourse from Doctor Ford, on the empty 

 vanity of all human pursuits, was conducted by his friend 

 Somerby through several of the stables belonging to the 

 principal Melton men, which was to him a great treat. 

 The impression made upon him by this inspection was 

 conveyed to his friend, Sir John Inkleton, in a letter, of 

 which the following is a copy : 



"MELTON, February 3, 1802. 



" DEAR INKLETON, I promised to let you know how 

 I get on in Leicestershire. I made a bad start on Friday 

 with the Quorn ; attempted to go the pace with the 

 leading men, and brought Gentleman to a standstill. I 

 think his place is ' the provincials,' as the top-sawyers here 

 call all countries but their own. However, I was much 

 pleased with their beautiful riding, and went as long as I 

 could. But, to use the vulgar phrase, I must either eat 

 more pudding, that is, become older, or buy better 

 horses, before I shall be able to go their pace, for it is 

 nearly the Bibury Welter pace. And yet I have no 

 reason to be displeased with my first day in Leicestershire. 

 Somerby introduced me to several of the dons, and, above 

 all, to Mr. Meynell, who equals all I have heard of him 

 in his manners and appearance. Lord Sefton does the 

 whole thing in first-rate style ; his huntsman, Raven (I 



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