276 HUNTING. 



is no reason why you should not enjoy your gallop (at least 

 take your chance of a gallop) with the Old Berkshire, the South 

 Berkshire, the Bicester, the Heythrop, the Duke of Grafton's, 

 and Mr. Selby-Lowndes's, nay, no reason why you should 

 not penetrate into the very Shires themselves. By leaving 

 King's Cross at 7.45 you can reach Grantham at 10.35, and 

 a train from the same station starting half an hour earher 

 will land you at Melton at 10.32. Leaving Euston at 7.30 

 you reach Rugby at 9.34; leaving St. Pancras at 8.10, you 

 reach Market Harboro' at 10.44. In short, if you do not 

 mind, as we have said, taking your pleasure somewhat labo- 

 riously, you may get plenty of hunting, and plenty of good 

 hunting, without ever passing a winter's night away from your 

 London home. But, certainly, if not sorrow, it is labour. It 

 is not only the early rising ; though that alone, on a dark winter's 

 morning when the water is of dubious warmth, and the fire 

 probably will do nothing but smoke, in sullen protest against its 

 unseasonable lighting, does indeed entail something of a struggle 

 on this poor frail human flesh. To dress by candlelight is never 

 an enlivening process, and when the dress is such as men go a- 

 hunting in, it is often little short of misery. To button those 

 knee-buttons, and tie those natty little bows below them, by 

 the uncertain light of a candle, and with blue fingers senseless 

 with cold — ah ! my friend, nate meciun Consule Manlio — must 

 one not be very fond of the game, indeed, to bear these matu- 

 tinal ills without repining more than once? But these are, 

 after all, mere sensual sorrows. The man who would grudge 

 to give his morning sleep for a gallop over the grass is unworthy 

 the name of a sportsman and a Briton ! But these desperate 

 hours signify long marches into the bowels of the land ; they 

 signify long journeys by train, and they in their turn signify 

 much disbursement of moneys, and much wear and tear of flesh, 

 both human and equine. Nothing sooner tires a man, body 

 and brain, than long and frequent railway journeys. Indeed, 

 one might say that no man, unless he be of cast-iron nerves, 

 can stand them long when once he is past the first vigour of 



