164 THE HUNTING FIELD 



is a secondary object ; how much stronger, then, must be the 

 feehng of the man who is no foxhunter, and whose sole depen- 

 dence is on the produce of that trampled soil. 



Take a field of turnips — what havoc and destruction a field 

 of horsemen make in smashing through its contents ! Not 

 only what the horses absolutely knock out of the ground and 

 destroy, but every turnip they hit is more or less injured, 

 especially if there comes a frost. We must say, and greatly to 

 their credit we say it, that it really is astonishing the damage 

 and inconvenience farmers put up with every 3'ear, and the 

 extraordinary good grace with which they do it. It is not the 

 grumpy, passive acquiescence, that looks — " I'd break your 

 head if I durst " — but the sheer downright permission to do 

 what the exigencies of the sport require. All farmers stipulate 

 for is against "wilful damage," and most justly are they 

 entitled to what they ask. Nothing can be more annoying to 

 the true sportsman than to see wanton or unnecessary mischief; 

 crushing young quicksets for the sake of a leap, letting cattle 

 escape for want of shutting the gate, or any of the numerous 

 acts of omission or commission that all go to swell the catalogue 

 of damage. 



Some townspeople have not the slightest idea of the damage 

 they do, indeed many of them do not seem to think it is 

 possible to do more harm to one field than to another. There's 

 our friend John Chub, the ironmonger, of Camomile Street, 

 who goes pound, pound, pounding, straight as an arrow, whether 

 hounds are running or drawing, just as he would clatter about 

 among his fenders, fire-irons, and hardware. Chub means no 

 harm, indeed there's no better man — regular at church, 

 punctual at business- — kind to his wife, ditto his children, pays 

 the income-tax without more grumbling than his neighbours, 

 never keeps the rate or tax-gatherers waiting, and if he only 

 knew when he was going to do harm he would never attempt 

 it ; but somehow Chub looks upon the country as a sort of 



