52 SPORTING REMINISCENCES 



But I soon came down again in agony. Morphia 

 to dull the pain was my miserable fate for days 

 and I have never danced properly since then. 



I have seen the Essex out, but my only riding 

 there was on a lovely grey mare, Safety, belonging 

 to Mr. Robinson, now Lord Rosmead, and I rode 

 her with one Master I had almost forgotten. 

 Lord Lonsdale of the Queens near Ascot. 



I was staying at Ascot, where there were two 

 carriage horses, christened for a joke Blood Royal 

 and Royal Ascot, and Lady Rosmead and I 

 thought we must see a meet on them. Two 

 nearly clean-bred bays, they were about the most 

 excitable mounts one can imagine. We missed 

 the meet, but found the Master wandering among 

 the fern looking for his hounds. 



We even compassed some small drains on our 

 fiery steeds, but we saw very httle of what to me 

 seemed a nightmare of hunting, through endless 

 woods, up and down rides and through bracken. 

 I was living at Guernsey then, where I pubHshed 

 my first book The Thorn Bit, and the Boer War 

 cloud fell as a fog on its possible success. 



I wonder if the kindly reviewer who writes for 

 Punch could guess the wild joy which his first 

 review of The Thorn Bit gave. How it was 

 treasured and kept and studied with wild hope. 



I think that what success I have had I really 

 owe to the great kindness of Mr. Alfred Watson 

 of the Badminton. With great diffidence I sent 



