8 SKETCHES IN THE HUNTING FIELD. 



The weight of many hunting seasons, and twinges of 

 an hereditary complaint which sometimes keeps him 

 fretting from the saddle, prevent the noble M.F.H. from 

 leading the van, slipping over those awkward stone 

 walls which occur so frequently in some parts of his 

 country, and charging those big black bullfinches which 

 diminish fields so materially in others, as he did in the 

 brave days of yore. But if any one wants to see a run 

 he cannot do better than— cannot do haH" so well as to 

 — keep one eye on the Marquis of AViltshire, and note 

 where his splendid weight-carrier is bearing him ; for if 

 the fox had sketched out a little plan of his intentions, 

 and laid it on the ]\Iaster's plate at breakfast-time, he 

 could hardly be more fully cognizant of what the little 

 beast was doing at any given time, and was going to 

 do next. 



Now and then, of course, a difficulty has to be sur- 

 mounted and a fence jumped, on which occasions 

 Lord Wiltshire still invariably arrives on the other 

 side with punctuality and dispatch. Nor has his early 

 ao-ility altogether departed, and it is probably with 

 something in the nature of a mild malediction on his 

 own awkwardness that a young gentleman recalls a 

 little incident that happened last season — how, coming 

 to a gate with an obstinate lock which necessitated 

 dismounting, he bungled about stopping his horse, and 

 suffered the Marquis to slide from his saddle and per- 

 form a task which assuredly devolved upon the younger 

 cavalier ; a proof, however, of the ready kindness and 



