36 SKETCHES IN THE HUNTING FIELD. 



As aforesaid, Tom is now talking to the oppressor ; 

 and though the most elastic definitions of beauty will 

 not include his face or figure, he is far from a disagree- 

 able object to contemplate. 



He is now nearer fifty than forty, though not much. 

 His thick brown hair has only just the faintest tinge of 

 grey here and there, and his whiskers are as yet free 

 from that slight indication that he is not as young as he 

 was : a fact of which he would be well-nigh unconscious 

 were it not that his horses seem to labour rather more 

 towards the end of the day than they used to do, and 

 this sets their master thinking that the girth of his waist 

 may have some influence on the peculiarity. 



He wears brown tops, of course, and, equally of 

 course, cord breeches, a dark tweed shooting jacket, and 

 rough, low chimney-pot hat ; and these garments, with 

 what they contain, together with a comfortable saddle, 

 approach in weight almost as near to fifteen stone as 

 they do to fourteen. 



Tom, however, never had the slightest pretensions to 

 being a brilliant rider. He does not jump if he can 

 avoid it, and an extensive knowledge of the Meadow- 

 mere country enables him to find his way from point 

 to point without bumping much in his substantial 

 saddle. 



He and his horses perfectly understand each other, 

 and if Tom has to take his place with the main body of 

 the field, who follow each other over a moderate jump, 

 the business is managed without any unnecessary 



