VI. 



AN UNLUCKY SPORTSMAN. 



Fortune is said to be capricious. In her treatment of 

 poor Chansett, however, she is certainly consistent 

 enough — too consistent a good deal for him — for it is 

 his peculiarity that something always seems to happen 

 to spoil his fun whenever he attempts to pursue his 

 favourite sport. 



It is not that he always comes to grief when out with 

 the hounds. He rides fairly well; and, considering 

 that for some years past fate has put him on hired or 

 borrowed horses, he has not very much to complain of 

 in this respect. If there be a rabbit hole in a field, a 

 loosely fiUed-in drain, or any other sort of trap, it is not 

 improbable that he will be caught in it ; and when he 

 takes his own line at a fence there is not unlikely to be 

 deep and treacherous ground on the other side. More 

 than once he has been turned over by a tough binder in 

 a rotten-looking hurdle ; and, in fact, he has rather 

 more than his share of bad luck, having regard to his 

 undeniably respectable judgment. 



But, somehow or other, things usually go badly with 

 him. When anticipation looks rosiest there is an 



