HUNTINGCROP HALL. 193 



dual operation, but was eventually managed through the 

 instrumentality of a little boy, who held The Sultan's 

 head, and addressed him in a series of forcible epithets 

 that I should never have dared to use : language, how- 

 ever, which, though reprehensible from a moral point of 

 view, seemed to appeal to the animal's feelings, and was 

 at any rate successful. 



He danced a good deal when I was once more on his 

 back, and seemed to like going in a series of small 

 bounds, which were peculiarly irritating to sit. But 1 

 did not so much mind now, for no critical eye was near 

 to watch my hand wandering to the convenient pommel 

 or to note my taking such other little precautions as the 

 exigencies of the situation, and the necessity for carrying 

 out the first law of nature, seemed to suggest. 



Hunting, in this way, wasn't really so very bad. There 

 did not appear to be so very much danger, the morning 

 air was refreshing and pleasant, and the country looked 

 bright. There always seemed to be a gate to each field, 

 which, though troublesome to open at first, ultimately 

 yielded to patience and perseverance and the handle of 

 my whip. I might get home safely after all ; and as for 

 my desertion, where every one was looking after himself, 

 it was scarcely likely they could have observed my de- 

 fection. No ; this was not altogether bad fun. I could 

 say with truth for the rest of my life that I " had hunted." 

 It would add a zest to the perusal of sporting literature, 

 and, above all, extend the range of my charity by making 

 me sincerely appreciate men who really rode. 



o 



