186 THE SPORT OF KINGS 



amongst those to whom the horn of the huntsman 

 and the cry of the pack is the sweetest of music. 

 I remember a parson — I like the fine old word 

 " parson," and he had a strong dislike to the modern 

 euphuisms of " clergyman " and " minister " — 

 who, in returning thanks to the toast of " The 

 Clergy," said that there was no need for him 

 to make excuses for being a sportsman, for sport 

 was part, and a great part, of the national character, 

 and in his opinion a parson was not well fitted for 

 his duties unless he was himself a sportsman, and 

 was thus able to thoroughly sympathise with those 

 amongst whom his lot was cast. With that opinion 

 I entirely agree. 



But to return to the hunting parson. Perhaps 

 the prejudice against the parson hunting may date 

 back to the early Georgian times, when manners 

 were as corrupt and dissipated as at the time of the 

 Restoration, without the wit and elegance which 

 characterised the later years of the Stuarts, and 

 when the private chaplain of the country squire 

 hunted, brewed the punch, and was by no means a 

 credit to his cloth. I have, however, a sneaking 

 fancy that some of it may be traced to the Rev. 

 Sydney Smith, who, when he came into Yorkshire, 

 found himself rather out of his element amongst 

 his clerical brethren of the East Riding, all of 

 whom were keen horsemen, and most of them 

 good ones. Sydney Smith was a bad horseman, 

 and was in misery when across a horse, and he 

 gave utterance to the opinion that " a parish 

 priest had no business to ride." I don't wish 

 to be uncharitable, but I fancy that if he had 

 been as great a horseman as he was a wit, he 

 would have said that " every parish priest ought 



