96 THE BEST OF THE FUN 



look back upon little or no sport since my last entry, nor 

 even that I have spent a blank day — no hounds within 

 reach — but because my old goose-quill is wholly unloaded, 

 having nothing aboard but wet ink and a dry retrospect. 

 A right day's fox-hunting gives me — gives all who take 

 part in it — a three-volume novel of reminiscence, incident, 

 subject, and dream — a world of thought, for a while, 

 though like a star it may drop, or may vanish in a night 

 or a moment from our ken. A day's delight is but written 

 on a slate : the sponge of time wipes out by the morrow. 

 Without a thread, a guiding string, a sinew, there is no 

 nerve, no pulsation, no moulding of shape or form — and 

 the bare bone is better buried. I remember nothing of a 

 bad day (no, not bad — a day's outing with hounds is never 

 bad save and except a good horse has been lamed or killed, 

 a good run has been lost, or one's own brittle frame has 

 been shattered for a while) ; but I put a moderate day 

 aside at once in my bath and totally in my dinner — don't 

 you ? I feel grateful for warmth and comfort, and I dismiss 

 the disagreeable, of hope unsatisfied and preparation un- 

 requited. 1 have thrown in my lot with the best of good 

 fellows, and we are at least none the worse for it. I have 

 spent pleasant hours in hope and converse. But I have 

 little to talk about — nothing to jot down for future re- 

 ference. I am sanguine of to-morrow — and I feel better 

 on the thought. Lc roi est Jtiort, vive le roil — which I shall 

 at once proceed to translate, and to drink to the old, old 

 refrain, " Fox-hunting, God bless it ! " 



For diversion I turn to my hound-books. (I am not 

 about to inflict Kennel upon you. By-and-by, I may 

 brush up my pedigrees, and discourse upon " sorts," for 

 such few of you as will listen. But not now.) And at 

 once my heart goes out to the huntsman. Many of you 

 look upon him as being the happiest of mortals — as 

 having two good horses per diem to ride, free, gratis, 

 and to death if necessary — and as at this time of year 

 having merely to hold his hand for your solid mark of 

 appreciation. Why, this is their most miserable, most 

 anxious, most wearing time ! You and I come home 

 each evenim^ to our creature comforts — meaning, a roll 



