1881-82.] BOXING DAY, 1881. 403 



Village to Lord BrudeneU's Gorse, and by Old Dalby's ravines 

 and gullies, with little incident, save a chance illustration of 

 the suppression of the Ladies' Land League. A good lady, 

 who only a month ago stood in her gateway brandishing a fire- 

 shovel, now opened the same gate with a smile that might have 

 swallowed the weapon — or, more properly, found burial for the 

 tomahawk. And yet (who knows ?) bribery and corruption that 

 should now be learning pmity in gaol may have been at work 

 to disarm this poor old harridan of her only ready weapon. 

 We Uve in a wicked world — yet who dare give up tipping a 

 porter or feeing his neighbour's servant ? Non Ego — or, in 

 the comprehensive diction of the Anglo-Indian, "My very 

 poor man, Sahib." Mammon, Mammon, righteous or un- 

 righteous, pay it in befitting coin you must — when you can. 

 This is too suggestive of Christmas. Back to Old Dalby ; on 

 for a brief while to Six Hills ; hear of a beaten fox at Lord 

 Aylesford's ; commiserate the huntsman on an unstopped earth 

 at Slioby Scoles ; and drink liis health in a first bumper as 

 to-night's occasion offers. 



A curious accident is said to have occurred during the same 

 day with the Belvoii*. Since the recent autumn gale, trees, 

 and limbs of trees, have been strewing the fields in all direc- 

 tions ; and on Monday last it appears that a horse belonging 

 to Colonel Reeve, and ridden by his groom, jumped over a 

 fence into an ahattis of fallen timber, was pierced to the heart 

 by a branch, and died on the spot. 



BOXING DAY, 1881. 



Very seasonable indeed, to many estabhshments, was the 

 three days' rest enforced by the frost of Christmas. Deep 

 ground and incessant work had begun to tell on every stud ; 

 and, however insatiate their masters might be, the grooms all 

 passed a happier Christmas that a brief interval was allowed 

 them for repairs. We spent Christmas on our legs ; ate our 



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