November's Joys 



Let us never forget then, when we come across 

 the veterans and those who are dropping out of 

 the ranks from ill-health, that we owe our sport 

 to their strenuous exertions, and that if it had 

 not been for them — and their fellows — there 

 would have been no fox-hunting for us. 



But enough of sermonising on the opening 

 day. There, mounted on a quiet old horse, is 

 the county member — a rare one to go a couple 

 of decades ago, and the jolliest of companions 

 now at a Hunt dinner. It was he who cut out 

 the work in that historic run of five-and-twenty 

 years since ; but he is modest about his achieve- 

 ments in the saddle, and always insists that 

 his friend, who is riding by his side, and with 

 whom Time has dealt gently, inasmuch as his 

 riding weight is still under eleven stone (our 

 M.P. walks 1 6 st. 7 lb.), had by far the best 

 of it. Of course, there are the gentlemen 

 from the neighbouring town — doctor, merchant, 

 lawyer, or tradesman — generally well mounted 

 and always good sportsmen, though sometimes 

 apt when they do ride hard to get a little near 

 hounds. Farmers are always to be found in 



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