TOM MOORE AND BOWLES. 89 



to mind the genuine hospitality of fox-hunters hi 

 those times, it seems that with them has passed 

 away also that social intercourse, unfettered and 

 unrestricted by the formalities of the present age, 

 by which country gentlemen and fox-hunters of 

 the old school were so particularly distinguished. 



Of Dr. Starkey also, my friend's father, I have 

 every reason to speak in the highest terms, as 

 equally hospitable, clever, and entertaining ; and at 

 his house I had first the pleasure of meeting Tom 

 Moore, the poet, who resided in the neighbour- 

 hood. Not far distant, at Bremhill, resided also 

 another eccentric poet, Bowles, of whose absence 

 of mind and vagaries of imagination many stories 

 were told. His chief mode of locomotion being on 

 horseback, he was met one day by a friend, walk- 

 ing leisurely along the road, book in hand, with 

 the reins of his bridle hanging on his arm, and the 

 head-piece with the bit traihng on the ground 

 behind him. 



"Why, Bowles," exclaimed his friend, ^^ what 

 has become of your horse ?" 



" Behind me," was his reply, without taking the 

 trouble to look back. 



" Then he is an uncommon long way behind, 

 Bowles, for I can see a mile of road, but no horse." 



On this occasion, during one of his absent fits. 



