1 88 How I Became a Sportsman. 



and trust he will forgive me ; I have been so 

 used to be run away with that I have got 

 into a habit of doing it myself, I fear) without 

 saying a few words about that glorious sport I 

 loved, and still love, so well. But they must 

 be few, as it is my intention at some future 

 time, if I have the approval of a kind public, 

 to give some of my later experiences, together 

 with some accounts of favourite horses, their 

 tempers and characteristics. 



As I have, I think, before stated, my father 

 never would sell an old favourite horse, but 

 when they were worn out, had them shot and 

 buried, or, what is still better (for it is a pity to 

 waste good meat), sent them to the pack of 

 hounds with which the best part of their hves 

 perhaps, and that very likely not the least 

 pleasant part, had been passed ; for horses 

 hke the excitement of hunting and the music 

 of the hounds as well almost as their riders. 

 See what life the sound of a horn will put into 

 an old hunter if he hears it accidentally ; they 

 bring out their best powers, and excite a spirit 

 of rivalry amongst their kind as pleasing as it is 

 inspiriting to the riders on their backs. What 

 more then, I repeat, can the good old horse 



