196 How I Became a Sportsmax. 



gallop across country was the last thing 

 they thought of, to the quiet-looking man 

 in a black coat and white neck-cloth, as clean 

 as a new pin, riding a sporting-looking grey, 

 with a very corky look about him, and slightly 

 wide and ragged hips, down to the stout 

 little gentleman on a corresponding cob, who 

 will gallop down the lanes and scramble 

 through the fences all day in the wake of 

 the better mounted and more pretentious 

 customers, all the time fancying he is hunting, 

 and who will be sure to talk louder afterwards, 

 have gone at a better pace, jumped more and 

 bigger fences than anybody else. All is quiet, 

 business-like, and gentlemanly. Then look at 

 the hounds, as there they sit or stand, 



In all their beauty's pride, 



with their quiet and staid demeanour, with 

 their long, sagacious, judge-like faces, looking 

 at this moment as if a fox would be quite safe 

 in their midst. The master is having a word 

 with the huntsman, many of the real sports- 

 men critically examining the hounds. All at 

 once the word is given to move off, and away 

 trots the first whip, followed by the hounds, 



