200 How I Became a Sportsman. 



a skirter or a babbler long ago. I am con- 

 tinually getting off the line, going away at 

 score, or babbling away on some fresh 

 scent. 



I believe I said I was going to give the 

 actual experiences of a young sportsman — a 

 boy, — and boys were boys in my day, and 

 not the little men they are now or apt to 

 be, — and here am I very nearly describing a 

 splendid run in a fine country ; but I am 

 brought up all at once with the unpleasant 

 reflection that I have seen the meet, the 

 draw, the find, and here am I left standing 

 by the side of the gorse, without even the 

 advantage of being mounted on my old pony 

 to scramble after them ; and here I must give 

 it up, as the last of the rush has just disap- 

 peared in the distance. Oh, dear ! oh, dear ! 

 I must give it up for the present, hoping at 

 some future time to give the run in full. 

 But then it must be one in which I took a 

 part. 



I shall now very shortly have to bid the 

 reader farewell (for a time only, I hope) ; but 

 before doing so, I will give one anecdote to 

 prove that fox-hunters of the present day 



