368 Silk and Scarlet, 



" Blessed ! if it ain't Old Bald,'' and rode like distrac- 

 tion as he never did before or since. Ropsley Rise had 

 also its " Old Piebald," but Will Goodall gave him such 

 tremendous drillings, always down wind, for six 

 seasons, that he turned quite g^rey with trouble at 

 last. His home was the woodlands, which he would 

 never leave, and many of the woodmen said they 

 remembered him for nearly eleven years. His fur was 

 like fringe, and his skin was as thick again as it ought 

 to have been, when they grabbed him at last ; and as 

 they could hardly pull him to pieces, Will considered 

 that it would be best to skin him, and to have a cap 

 made out of it, which could defy Time. 



. ^ ,, But we have fairly run from scent to 



A r arewell. . 111 



view, and our note-book, the companion 

 of so many pleasant days, is thrown, blotted and 

 helpless, into the waste-basket at last. After wan- 

 dering with it, according to Bradshaw and the sign- 

 posts, nearly three thousand leagues, we may well 

 feel glad it is gone ; and it must go hard with us 

 indeed before we buy its little marble-backed suc- 

 cessor, and make a sporting Ulysses of ourselves 

 again. We have left few nooks of real ** Silk" or 

 " Scarlet" interest unexplored, from the pleasant 

 meadows 



** Where Greta trips with twinkling fesi 

 To join the statelier Tees," 



down to the glades of the New Forest and the haunts 

 of the White Collars- Ili Nimrod's day, the Turf, 

 the Chase, and the Road were as inseparable as the 

 "Three Legs of Man" on the Manxman's shield. 

 TJie memory of " The Road," with " Sir Harry Pey- 

 ton's greys, Lord Sefton's white-legged chestnuts, 

 Annesley's roans, Fitzroy Stanhope's dark-browns, 

 Dolphin's pies, Russell's speedy bays, Barry's whites, 

 Lord Harborough's fast little browns,""^ and all the 



♦ Sketches by Whis, 



