3 1 6 Saddle and Sirloin. 



trigger, bat, oar, and boxing-gloves came alike easy to 

 him. When the poets had called him " the very 

 worst huntsman that ever was born," they had said 

 their worst, and perhaps they were not very far wrong. 

 Among gentlemen he was never popular. The Mel- 

 tonians could not outride him, and they crabbed him 

 to make up for it. For society he cared little, and 

 the saddle was the easy-chair he loved. When he 

 got home after a short day he was quite ready to 

 have a second pack out if the humour suited him, and 

 when he got home after a long one, he liked his chop 

 and a pint of port, a chat with his friend Gully, and 

 so to bed. Sport was, in fact, his business, and 

 when he was fifty-four, and generally content to ride 

 lost, ojbs., he wasted to ride his King Charles at 

 8st. 7lbs. in the Two Thousand. A keen limner 

 describes him even at that age, as " short and awkward, 

 shrivelled and shrunk, with round shoulders and a 

 limping walk, ill-clothed in a brown frock coat with 

 velvet collar, loose grey trousers, and cloth boots." 

 Throughout his life he was singularly light of tongue, 

 and the last time we ever saw him, when he was 

 drawn about in a Bath chair, on the beach at 

 Brighton, the unruly member was going with its 

 pristine vigour. 

 Unlike 



" The shy-fed soda-watex-ing youths, 

 Who now o'er a country sail," 



and will not be troubled with kennel cares, Mr. Tom 

 Hodgson succeeded to the Badsworth at twenty-four, 

 when Sir Bellingham Graham resigned, and found, as 

 he expressed it, " twelve couple of hounds, and three 

 hacks, as a nest egg," Three seasons there, sixteen 

 in Holderness, two with the Quorn, and about one 

 and a half in part of Mr. Foljambe's country, gave 

 him plenty to do till he was about fifty, when the cry 

 of " Foljambe and Fox-hunting" and his own worth, 

 placed him at the head of the poll by 32 for the 



