460 Saddle and Sirloin. 



hat, and remarked, " It seems then that I may retire 

 — I am not wanted here," caused many a laugh 

 among those who "could see Tom saying it." To 

 the last he could go a burster in the hunting field for 

 a short distance, and no one loved the sport better, or 

 remembered more accurately the work of every great 

 Brocklesby hound. Old William Smith's name 

 brought up many a racy story, told in a dry, quiet 

 way. He bought a large number of hunters for Baron 

 Rothschild ; and although he did not bother about 

 breeding blood stock, he liked a race dearly. We well 

 remember meeting him in the paddock on Carac- 

 tacus's Derby-day, and his telling us that he " didn't 

 quite see the winner," but he had his eye on Lord 

 Clifden, as a regular clinker for the next Derby, and 

 that he should never see such a two-year-old again. 

 He was also a capital judge of cart-horses (although he 

 hated the job), and a grey he met at the Worcester 

 Royal was the apple of his eye. 



A few weeks before his death he had the misfortune 

 to have one of his little fingers chopped off in a cir- 

 cular sawing machine. It did not heal well, and at 

 last he applied some salve, whkh cured it, perhaps 

 too quickly. After that he burnt the back of one of 

 his hands severely. Both of these accidents told on 

 him ; and then he got very wet over a farm valuation. 

 On reaching home he took to his bed, and lay there 

 from the Tuesday to the next Monday, when he died. 

 Lincolnshire will long think of her fine old hunting 

 " worthy." 



Mr. John Thompson, on the other side of the 

 Humber, died not many weeks before him. For some 

 time past he had been complaining slightly of illness, 

 and Mr. Teale, the celebrated surgeon of Leeds, had 

 warned him that his heart was affected, and that he 

 must beware of all excitement. However, Sir Clif- 

 ford Constable's staghounds came to look for an out- 

 lying deer, and to uncart a fresh one if they failed to 



