92 WAYFARING NOTIONS 



take a halfpenny worth of trouble to prevent the 

 Downs from becoming one vast thistle farm, and 

 if you do sit down you will know torture, as do 

 the poor dogs, who, like King Agag, come 

 delicately. If you feel that way inclined, play at 

 having your foot on your native down and your 

 name being anything you please to call yourself. 

 But don't put anything else that belongs to you 

 on to your native or otherwise territory, unless 

 you fancy being an animated pin-cushion. 



In a fine September week, when tied down 

 to go racing instead of wandering at Lewes, a 

 cutting from Mr Lucas's '* Sussex Highways and 

 Byways " came my way. The writer of the 

 Sussex book put before strangers — i.e., readers 

 not personally acquainted with a recently deceased 

 Sussex worthy — a word portrait so skilful that 

 these ought to be able to make for themselves 

 a presentment of the old sportsman, a picture 

 very near to the good fellow in his habit as he 

 lived. For myself, had I happened promiscuously 

 on the sketch without a word of reference to the 

 original's name or locale, I should, as must 

 almost everyone personally acquainted with the 

 Mr Home in question, have confidently identified 

 my old friend. At his feet I have sat many a 

 time and oft, absorbing sport and love of country 

 life, and wanting with eager longing to be free 

 to go and do likewise, as he descanted on wander- 

 ings far and near in the country where, getting 

 on for almost three parts of a century, he was a 

 notable character. Once upon a time John 

 Home had been a well-to-do sportsman, and a 

 sort of halo from his better-off, fast-going days 

 hung round him ever afterwards. Quaker-bred 

 he was, and a quaker connected with many rich 



