Saturday, February 25, 1854. 
[Price § d . 
Vol. III. — No. 61 .] 
the old earth- stopper, or the find 
AND THE FINISH. 
BY JOHN MILLS, AUTHOR OF “THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN.'' 
CHAPTER V. 
“ England expects every (sports) man to do his duty." 
“TT doesn’t follow,” said Tom Pitts, about the middle of 
1 one of those social evenings at the Jolly Gardener's, 
when ho took so prominent a position as leader and expositor 
of the subject of discussion, “ it doesn’t follow,” repeated he, 
“ that because a man keeps a stud o' hunters and a pack o' 
hounds, that he must be a sportsman. I've known the 
ownerB of both to be much better qualified for grinding an 
organ and learning French poodles to dance. But bless us 
all, I say,” continued the old earthstopper folding his arms 
slowly across his breast, and glancing upwards at the ceiling 
just above the few, thin, bleached looks which told of the 
frosting hand of time, “ how wo little pippins swim ! If we 
can only get the eyos of our neighbours to stare at us a bit, 
we feel grand enough to wear bishops’ aprons, corporals’ 
uniforms, or to sport the horn of a M. F. H. at our saddles. 
Nothing’s too high for the vanity o’ most folk ; and the higher 
our kites fly, why the deeper they fall when the string snaps, 
that’s all. Now, from what I know and can tell ye,” and 
Tom Pitts pursed his lips together, and smacked them with an 
expression of no ordinary conceit of the value of the oracle about 
to be delivered, “and can tell ye,” repeated he, “of the doolies 
of a master o’ hounds; they don’t lie, sirs, in everybody’s 
overalls. No. no ; the overalls are few and far distant to 
cover, as it where, the dooties of a master o’ hounds. In 
the first place he should be a bred and born gentleman, 
well known and respected in the country he means to hunt ; 
for somehow or other a stranger, good as he may bo in every 
respect, has to work his own way slowly like a cork against 
stream. Farmers are shy birds, and look out o’ the corners 
o' their eyes at him when he may be thinking they’ve got 
'em turned just t’ other way. I don't mean to say that 
farmers are hard to please— far from it; but still if a master 
o’ hounds thinks he’s a-going to 6how sport without having 
the farmers with him, he never made a greater mistake in 
the whole course of his blessed life. He must know how, 
when, and where to shake 'em by the hand, crack a joke 
with ’em, and not look as if his white choker had too much 
starch in it when asked to take a glass of ale, a jumping 
ball, or a snack. He must set his fuce against unfair riding 
over young grass, wheat, and layers, knocking off locks, 
or doing any wilful or uncalled-for damage. When, how- 
ever, any injury is done, no matter of what kind, from tho 
loss of an old dame’s cockerel to smashing down bare and 
gates, amends should be made so as to stop all cause for 
grumbling. That’s the way, neighbours, to get foxes pre- 
served ; and notwithstanding machinery’s taken the place of 
a good many horses and men, they havn’t found out, as yet, 
anything to take the place o’ foxes in foxhunting,’ and the 
ex-whipper-in chuckled at what he deemed worthy, at least, 
to be received as a close connection to a joke. The shaft, 
however pointed as it was supposed to be, seemed to fall 
short of the mark ; for, except a few inquiring looks concern- 
ing the mysterious cause of Tom’s inward explosion, no other 
effect was produced. Indifferent, perhaps, to the failure, 
the expositor took up the thread of his discourse, and re- 
sumed : — 
“To be more than a master in name, lie ought to know 
not only the dooties of his hound servants in the field and 
kennel, but also to bo able to correct the slightest fault, and 
show, when need be, how the work is to be done. A master 
o’ hounds, like the commodore of a fleet, ought to have every 
rope at his finger’s ends, although there may be no occasion 
for his pulling and hauling very often. Now I remember 
well, ay, as if it were but yesterday, when our squire camo 
on one of his visits of what ho called inspection, about a 
week after Vanquisher there Tom extended a hand towards 
the old hound, stretched, in the laziest of nil conceivable 
postures, before the Jolly Gardener’s wood- fire, crackling 
cheerfully on the hearth,— “about a week after Vanquisher 
there,” repeated he, desirous, probably, of drawing the eyes 
of the entire assembly into one focus upon the “ grey ruin 
of beauty,” “ was entered.” 
Upon this direct reference being rnado to Vanquisher, lie 
raised his head reluctantly, and acknowledged the compli- 
ment by giving three faint knocks on the floor with the tip 
of his stern. This done, the drowsy old hound rolled 
indolently over, and once more resigned himself to nature's 
soft nurse — gentle sleep. 
“ After putting on his frock,” resumed Tom Pitts, “ our 
squire began bis rounds. The boiling house was the first 
place he put his wonderful sharp eyes and nose into, und 
here he looked at the coppers, and saw that everything was 
clean and wholesome: then he went to the feeding room, 
and examined the troughs ; and being satisfied with the 
cleanliness and order of both these departments, pointed for 
the courts and lodging-rooms. 
“ * How will you have them drafted, sir? ’ said Harry, a 
little shaky, for he knew full well that if, as huntsman, he’d 
overlooked but one whose nose only was a little too hot, our 
master would discover it. 
“ ‘ The young entry first,’ replied the squire, ‘ and each 
hound singly.’ 
“ The drawing now commenced, and as lie—” Tom Pitts 
again directed the attention of the company to Vanquisher, 
lying comfortably wrapped in slumber deep, if snoring loud 
might be received us evidence of its profundity, “ came for- 
ward, I think I can see the squire's smile at this moment by 
tho clock. 
WELL OVElt. — Drawn by L\ Herring. 
