Vol. III.— No. 62.] 
Saturday, March 4, 1854. 
[Price 6 d . 
THE old earth-stopper, or the find 
AND THE FINISH. 
DV JOHN MILLS, AUTHOR OP “THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN.” 
CHAPTER VI. 
TOM PITTS SUBMITS A MODEST WHY POR EVERY 
COGENT WHEREFORE. 
(( -itThatever a man may be,” remarked the sage of the 
W Jolly Gardener, “ let him, I say, first know his own 
business before he takes an apprentice.’' 
Sam Waller jerked his head on one side as a sign of entire 
approval to the sentiment; but possessing a gloomy remin- 
iscence of the way in which he had been snubbed on former 
occasions, put a masterly restraint, at high pressure, upon 
the impulse to shout with stentorian voice “ Bray-vo,” 
aud the momentary expression of excitement upon his 
features faded like the prismatic colours of the dying 
dolphin. 
“And yet,” resumed Tom Pitts smiling at the influence 
working with so desirable effect in checking the probability 
of intervention to his monopoly in elucidating the truth, 
“and yet,” 6aid he, “nobody who rides to hounds for a 
season or two but talks, and seems to think, he could write 
a book about foxhunting, when he doesn’t know even as 
much as the alphabet o’ the science. Now, the straight 
C oers — the riding men o’ the day — are o’ this ilk. They 
know little enough, and care less, o’ the sport so long as 
they’re not stopped ; but let one of ’em be told so — let a 
first-flight man who jams close to hounds, be the country 
what it may, enclosed or open, hard or easy — I say let him 
be told he's no sportsman alter all, and what would he do or 
say ? Why,” continued the old earihstopper gravely as he 
glanced around him, “ my o-pinion is he’d split, sirs, like 
a glass with boiling water poured into it. The crack 
rider, who thinks being in front from the find to the finish 
is the only thing necessary to qualify him for a foxhunter 
o’ the first stamp, is too lull o’conceit to learn anything more. 
His edicatiou ends just about where it began. lie knows 
a fox when he views one : thinks a check disagreeable, 
and likes to have a fast thing as much as possible to 
himself: watches the cast merely to get away with hounds 
the moment they hit off the line again, and looks at their 
working through difficulties only with impatience at their 
being troubled with the slows. These, sirs, are the notions 
of your go-ahead foxhunters o’ the present day. As I once 
said before, unless hounds go the pace, no matter what they 
do, the run affords little or no sport, because the sport, in 
itself, is so little understood. The fast times we live in have 
gradually brought about the great change in hunting ; 
until, at la>t, it’s as close as a toucher completely spoiled. 
With the speed that hounds now go, a good game fox 
cannot stand before ’em, with a burning seem, more than 
thirty or flve-an’-thirty minutes ; and with scarcely a tongue 
thrown, perhaps, they burst him along like gazehounds from 
the slips, and little less mute than moles. If they can hold 
on to him for a little while, into him they run ; but this fire 
and flash are just the very opposite of what’s wanted when 
difficulties begin. A very fast hound is too fond of having 
his head in the air, and, like a very fast man, isn’t adapted 
for plodding work. What lias been gained in speed has been 
lost in working powers, and hounds throw up now the 
moment they’re at fault, and too often look to their hunts- 
man to help ’em out of it. With the same feelings of those 
who ride to ’em, they want to be flying ; but in bringing ’em 
to this kind o’ artificial state, the animal hunted, or more 
properly speaking, raced down, seems to have been quite 
forgotten. It appears never to have entered the heads of the 
breeders of these flyers o’ the day, that a fox, from his 
natural habits, isn’t made to be treated in this fashion. 
Throughout the night he’s on the pad, looking out for what 
he may have a long way to travel for — his supper ; and the 
chances are, by the time lie’s unkenneled, a rabbit or two 
puff out his ribs. Tired, perhaps, and gorged, lie's startled 
from his doso by a hound openiug upon his drag; and 
although capable of showing plenty of sport, when fairly 
hunted, notwithstanding the great advantage of the fresh 
condition and empty state of the stomachs of his enemies, 
compured with his own, yet how can anything with lega 
be able to go the pace lie’s called upon to show as soon as 
found, and stand long enough before hounds to be worthy of 
the name o’ sport ? 1 say, sirs, it is’nt possible. As long as 
foxes eat of a night and sleep by day, so long will they ba 
fast enough only to be bunted by hounds of a certain speed, 
and pace beyond this only mars the sport. Then again we 
bear of preservers of foxes — that is, they’re not either shot, 
poisoned, or trapped ; but those who feed them, or see their 
food isn’t kept down too close for ’em to thrive, are about 
the rarest of her Majesty’s subjects my eyes ever beheld.” 
Tom Pitts now paused, and, lifting a large brown jug from 
the surface of the polished table before him, curried it to Ills 
lips, and took a deep long draught of the contents, which 
caused a great temporary want of breath. The force of ex- 
ample acted generally with the customers then congregated 
beneath the rafters of the Jolly Gardener, and Mistress Box, 
keeping a prudent eye to the profits, saw, with some degree 
of satisfaction, that a reinforcement of tankards and glasses 
would soon be demanded upon her store in reserve. John 
Brown, probably from a sympathetic influence, felt also 
pleased at. the movement in common, and he and the widow 
exchanged radiant smiles of love, mingled with gratifying 
thoughts concerning the business. 
Vanquisher, lying, as was his wont, before the firo, rose 
leisurely, and, after r comfortable stretch, stood looking at 
Tom Pitts with ears thrown back and waving sternas much ‘ 
