s," said Mr. Spooner.

"I went there."

"Then you ought to have known better," said Mrs. Spooner. "When a man
loses the hounds in that country, he ought to go direct to Brackett's
Wood. If you had come on to Brackett's, you'd have seen as good a
thirty-two minutes as ever you wished to ride." When the ladies went
out of the room Mrs. Spooner gave a parting word of advice to her
husband, and to the host. "Now, Tom, don't you drink port-wine. Lord
Chiltern, look after him, and don't let him have port-wine."

Then there began an altogether different phase of hunting
conversation. As long as the ladies were there it was all very well
to talk of hunting as an amusement; good sport, a thirty minutes
or so, the delight of having a friend in a ditch, or the glory of
a stiff-built rail were fitting subjects for a lighter hour. But
now the business of the night was to begin. The difficulties, the
enmities, the precautions, the resolutions, the resources of the
Brake hunt were to be discussed. And from thence the conversation of
these devotees strayed away to the perils at large to which hunting
in these modern days is subjected;--not the perils of broken necks
and crushed ribs, which can be reduced to an average, and so an end
made of that small matter; but the perils from outsiders, the perils
from new-fangled prejudices, the perils from more modern sports, the
perils from over-cultivation, the perils from extended population,
the perils from increasing railroads, the perils from literary
ignorances, the perils from intruding cads, the perils from
indifferent magnates,--the Duke of Omnium, for instance;--and that
peril of perils, the peril of decrease of funds and increase of
expenditure! The jaunty gentleman who puts on his dainty breeches,
and his pair of boots, and on his single horse rides out on a
pleasant morning to some neighbouring meet, thinking himself a
sportsman, has but a faint idea of the troubles which a few staunch
workmen endure in order that he may not be made to think that his
boots, and his breeches, and his horse, have been in vain.

A word or two further was at first said about that unfortunate wood
for which Silverbridge at the present felt himself responsible. Finn
said that he was sure the Duke would look to it, if Silverbridge
would mention it. Chiltern simply groaned. Silverbridge said nothing,
remembering how many troubles he had on hand at this moment. Then
by degrees their solicitude worked its