on usually
rides as though he were more or less under a cloud. The cloud is not
to be seen in a melancholy brow or a shamed demeanour; for the hunting
parson will have lived down those feelings, and is generally too
forcible a man to allow himself to be subjected to such annoyances; nor
is the cloud to be found in any gentle tardiness of his motions, or an
attempt at suppressed riding; for the hunting parson generally rides
hard. Unless he loved hunting much he would not be there. But the cloud
is to be perceived and heard in the manner in which he speaks of himself
and his own doings. He is never natural in his self-talk as is any
other man. He either flies at his own cloth at once, marring some false
apology for his presence, telling you that he is there just to see the
hounds, and hinting to you his own knowledge that he has no business to
ride after them; or else he drops his profession altogether, and speaks
to you in a tone which makes you feel that you would not dare to speak
to him about his parish. You can talk to the banker about his banking,
the brewer about his brewing, the farmer about his barley, or the
landlord about his land; but to a hunting parson of this latter class,
you may not say a word about his church.

There are three modes in which a hunting parson may dress himself for
hunting, the variations having reference solely to the nether man. As
regards the upper man there can never be a difference. A chimney-pot
hat, a white neckerchief, somewhat broad in its folds and strong with
plentiful starch, a stout black coat, cut rather shorter than is common
with clergymen, and a modest, darksome waistcoat that shall attract no
attention, these are all matters of course. But the observer, if he will
allow his eye to descend below these upper garments, will perceive that
the clergyman may be comfortable and bold in breeches, or he may be
uncomfortable and semi-decorous in black trowsers. And there is another
mode of dress open to him, which I can assure my readers is not an
unknown costume, a tertium quid, by which semi-decorum and comfort are
combined. The hunting breeches are put on first, and the black trowsers
are drawn over them.

But in whatever garb the hunting parson may ride, he almost invariably
rides well, and always enjoys the sport. If he did not, what would tempt
him to run counter, as he does, to his bishop and the old ladies? And
though, when the hounds are first dashing out of covert, and