coursing expedition near Alton--had given him a grayhound that he had
fallen in love with--had invited him to attend another coursing meeting
near our own house in Berkshire--and finally, we were now, in the early
autumn, with all manner of pointers, and setters, and grayhounds, and
spaniels, shooting ponies, and gun-cases, paying the return visit to him.

He had at that time a large house at Botley, with a lawn and gardens
sweeping down to the Bursledon River, which divided his (Mr. Cobbett's)
territories from the beautiful grounds of the old friend where we had been
originally staying, the great squire of the place. His own house--large,
high, massive, red, and square, and perched on a considerable
eminence--always struck me as not being unlike its proprietor. It was
filled at that time almost to overflowing. Lord Cochrane was there, then
in the very height of his warlike fame, and as unlike the common notion of
a warrior as could be. A gentle, quiet, mild young man, was this burner of
French fleets and cutter-out of Spanish vessels, as one should see in a
summer day. He lay about under the trees reading Selden on the Dominion of
the Seas, and letting the children (and children always know with whom
they may take liberties) play all sorts of tricks with him at their
pleasure. His ship's surgeon was also a visitor, and a young midshipman,
and sometimes an elderly lieutenant, and a Newfoundland dog; fine
sailor-like creatures all. Then there was a very learned clergyman, a
great friend of Mr. Gifford, of the "Quarterly," with his wife and
daughter--exceedingly clever persons. Two literary gentlemen from London
and ourselves completed the actual party; but there was a large
fluctuating series of guests for the hour, or guests for the day, of
almost all ranks and descriptions, from the earl and his countess to the
farmer and his dame. The house had room for all, and the hearts of the
owners would have had room for three times the number

I never saw hospitality more genuine, more simple, or more thoroughly
successful in the great end of hospitality, the putting every body
completely at ease. There was not the slightest attempt at finery, or
display, or gentility. They called it a farm-house, and every thing was in
accordance with the largest idea of a great English yeoman of the old
time. Every thing was excellent--every thing abundant--all served with the
greatest nicety by trim waiting damsels; and every thing went on wi