s of the fribbles and fops of the time of the first Georges, when a
fool, a sot, and a fox-hunter were considered synonymous terms. Of late
years it has pleased a sportsman, with a wonderful talent for
picturesquely describing the events of a fox-hunt, to write two sporting
novels, in which all the leading characters are either fools or rogues.

"In England all conditions of men, except bishops, from ratcatchers to
Royalty, are to be found in the hunting-field--equalised by
horsemanship, and fraternising under the influence of a genial sport.
Among fox-hunters we can trace a long line of statesmen, from William of
Orange to Pitt and Fox. Lord Althorp was a master of hounds; and Lord
Palmerston we have seen, within the last few years, going--as he goes
everywhere--in the first flight." This was before the French fall of the
late Premier. Cromwell's Ironsides were hunting men; Pope, the poet,
writes in raptures of a gallop with the Wiltshire Harriers; and
Gladstone, theologian, politician, and editor of Homer, bestrides his
celebrated white mare in Nottinghamshire, and scurries along by the side
of the ex-War Minister, the Duke of Newcastle.

"The progress of agriculture is indelibly associated with fox-hunting;
for the three great landlords, who did more to turn sand and heath into
corn and wool, and make popular the best breeds of stock and best course
of cultivation--Francis, Duke of Bedford; Coke, Earl of Leicester; and
the first Lord Yarborough--were all masters of hounds.

"When indecency formed the staple of our plays, and a drunken debauch
formed the inevitable sequence of every dinner-party, a fool and a
fox-hunter were synonymous. Squire Western was the representative of a
class, which, however, was not more ridiculous than the patched,
perfumed Sir Plumes, whom Hogarth painted, and Pope satirised.
Fox-hunters are not a class now--roads, newspapers, and manufacturing
emigration have equalised the condition of the whole kingdom; and
fox-hunters are just like any other people, who wear clean shirts, and
can afford to keep one or more horses.

"It is safe to assert that hunting-men, as a class, are temperate. No
man can ride well across a difficult country who is not. We must,
however, admit that the birds who have most fouled their own nest have
been broken-down sportsmen, chiefly racing men, who have turned writers
to turn a penny. These unfortunate people, with the fatal example of
'Noctes Ambrosianae' before