The American Senator. Anthony Trollope

when the meet was at the old kennels—the park-gates were open so that vehicles could come up on the green sward.

      "That's Captain Glomax, I suppose," said Morton. "I don't know him, but from the way he's talking to the huntsman you may be sure of it."

      "He is the great man, is he? All these dogs belong to him?"

      "Either to him or the hunt."

      "And he pays for those servants?"

      "Certainly."

      "He is a very rich man, I suppose." Then Mr. Morton endeavoured to explain the position of Captain Glomax. He was not rich. He was no one in particular—except that he was Captain Glomax; and his one attribute was a knowledge of hunting. He didn't keep the "dogs" out of his own pocket. He received £2,000 a year from the gentlemen of the county, and he himself only paid anything which the hounds and horses might cost over that. "He's a sort of upper servant then?" asked the Senator.

      "Not at all. He's the greatest man in the county on hunting days."

      "Does he live out of it?"

      "I should think not."

      "It's a deal of trouble, isn't it?"

      "Full work for an active man's time, I should say." A great many more questions were asked and answered, at the end of which the Senator declared that he did not quite understand it, but that as far as he saw he did not think very much of Captain Glomax.

      "If he could make a living out of it I should respect him," said the Senator;—"though it's like knife-grinding or handling arsenic—an unwholesome sort of profession."

      "I think they look very nice," said Morton, as one or two well-turned-out young men rode up to the place.

      "They seem to me to have thought more about their breeches than anything else," said the Senator. "But if they're going to hunt why don't they hunt? Have they got a fox with them?" Then there was a further explanation.

      At this moment there was a murmur as of a great coming arrival, and then an open carriage with four post-horses was brought at a quick trot into the open space. There were four men dressed for hunting inside, and two others on the box. They were all smoking, and all talking. It was easy to see that they did not consider themselves the least among those who were gathered together on this occasion. The carriage was immediately surrounded by grooms and horses, and the ceremony of disencumbering themselves of great coats and aprons, of putting on spurs and fastening hat-strings was commenced. Then there were whispered communications from the grooms, and long faces under some of the hats. This horse hadn't been fit since last Monday's run, and that man's hack wasn't as it should be. A muttered curse might have been heard from one gentleman as he was told, on jumping from the box, that Harry Stubbings hadn't sent him any second horse to ride. "I didn't hear nothing about it till yesterday, Captain," said Harry Stubbings, "and every foot I had fit to come out was bespoke." The groom, however, who heard this was quite aware that Mr. Stubbings did not wish to give unlimited credit to the Captain, and he knew also that the second horse was to have carried his master the whole day, as the animal which was brought to the meet had been ridden hard on the previous Wednesday. At all this the Senator looked with curious eyes, thinking that he had never in his life seen brought together a set of more useless human beings.

      "That is Lord Rufford," said Morton, pointing to a stout, ruddy-faced, handsome man of about thirty, who was the owner of the carriage.

      "Oh, a lord. Do the lords hunt generally?"

      "That's as they like it."

      "Senators with us wouldn't have time for that," said the Senator.

      "But you are paid to do your work."

      "Everybody from whom work is expected should be paid. Then the work will be done, or those who pay will know the reason why."

      "I must speak to Lord Rufford," said Morton. "If you'll come with me, I'll introduce you." The Senator followed willingly enough and the introduction was made while his lordship was still standing by his horse. The two men had known each other in London, and it was natural that Morton, as owner of the ground, should come out and speak to the only man who knew him. It soon was spread about that the gentleman talking to Lord Rufford was John Morton, and many who lived in the county came up to shake hands with him. To some of these the Senator was introduced and the conversation for a few minutes seemed to interrupt the business on hand. "I am sorry you should be on foot, Mr. Gotobed," said the lord.

      "And I am sorry that I cannot mount him," said Mr. Morton.

      "We can soon get over that difficulty if he will allow me to offer him a horse."

      The Senator looked as though he would almost like it, but he didn't quite like it. "Perhaps your horse might kick me off, my lord."

      "I can't answer for that; but he isn't given to kicking, and there he is, if you'll get on him." But the Senator felt that the exhibition would suit neither his age nor position, and refused.

      "We'd better be moving," said Captain Glomax. "I suppose, Lord Rufford, we might as well trot over to Dillsborough Wood at once. I saw Bean as I came along and he seemed to wish we should draw the wood first." Then there was a little whispering between his lordship and the Master and Tony Tuppett. His lordship thought that as Mr. Morton was there the hounds might as well be run through the Bragton spinnies. Tony made a wry face and shook his head. He knew that though the Old Kennels might be a very good place for meeting there was no chance of finding a fox at Bragton. And Captain Glomax, who, being an itinerary master, had no respect whatever for a country gentleman who didn't preserve, also made a long face and also shook his head. But Lord Rufford, who knew the wisdom of reconciling a newcomer in the county to foxhunting, prevailed and the hounds and men were taken round a part of Bragton Park.

      "What 'd t' old squire 've said if he'd 've known there hadn't been a fox at Bragton for more nor ten year?" This remark was made by Tuppett to Mr. Runciman who was riding by him. Mr. Runciman replied that there was a great difference in people. "You may say that, Mr. Runciman. It's all changes. His lordship's father couldn't bear the sight of a hound nor a horse and saddle. Well;—I suppose I needn't gammon any furder. We'll just trot across to the wood at once."

      "They haven't begun yet as far as I can see," said Mr. Gotobed standing up in the carriage.

      "They haven't found as yet," replied Morton.

      "They must go on till they find a fox? They never bring him with them?" Then there was an explanation as to bagged foxes, Morton not being very conversant with the subject he had to explain. "And if they shouldn't find one all day?"

      "Then it'll be a blank."

      "And these hundred gentlemen will go home quite satisfied with themselves?"

      "No;—they'll go home quite dissatisfied."

      "And have paid their money and given their time for nothing? Do you know it doesn't seem to me the most heart-stirring thing in the world. Don't they ride faster than that?" At this moment Tony with the hounds at his heels was trotting across the park at a huntsman's usual pace from covert to covert. The Senator was certainly ungracious. Nothing that he saw produced from him a single word expressive of satisfaction.

      Less than a mile brought them to the gate and road leading up to Chowton Farm. They passed close by Larry Twentyman's door, and not a few, though it was not yet more than half-past eleven, stopped to have a glass of Larry's beer. When the hounds were in the neighbourhood Larry's beer was always ready. But Tony and his attendants trotted by with eyes averted, as though no thought of beer was in their minds. Nothing had been done, and a huntsman is not entitled to beer till he has found a fox. Captain Glomax followed with Lord Rufford and a host of others. There was plenty of way here for carriages, and half a dozen vehicles passed through Larry's farmyard. Immediately behind the house was a meadow, and at the bottom of the meadow a stubble field, next to which was the ditch and bank which formed the bounds of Dillsborough Wood. Just at this side of the gate leading into the stubble-field there was already a concourse of people when Tony arrived near it with the hounds, and