, below the Pass of the Brander, for one of those
giants that have immortalised the names of a Maule, a Goldie, and a
Wilson. Mercy on us, Shelty, what a beard! You cannot have been shaved
since Whitsunday--and never saw we such lengthy love-locks as those
dangling at your heels. But let us mount, old Surefoot--mulish in nought
but an inveterate aversion to all stumbling. And now for the heather!
But are you sure, gents, _that we are on_?

And has it come to this! Where is the grandson of the desert-born?

Thirty years ago, and thou Filho da Puta wert a flyer! A fencer beyond
compare! Dost thou remember how, for a cool five hundred, thou clearedst
yon canal in a style that rivalled that of the red-deer across the
chasms of Cairngorm? All we had to do was to hold hard and not ride over
the hounds, when running breast-high on the rear of Reynard the savage
pack wakened the welkin with the tumultuous hubbub of their death-cry,
and whipper-in and huntsman were flogging on their faltering flight in
vain through fields and forests flying behind thy heels that glanced
and glittered in the frosty sunshine. What steed like thee in all
Britain at a steeple-chase? Thy hoofs scorned the strong stubble, and
skimmed the deep fallows, in which all other horses--heavy there as
dragoons--seemed fetlock-bound, or laboured on in staggerings, soil-sunk
to the knees. Ditches dwindled beneath thy bounds, and rivulets were as
rills; or if in flood they rudely overran their banks, into the spate
plunged thy sixteen hands and a-half height, like a Polar monster
leaping from an iceberg into the sea, and then lifting up thy small head
and fine neck and high shoulder, like a Draco from the weltering waters,
with a few proud pawings to which the recovered greensward rang, thy
whole bold, bright-brown bulk reappeared on the bank, crested by old
Christopher, and after one short snorting pause, over the miry
meadows--tantivy!--tantivy!--away! away! away!

Oh! son of a Rep! were not those glorious days? But Time has laid his
finger on us both, Filho; and never more must we two be seen by the edge
of the cover,

"When first the hunter's startling horn is heard
Upon the golden hills."

'Tis the last learned and highest lesson of Wisdom, Filho, in man's
studious obedience to Nature's laws--_to know when to stop in his
career_. Pride, Passion, Pleasure, all urge him on; while Prudence,
Propriety, Peace, cry halt! halt! halt! That mandate we ha