nd a few members of our sporting flock dotted the
paths at wide intervals.

That kind of thing goes on all over the country in the winter time. It
is not for me to preach, but I must say that it seems to be a barren
kind of game. Can any man of the crowd think kindly or clearly about any
subject under the sun? I fancy not. My own real idea of the character of
the various mobs that see the rabbits die is such that I could not
venture to frame it in words. The sport is so mean, so trivial, so
purposeless, that I should go a long way to avoid seeing it now that I
know the subject well.

And that unspeakably atrocious pettiness forms the only relaxation of a
very considerable number of Englishmen. If any member of a corporation
were to propose that a great hall should be opened free, and that good
music should be provided at the expense of the community, I suppose
there would be a deal of grumbling; but I am ready to prove that
expenses indirectly caused by our mad "sporting" would more than cover
the cost of a rational spell of pleasure.

Honourable gentlemen and worthy aldermen are allowing a great mass of
people to remain in a brutalised condition; those people only derive
pleasure from the suffering of dumb creatures.

How will it be if the callous crew take it into their heads at some or
other to show restiveness? Will they deal gently or thoughtfully with
those against whom their enmity is turned? Certainly their education by
no means tends to foster gentleness and thoughtfulness. If I were a
statesman instead of a Loafer, I reckon I should try might and main to
humanise those neglected folk--and they _are_ neglected--before they
teach some of us a terrific lesson.

I see that one "Walter Besant" has some capital notions concerning the
subject which I have ventured to touch on. If he were a rough--as I am
during much of my time--he would be able to talk more to the purpose.
Still, I deliberately say that that novelist, who is often treated as a
moony creature, is a very wise and practical statesman, and he has used
his opportunities well. If powerful people do not very soon pay heed to
his message, they will have reason for regret.

The worst of it is that one is constantly being forced to wonder whether
culture is of any use. For instance, on the day after the coursing, I
fell in with a smart lad who loafs about race meetings, and who
sometimes visits the landlord's parlour at the Chequers. He has been a
year