hunt foxes and make puns.

We were sitting on a five-barred gate one evening in his paddocks,
and while I was admiring the yearlings, which were of great beauty, I
suddenly saw looking over his left shoulder the most beautiful head of
a thoroughbred I ever beheld, with her nose quite close to his ear.

"Halloa, my beauty!" said he. "What, _Saltfish_, let me see if I've a
bit of sugar, eh, _Saltfish_?--sugar--is it?"

His hand dived into the capacious pocket of his shooting-coat and
brought out a piece of sugar, which he gave to the mare, and then
affectionately rubbed her nose.

"There, _Saltfish_--there you are; and now show us your heels."

I knew by his mentioning the mare's name so often that there was a pun
in it, so I waited without putting any question. After a while he said
(for he could contain his joke no longer),--

"Judge, do you know why I call her _Saltfish_?"

"Not the least idea," said I.

"Ha!" he explained, with a prodigious stare that almost shot his blue
globular eyes out of his head: "because she is such a capital mare for
a _fast day_! Ha, ha!"

Suddenly he stopped laughing from disappointment at my not seeing the
joke. He repeated it--"fast day, fast day"--then _glared at me_, and
his underlip fell. At last the old man tossed his head, and whipped
his boot with his crop. I have no doubt I deprived that man of a great
deal of happiness; for if anything is disappointing to a punster, it
is not seeing his joke. He had not done with me yet, however, and
before abandoning me as an incorrigible lunatic, asked if I would like
to see Naples.

"Naples! By all means, but not at this time of year."

"Oh, I don't mean the town--no, no; but if you don't mind a little
mud, I'll show you Naples. Come along this lane."

"Watercourse, you mean. I don't mind a little mud," said I; "it washes
off, whoever throws it"--and I looked to see what he thought of that,
knowing he would tell it at dinner.

"Good!" said he; "devilish good! Wash off, no matter who throws
it--devilish good!"

Down we came off the gate, and through the mud we went, he leading
with a fat chuckle.

"You don't see the joke, Hawkins--you don't see the joke about that
fast day;" and he gave me another look with his great blue eyes.

I didn't know it was a joke; I thought it was the mare's name, and I
heard him mutter "Damn!"

"This is the way," he said angrily. We seemed to travel through an
interminable cesspool, but at last re