' as
the elegant phraseology of servitude goes, he considered that Mr.
Puffington had nothing more to do with the hounds, and that any
interference in 'his department' was a piece of impertinence. Puffington
felt like a man who has bought a good horse, but which he finds on riding
is rather more of a horse than he likes. He had no doubt that Bragg was a
good man, but he thought he was rather more of a gentleman than he
required. On the other hand, Mr. Bragg's opinion of his master may be
gleaned from the following letter which he wrote to his successor, Mr.
Brick, at Lord Reynard's:

'HANBY HOUSE, SWILLINGFORD.

'DEAR BRICK,

'If your old man is done daffling with your draft, I should like to have
the pick of it. I'm with one Mr. Puffington, a city gent. His father was a
great confectioner in the Poultry, just by the Mansion House, and made his
money out of Lord Mares. I shall only stay with him till I can get myself
suited in the rank of life in which I have been accustomed to move; but in
the meantime I consider it necessary for my own credit to do things as they
should be. You know my sort of hound; good shoulders, deep chests, strong
loins, straight legs, round feet, with plenty of bone all over. I hate a
weedy animal; a small hound, light of bone, is only fit to hunt a kat in a
kitchen.

'I shall also want a couple of whips--not fellows like waiters from
_Crawley's_ hotel, but light, active _men_, not boys. I'll have nothin' to
do with boys; every boy requires a man to look arter him. No; a couple of
short, light, active men--say from five-and-twenty to thirty, with bow-legs
and good cheery voices, as nearly of the same make as you can find them. I
shall not give them large wage, you know; but they will have opportunities
of improving themselves under me, and qualifying themselves for high
places. But mind, they _must be steady_--I'll keep no unsteady servants;
the first act of drunkenness, with me, is the last.

'I shall also want a second horseman; and here I wouldn't mind a mute boy
who could keep his elbows down and never touch the curb; but he must be
bred in the line; a huntsman's second horseman is a critical article, and
the sporting world must not be put in mourning for Dick Bragg. The lad will
have to clean my boots, and wait at table when I have company--yourself,
for instance.

'This is only a poor, rough, ungentlemanly sort of shire, as far as I have
seen it; and however they got on with