BOYISH DAYS;

WITH EARLY IMPRESSIONS OF THE OLD GOODWOOD HUNT, AND A BRIEF MEMOIR OF TOM GRANT, THE HUNTSMAN.

OBITUARY.-At Goodwood, aged eighty-seven, Mr. Grant, who had been whipper-in and huntsman to three Dukes of Richmond in

succession.

Poor old Tom, thou art gathered to thy fathers! How often, in the words of that excellent sportsman, poet, and singer, Campbell of Saddel, I may say—

such occasions.

"We have seen a run together;

We have ridden side by side:
It binds us to each other,
Like a lover to his bride.

"We have seen a run together,

When the hounds ran far and fast:
We have hearken'd by each other,
To the huntsman's cheering blast.

"How gay they bristled round him,
How gallantly they found him,
And how stealthily he wound him,

O'er each brake and woody dell."

There is an indescribably mournful pleasure in reverting to those "merry days—the merry days when we were young;" and we are old-fashioned enough, and, perhaps, unworldly enough, to have juvenile prejudices and strong associations spring up in our minds on The death of an associate of one's boyish days calls up from the heart many a kindly feeling, that has been from time to time imperceptibly stored there; past acts of attachment, bygone feelings of kindness, temporary matters of interest, all rise up, and come back to the memory in all the freshness of their first

impression:

"Ye dreams of my boyhood, how much I regret you;
Unfaded your memory dwells in my breast;
Though sad and deserted, I ne'er can forget you;
Your pleasures may still be in fancy possest."

Such impressions wake up in our hearts the recollection of early dreams of hopes gone by-of joys passed away for ever. Alas! for the brilliant imaginations of our youth; bright and beautiful as they are, they wither away. Associating, then, so much of this feeling as we do with the subject of this brief memoir, we trust we may be pardoned if we occasionally digress, in giving our early impressions connected with the old Goodwood Hunt, and its huntsman, Tom Grant. Never shall I forget my first meeting with Tom Grant, when, as a joyous urchin from Westminster School I went home for the Christmas holidays. Christmas, that inclement but hospitable season, when hospitality is more keenly and uninterruptedly enjoyed than ever;-the nipping frost without makes our roaring fires and kindly sympathies burn brighter within. Alas! the good old customs of our ancestors have experienced a greater decay than the venerable seats of feudal grandeur which they inhabited (though Goodwood, happily, is an exception to the rule). Christmas was revered, by all classes, not only as a season of solemn festival, but as one of jocund mirth. The crowded halls were enlivened with the busy hum of men; the "tables groaned beneath the smoking sirloin." But to return to our schooldays;—and here, as an episode, we must give the life of a "fag," at Westminster, during the period I allude to, 1810:-Winter morningup before day-break: first duty to "call" one's master, a labour often repaid by a slap of the face, or, in the classical tongue of the school, a "buckhorse:" light the fire, boil the kettle, clean a pair of "high-lows"-brush coat, &c.: fill the pitcher (a huge stone jug) at the pump, or, as it was facetiously called, the "one-armed lady," in Dean's Yard; no joke, on a cold, raw, frosty, winter morning: wait at one's master's door during the period he was adorning, which generally lasted until the welcome tidings came, that "Carey (the head master) was going in." In school for an hour: then breakfast; during which period we have known humane masters fag their fags to prepare their own breakfasts. School again till twelve; the holiday two hours, between morning and afternoon school, being often passed in being fagged to stand long-stop, or fagging out, at cricket. If a halfholiday, clean gloves, wash hair-brushes, pipe-clay cord and leather inexpressibles. At four o'clock, light fire; boil kettle; clean candlestick, knives and forks; prepare tea-things; run out to Tothillstreet, to purchase a pennyworth of milk, two pennyworth of butter, and a threepenny roll, with the occasional addition of a bloater, or a slice of beef cut with an hammy knife," for to give it a relish, as the purveyor of comestibles used to call it. Return: make tea-wash up tea-things prepare supper-a tuck out. fry sausages-dress sprats roast potatoes-toast cheese-make the punch: wages. lickings à discrétion, or, again to use Westminster phraseology, "more kicks than halfpence." We will pass over the school hours, their tediousness being occasionally enlivened by the agrément of drawing lots for a flogging, and finding one's self the "fortunate winner" of a prize of either " a hander or a three-cutter:" the former an application of birch on the hand, and not a very agreeable cure for chaps or warts, on a cold winter's morning; the latter, an application of birch elsewhere, and which made one envy the little cherub figures that supported the roof of the old school-" ALL HEADS AND WINGS."

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Nor will we dwell upon the tyranny that compelled one to assume the form of a human warming-pan for some cruel master, nor the ablution that was nightly made when the housekeeper, and her attendant nymphs, acted the parts of " Scrub," and with rough towels, the coldest water, yellow soap, and a scrubbing-brush that would have immortalized St. John Long, actually realized the old saying of turning some of the little blackamoors white; the amusements of the day usually terminating by being tossed in a blanket; or, being pulled out of bed, by having one's "feet fingers" (as a celebrated foreign countess designated her "toes") wired; or, being "turned up" in bed, which agreeable process was brought about by the bedstead assuming its morning form-" a bed by night, a chest of drawers by day;" and the inmate himself in an antipodean attitude, literally not knowing whether "he stood upon his head or upon his heels;" or, finding one's bed in "apple-pie order," unable to gain entrance for more than half a yard; or, having the bolster taken from under your head, and the bedding cut from beneath you, floundering on the floor-literally speaking-board and lodging, and, à la middy, pricking for a soft plank to rest your weary limbs upon. Such WAS Westminster: and yet, Westminster, "with all thy faults, I love thee still." I passed many a happy day there, at that worthiest of worthy dames, Mrs. Packharness':

"Ye scenes of my childhood, whose loved recollection
Embitters the present, compared with the past,-
Where science first dawned on the powers of reflection
And friendships were formed-too romantic to last."

There never were collected together such a number of light-hearted,
merry, high-spirited fellows;-and yet, some of the tricks we played
upon our dame still haunt my conscience to wit, getting on her blind
side, and thrusting our plate forward for a second "ration" of our
supper-meat, after we had just received it on the proper side; filling
a sponge with red ink, and one with Day and Martin, and gently
placing them in the laced boots that were to adorn the feet and
ankles of the kind-hearted dame ;-not to forget the sundry number
of detonating balls that were occasionally strewed upon the floor,
or placed upon her throne at the dinner and supper table, and which
rendered the act of sitting, a custom "more honoured in the breach
than in the observance" of it. Once, indeed, we remember that she was,
as Andrew Bang, the gamekeeper, says, in the play, unable to essayez
vous for some days. Dr. Carey, the present Bishop of St. Asaph, was
the best of masters. Poor Page, an honest, warm heart, under a rough
exterior. Smedley Dodd, of whom I may say, as Byron said of Dr.
Drury, was the best and worthiest friend I ever possessed; whose
warnings I have remembered but too well, though too late, when I
have erred; and whose counsels I have but followed when I have
done well or wisely ;-and here I have a pride, a pleasure, in acknow-
ledging, to him do I owe all that I know. I never think of him but
with gratitude and veneration; and should more gladly boast of having
been his pupil, if by more closely following his injunctions I could
reflect any honour upon my instructor. Campbell, Knox, Ellis, and,
"last, not least, in our estimation," Longlands. Then,
how few are left:

our form"

But whither are we wandering! We have strayed from the thread of our narrative. To return. It was early in the month of January, 18-, that, having just got my remove into the upper school, I found myself, for the first time, "dining down stairs," at one of " the stately homes of England." We will not stop to present to our readers the party who, on this occasion, surrounded the festive board. Alas! how many are gone to

"That undiscovered country, from whose bourne

No traveller returns."

Of the worthy host we have only to say,-need we say more?-that he was a genuine sample of the good olden time; a plain, honest, kind-hearted" English gentleman;" a stanch fox-hunter, and a leading member of the old Goodwood Hunt. Few of the celebrated Goodwood Hunt now remain ;

"of all the hearts

That beat with anxious life at sunset there,

How few survive, how few are beating now ;"

One

a hunt that was graced with the names of many of the fair sex. there still is, whose health, in the days we write of, was drank at every fox-hunter's table in the county, a thorough sportswoman— charmed with the music of the chase; of which she might well say— "a cry more tuneable

Was never hallooed to, or cheered with horn ;"

"and

one who was damped by no disappointment-checked by no difficulties terrified by no examples: superior to all sense of danger, she flew over hedge and ditch with amazing temerity, and gallantly followed the hounds after many stanch fox-hunters, and no contemptible sportsmen, had cried, "Hold, enough!" No county in England ever produced a finer horsewoman, or a better rider to hounds. "Bring another magnum of Sneyd" (for in those days Sneyd carried away the palm, as Cunningham does in ours), exclaimed the host of a party of ten, assembled round "the horseshoe mahogany," at Stephens put a little dash of cayenne on the next toasted biscuit." The well-trained butler withdrew, and speedily returned, brushing the cobwebs from the neck of a bottle, whose rotundity vied with the enormous paunch of its bearer. This primitive veteran was a fine specimen of a class of domestics, who, in the present days of innovation, will soon cease to exist. He had lived in the family nearly half a century, and looked with as much affection upon the members of it, as if they were his own relations. With a countenance beaming with good nature and cheerfulness, he proceeded to give fresh glasses, and carefully to uncork the bottle: the cork was drawn, and an odour, sweeter than as from "a bank of violets" stole into the air. The bottle went its round with unfailing regularity; every glass was charged to the brim. Our host's health was given amidst a tripple peal of shouts and acclamations. No oblation made by the priests of the jolly god

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could be performed with more ceremony, or inspire greater satisfaction; spirits rose with every bumper; every one felt a wonderful inclination to take a leading part in the conversation for Horace says, Fecundi calices quem non fecere disertum ?—(whom have not copious cups made eloquent?) The conversation turned upon the noble science," and a gallant run they had had on the previous day. Each fought his battles over again. Every minute incident was told and retold. One boasted that his horse had cleared a gate of six feet, with an awkward grip on the further side; another had taken a brook of greater extent than was ever taken before, thirty-three yards and a half; a third had left the whole field behind him. The "landlord's bottle" was now called for, and coffee ordered. "Ay! this is the genuine Sneyd the vintage of 18-, seven years in bottle,”—exclaimed a young kind-hearted descendant of Milesius, whose patronymic was always dropped for the soubriquet of" the Blazer,"-"it would make the very strictest Mussulman forswear his creed." At this moment Tom Grant was announced; and the noble host, presenting him with a bumper of port, (for Tom hated everything French,) rose, and said, "Let us drink, Tom Grant, and fox-hunting;' fill your glasses; hip, hip, hurrah!"- -"Tom Grant, and fox-hunting," echoed the party.

6

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"By my faith, Tom," cried the Blazer, "they could not shew us such a run as we had yesterday in ould Ireland, tho' it was only fiveand-forty minutes."-" Upon my life, these youngsters provoke me with their only's,' replied the warm-hearted huntsman ; only fiveand-forty minutes! In my young days, half the time was considered quite "entertainment enough for man and horse."-Tom was about to leave the room, when I ran forward and inquired after a favourite hound, called "Chanticleer," which had been ridden over on the previous day, by a young "middy," from Portsmouth, who, on the principle of the gallant Nelson, that "every man was expected to do his duty," did his, by riding at the fox, and leaving the hounds little to do themselves. 66 Thank ye, thank ye, Chanticleer's doing well," replied Grant, whose principle was, "Love me, love my dogs;" "but you'll be out to-morrow; sure find, the Valdoe." I pleaded many reasons; though the first would have struck most persons to be a sufficient one, namely, my having no horse. Tom looked sly, and then said, "Get on your boots, she's come, and if she an't fit, you shall ride Brown Bess, (a favourite pony of his). So set your mind at ease, and be at the kennel by eight." On my return to the table, I found that Tom's statement was perfectly correct. For some months I had urged an indulgent parent to allow me to bring down, for the Christmas holidays, a Westminster hack,-one that, on all high-days and holidays, was let out at ten shillings per diem, and who had been in and over every grip and ditch in the then famed Tothill Fields. The "Tilbury" of Westminster had been desired to send down "his best hunter" for the month; and a couple of days previous to the dinner above described, the animal had arrived, "thorough-bred, as Eclipse, by Whalebone, out of Tears; warranted sound, exceedingly handsome, free from vice, a fast galloper, and undeniable fencer ;" and which he had purchased expressly for the young gentleman! I will not attempt to describe my delight; I ran first to my sisters' room, to tell them the news; then to the housekeeper's-" may she live a thousand years,"

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