You must know, Sir, I am very fond of hunting, and live in as fine a scenting country as any in the kingdom. The soil is pretty stiff, the leaps large and frequent, and a great deal of timber to get over. Now, Sir, my brown horse is a very capital hunter; and though he is slow, and I cannot absolutely ride over the hounds (indeed the country is so enclosed, that I do not see so much of them as I could wish), yet, in the end, he generally brings me in before the huntsman goes home with the dogs; so, thus far, I have no reason to complain. Now, Sir, my brown horse is a noble leaper, and never gave me a fall in his life in that way; but he has got an awkward trick (though he clears every thing with his fore legs in a capital stile), of leaving the other two on the wrong side of the fence; and if the gate or stile happens to be in a sound state, it is a work of time and trouble to get his hind legs over. He clears a ditch finely indeed, with two feet, but the others so constantly fall in, that it gives me a strange
