Ah, sir,' continued Mr.Bragg, with a shake of his head, 'take my word for it, sir, there's nothin' like a professional.

S-c-e-u-s-e me, sir,' added he, with a low bow and a sort of military salute of his hat; 'but dim all gen'l'men 'untsmen, say I.' Mr.Bragg had talked himself into several good places.

Lord Reynard's and the Duke of Downeybird's among others.

He had never been able to keep any beyond his third season, his sauce or his science being always greater than the sport he showed.

Still he kept up appearances, and was nothing daunted, it being a maxim of his that 'as one door closed another opened.' Mr.Puffington's was the door that now opened for him.
What greater humiliation can a free-born Briton be subjected to than paying a man eighty or a hundred pounds a year, and finding him house, coals, and candles, and perhaps a cow, to be his master?
Such was the case with poor Mr.Puffington, and such, we grieve to say, is the case with nine-tenths of the men who keep hounds; with all, indeed, save those who can hunt themselves, or who are blest with an aspiring whip, ready to step into the huntsman's boots if he seems inclined to put them off in the field.