Volume Ii Part 18 (1/2)
”'That is easily done,' he returned, drawing up a small table between us, with a bottle of claret on it, that sent its aroma all over the apartment as he drew the cork.
”'You know how I was served in London?' and his face a.s.sumed a hard, stern expression as he asked the question.
”'Well, yes,' I replied; 'but you have forgotten all that, Horace?'
”'I have not forgotten it. I never can forget it; it was a dreadful blow to me; but I have forgiven it years ago, and am content with my lot. I left London in disgust, wandered about, and at last found this little spot. I have the shooting of three thousand acres of land--ten acres for my two cows--I am as happy as possible. I breed lots of those,' pointing to his setters, who were lying about; 'and they pay me well. I have poultry, pigs, shooting--the woodc.o.c.k and snipe shooting is particularly good in the season--and fis.h.i.+ng in abundance; as good a cob as any man need possess; deny myself nothing in reason, and never know what a dull hour is. But you will sleep here, for I have already found out where you were, and sent for your things.'
”I never pa.s.sed a happier evening than I did with my long-lost friend; we smoked our cigars and talked of old times and old things that had happened years ago, pa.s.sed never to return again.
”'So your eldest boy is sixteen,' he remarked, after one of the pauses.
'Well, you must buy this place, Frederick, it is as cheap as dirt, and will pay you well. I will make your lads sportsmen--but I suppose you have done that yourself. I want companions now--no female ones,' he added, laughingly, 'your wife excepted; but some one to fish and shoot with me--the partridge-shooting is capital.'
”I was delighted with all I saw the next day; the place was lovely, and I was induced to spend a week with him. At the end of that time I was the purchaser of the property, and left to bring down my family and all my belongings.
”I have never regretted the step; though far away from the busy hum of the world, we are as happy as may be. Horace and I fish and shoot away; there is a calm quietness which I love. I, like my friend, have had some ups and downs in life, but the memory of them, in my country retreat, is gradually 'fading away.'”
It is all very well for men who have long purses and large possessions to take expensive shootings; they can afford it and why should they not? What might I not be tempted to do if I had the chance? I cannot say, and, therefore, I will not speculate.
To my young readers who are not _au fait_ at all these matters, I would urge them never to be too hasty in deciding on taking any shooting. If they are not in easy circ.u.mstances, they must go very cautiously to work; but that fair partridge and general shooting is to be had at a moderate figure I can prove.
It is not generally known, but there are many parts of Scotland where there is first-rate partridge-shooting, and arrangements can be made to have it after the grouse-shooters have done and returned to England. I know several men who have made this arrangement, and get their sport at a very moderate cost.
But gadding about to places is not my form. I prefer to remain on the spot, and then I can always see how matters are going on.
In taking a rough bit of shooting, only one keeper is necessary; one good man will do the work far better than half a dozen bad ones. It is, I admit, a difficult thing to get such a man, but they are to be had.
I have written this paper solely for the guidance of those whose means are limited; the rich can do as they like; money is often no object to them; but this I have known to be a fact, that the man who has only spent two or three hundreds, and often very much less, on his shooting has had far better sport than many of those who have spent thousands.
WHO IS TO RIDE HIM?
In a remote and lonely part of Dorsets.h.i.+re stood, in a beautifully-wooded park, a fine old mansion, Bradon Hall, belonging to George Bradon, Esq., who at the time I speak of was about eight-and-twenty.
He was one of the old school, as his father had been before him. Early in life he had been placed in a crack regiment of Dragoons, so he was not without a pretty good knowledge of the world for his age. Allowed a liberal sum by his father, he had never exceeded it; on the contrary, there was generally a fair balance at the end of the year in the hands of his agent.
He was a remarkably handsome young fellow. Bred up in the country, and left to do pretty nearly as he liked, it was not wonderful he turned out an adept at all sorts of sports.
A good cricketer, a still better fisherman, a magnificent shot, and not only the straightest but the best rider in the country; indeed riding was his forte. Not so with our late friend Artemus Ward at ”playing 'oss.” With all these sporting accomplishments he was much looked up to in his regiment, and it was said that the man who could live with George Bradon in any country for twenty minutes was A1 in the pigskin.
Two years previous to the time I am speaking of, he found himself master of Bradon Hall; his mother had gone many years before.
The first thing he did was to sell out and come home, where he had ever since resided. All the men in his regiment had the blues when he left.
”It was an infernal bore,” Captain Swagger remarked, ”to lose such a vewey fine fellaw as Bwadon; he should like to know who the devil could bwoo such a cwawat-cup as Bwadon?”
At any rate George left, taking with him a magnificent gold snuff-box, a present from his fellow-officers, ”which would be,” as the lieutenant-colonel said, ”a doocid nice thing to push about the dinner-table when he and his old friends of the regiment came down to hunt and shoot with him.”
Some of them had been true to their word, and paid him a visit now and then in the sporting season. George was delighted to see them; it put him in mind of old times, and he was always glad to know how matters were going on in his old corps.
His father had been a great breeder of horses, and as George was just as enthusiastically fond of them, the old blood had been kept up; and with the exception of a fine specimen of an old English gentleman, who used to be daily seen walking about in a blue coat with gilt b.u.t.tons, buckskins and tops, looking over his brood mares and colts, everything was the same as before. All the servants had been retained; they loved ”Master George” too well to quit, nor had they been asked to.