On his reaching the second age of manthat is to say, when he was but seven years old-he was sent with his satchel and shining morning face' to Eton, where, on his arrival, he found himself the youngest boy in the school. Before his death, Lord Alford, Lord Hope- | reply would have been, 'If you please, toun, Lord Southampton, and, since his Ma'am, he has just thrown up a large pin,' decease, Lord Stamford, who keeps seventy which, unperceived, he had managed to horses, have come forward to bestow upon swallow. the hunting counties around them the same noble and munificent assistance which, on a smaller scale, is as liberally given in many other localities; and yet, without one minute item, the sum total of the enjoyment, the recreation, the health, the good fellowship, the hard riding, the enormous sums of money distributed over the United Kingdom to maintain that ancient, royal, loyal, noble, and national sport which seriatim we have endeavoured to describe would suddenly be annihilated, were we but to lose that tiny unclean beast, that dishonest little miscreant that everybody abuses-THE FOX. Ille Jacet. But the scene suddenly shifts--a small cracked bell in a violent hurry rings a slight shuffling of a few running-away feet is heard the green curtain which scarcely half a minute ago had dropped slowly rises —and in the centre of the little stage there now appears reposing by itself, a white wicker cradle containing a new-born baby, who will rapidly grow before our readers into a character intimately connected with the sayings and doings, the scenes and incidents we are endeavouring to describe. Thomas Assheton Smith, born in Queen Anne Street, Cavendish Square, London, on the 2nd of August, 1776, was the grandson of Thomas Assheton, Esq., of Ashley Hall, near Bowden, in Cheshire, who assumed the name of Smith on the death of his uncle, Captain William Smith, son of the Right Honourable John Smith, Speaker of the House of Commons in the first two Parliaments of Queen Anne, and Chancellor of the Exchequer in the preceding reign. As Shakspeare, in his immortal history of the Seven Ages of Man, briefly described the first as the infant, mewling, &c., in its nurse's arms,' so of the childhood of Tom Smith the only occurrence we are enabled to record is that his mother, one day, found him lying on his nurse's lap, gasping like a tench just landed from a pond. 'What's the matter with the child?' she eagerly inquired. Nothin,' replied the calm nurse; doing nicely? he's As regarded the present tense, this answer was the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Had, however, the question been 'What has been the matter with him?' with the same grammatical accuracy the The busy hive of the United Kingdom, we all know, is divided into cells, in each of which, at this moment, a raw material is being converted by labour into some particular description of manufactured goods. In one cell, a Minister of State is concocting, from crude evidence, a speech, a budget, or a despatch. In another cell, a young woman, with a protuberant cushion on her lap, covered by an intricate pattern, marked by pins with heads of various colours, is as indefatigably labouring for the welfare of her country by twirling, twisting, and twiddling innumerable bobbins of fine thread into Honiton lace. In other cells, workpeople are converting broadcloth into clothes, leather into shoes, horsehair into wigs, medicine into pills, lead into bullets, brass and tin into cannon, iron into rifles, alkali and grease into soap. Within what is called a scrap-mill,' by the power of steam, controlled by a single man, broken bolts, bars, nuts, nails, screwpins, &c., are made to revolve, until by rumbling, tumbling, rubbing, scrubbing, bruising, beating, hustling, and jostling each other, all are turned out clean and bright, fit to be welded together for any purpose that may be required. At Eton, by a similar process, about 600 boys of all sizes and shapes-red-haired, white-haired, black-haired; long-legged, shortlegged, bandy-legged; splay-footed, pigeontoed; proud, humble, noisy, silent, goodhumoured, spiteful, brave, timid, pale-faced, sallow-faced, freckled and rosy-cheeked, weak and strong, clever and stupid, pliable and pigheaded-yet all controlled by that unwritten, immutable, unperishable code of honour which, like a halo, has always illuminated their playground and their school, are hustled together on water, in water, under water, and out of water, until, when the door of their scrap-mill is opened-although their minds. and bodies are as dissimilar as ever-they all turn out polished gentlemen, prepared to encounter those hardships, dangers, vicissitudes, difficulties, and, above all, base temptations in life, which high-bred principles are so especially well adapted to resist. For eleven years Tom Smith remained at this school, where he acquired a taste for classical literature, which characterised him his honour!' replied the man, and thank him a thousand times.' When Tom Smith was at Eton, fighting had not cropped to the surface of a schoolfellow and friend who in after life, known by the name of WELLINGTON, greatly distinguished himself in this world by seeking and by gaining pitched battles. 'I suppose, Smith,' said the old Duke to him, one day, in London, 'you've done now with fighting?" Oh, yes,' replied Smith, then in his sixtieth year, I've quite given that up; but suddenly correcting himself, he added, 'I'll fight yet any man of my age. through life. Pope, Shakspeare, and Horace, from which he used to quote long passages, were his favourite authors; he could also, without pressure, spout out the whole of the Epistle of Eloisa to Abelard. But what reigned at the back of his head and in the citadel of his heart was an ardent love for athletic exercises of any description, especially for cricket and boating. He was also, throughout his whole life, affectionately attached to fighting; and Etonians, old and young, to this day, record, as one of the severest contests in the history of youthful pugilism, the desperate battle he fought with Jack Musters, a kindred spirit, of whom it At Chapmansford, when upwards of has been said that he could do seven things- seventy, a rough country fellow, before a namely: ride, fence, fight, swim, shoot, play large field of sportsmen, threw a stone at at cricket and at tennis-as well as any man one of the hounds of the old squire, who inin Europe. His pugilistic propensity, which stantly struck him with his hunting-whip. appeared so early, was conspicuous through-You daren't do that if you were off your out his life. While hunting in Leicestershire he was prevailed upon to stand for the borough of Nottingham. On proceeding to the poll, he found not only the town placarded with No foxhunting M.P.,' but a guy in a red coat, tailed by a fox's brush, burning in effigy of him before the hustings. His appearance there elicited tremendous yells and hootings, which apparently no authority could subdue, until, with a stentorian voice, heard above the uproar, Tom Smith exclaimed, 'Gentlemen! as you refuse to hear my political principles, be so kind as to listen to these few words: I'll fight any man among ye, little or big, and will have a round with him now for love!' In an instant, as if by magic, yells and groans were converted into rounds of cheers, demonstrating the strange stuff, be it good, bad, or indifferent, that Englishmen are made of. horse,' said the man. The words were hardly out of the clod-hopper's mouth when (in the seventh age of man) Smith stood before him, with a pair of fists clenched in his face, and in so pugilistic an attitude that the fellow took to his heels, and, amidst the jeers of his comrades, ran away. In 1794 Tom Smith quitted Eton, to become a gentleman commoner at Christ Church, Oxford, where, with great diligence and assiduity, he hunted regularly in Oxfordshire and Northamptonshire, became a fearless swimmer,-learnt to pull a sturdy oar on the Isis, was a good shot and billiard-player, and excelled as a batsman in the cricket field on Cowley Marsh and Bullingdon. On leaving the University he became a member of the Marylebone Club and a regular attendant at Lord's during the summer; he was also a member of the Royal Yacht Club.* autumn, winter, and spring, he instinctively went to the dogs,' or, as in sporting phraseology it is termed, took to hunting,' so eagerly, that in 1800, when only twenty-four years old, he was signalized in song as a daring rider in that celebrated run from Billesdon Coplow, in which but four gentlemen, with Jack Raven the Whip, were able to live On another occasion, while riding down the Gallowtree Gate, in Leicester, he struck the horse of a coal-heaver, who, in return, cut him sharply across the face. Smith jumped immediately from his horse, and the higgler from his cart, the latter doffing his smock frock, the former buttoning his coat and turning up his sleeves. The eonflict was desperate; and from a fellow weighing four-with the hounds. teen stone, and standing six feet high, he was receiving severe punishment, when, by constables and a crowd of people, the combatants were separated. You shall hear from me again!' said Smith to his gallant smutty antagonist. True to his word, the next morning the squire's groom was seen inquiring where the coal-heaver lived. On finding the man, whose face, like his master's, had received some heavy bruises, he said to him, Mr. Smith has sent me to give you this sovereign, and to tell you you're the best man that ever stood before him.' 'God bless In In 1806 he succeeded Lord Foley at Quorn, and for ten years hunted Leicestershire with first-rate hounds, for a portion of which he had paid to Mr. Musters 1000 guineas, until, in 1816, he took the place of Mr. Osbaldiston in Lincolnshire, where he hunted the Burton * Mr. Smith's love for science and shipbuilding induced him to build several sailing and steam yachts. He considered himself to be the practical originator of the wave line, and, by the advice of the Duke of Wellington, he submitted to the First Lord of the Admiralty some important hints for improving the construction of gunboats. country for eight years. He then, ceasing for two years to be a master of hounds, hunted with the Duke of Rutland and in the neighbouring counties until 1826, when, taking up his residence at Penton Lodge, he created for himself a new country between Andover and Salisbury. In 1830-two years after the death of his father, from whom he inherited a very large fortune-he removed to Tedworth, which he had lately rebuilt with magnificent kennels, and stables in which every hunter had a loose box. In these stables he had often as many as fifty horses, all in first-rate condition. For thirty-two years he hunted the Tedworth country without ever asking for subscriptions of any sort or kind. All he begged of the landowners and of those who hunted with him was to preserve foxes to enable him to kill them. At his meets his friend and guest the late Duke of Wellington often attended. In stature he was about 5 feet 10 inches high, athletic, well-proportioned, muscular, but slight. His weight was between ten and eleven stone. With a highly-intelligent but resolute countenance, containing (as was observed of it) 'a dash of the bulldog,' he had plain features. That fellow Jack Musters, Tom Smith used to say, spoilt мY beauty. For several years, though his name was seldom found in the debates, he represented in Parliament Carnarvonshire and Andover; and in 1832, in consequence of the riots which took place in that year, he raised, at his own expense, a corps of yeoman cavalry, reviewed by the Duke of Wellington, the troopers of which were chiefly his own tenants or farmers of the neighbourhood. For upwards of fifty seasons he continued to be the master of hounds, until, after having been in his saddle for seventy years, the boy who in 1783 went to Eton when he was seven years old, died at Vaenol on the 9th of September, 1858, aged eighty-two. At the earnest request of his widow, Sir John E. Eardley Wilmot (assisted by the editor of the Field' newspaper), with considerable spirit and ability, has just compiled a series of graphic incidents and sketches, forming altogether a memoir-or, as he terms them, Reminiscences—of the life of one whom Napoleon I. addressed as 'le premier chasseur d'Angleterre,' and who was called by the Parisians le grand chasseur SMIT. From this volume we shall now submit to our readers a few extracts. 'Lord Foley,' wrote "Nimrod," was succeeded in the possession of the Quorn hounds by that most conspicuous sportsman of modern times, Thomas Assheton Smith. As combining the character of a skilful sportsman with that of a desperate horseman, perhaps his parallel is not to be found; and his name will be handed down to posterity as a specimen of enthusiastic zeal in one individual pursuit, very rarely equalled. From the first day of the season to the last he fellow over a country, and unquestionably poswas always the same man, the same desperate sessing, on every occasion and at every hour of the day, the most bulldog nerve ever exhibited in the saddle. His motto was, "I'll be with my hounds;" and all those who have seen him in the field must acknowledge he made no vain and no wonder, for he rode at places which he boast of his prowess. His falls were countless; knew no horse could leap over; but his object was to get, one way or the other, into the field with his hounds. As a horseman, however, he has ever been superexcellent. He sits in his saddle as if he were part of his horse, and his seat displays vast power over his frame. In addition to his power his hand is equal to Chifney's, and the advantage he experiences from it may be gleaned from the following expression. cal, always a difficult, but at that time a more Being seen one day hunting his hounds on Radithan commonly difficult, horse to ride, he was asked by a friend why he did not put a martingale on him, to give him more power over his mouth. "Thank ye," he replied, "but my left hand shall be my martingale.” › His fame and success in Lincolnshire were as great as at Quorn. The Melton men followed him, knowing they were sure of good sport wherever he went, although scarcely one of them was quite prepared for the formidable drains or dykes in the Burton Hunt. Shortly after their arrival there, they found a fox near the kennels that crossed a dyke called the Tilla. Tom Smith, the only one who rode at it, got in, but over, leaving behind him fourteen of the Meltonians floundering in the water at the same time, which so cooled their ardour that, excepting Sir H. Goodricke, gallant David Baird, and one or two others, they soon returned to Melton. Mr. Delmé Ratcliffe, in his work on the Noble Science of Fox-hunting,' describes Tom Smith as follows: for the rising generation of sportsmen..... He 'I could nowhere find a more fitting model was an instance of the very rare union of coolness and consummate skill as a huntsman, combined with the impetuosity of a most desperate rider; and not only was he the most determined of all riders, but equally remarkable as a horse man. opinion of Mr. Thomas Assheton Smith, as a Now I am not going to give merely my own horseman and rider to hounds, but shall lay before my readers that of all the sporting world, at least all who have seen him in the field; which is, that, taking him from the first day's hunting of the season to the last, place him on the best horse in his stable or on the worst, he is sure to be with his hounds, and close to them, too. In fact, he has undoubtedly proved himself the best and hardest rider England ever saw, and it would be vain in any man to dispute his title to that character.' Again, says Mr. Apperley 'Let us look at him in his saddle. Does he not look like a workman? Observe how lightly he sits! No one could suppose him to be a twelve-stone man. And what a firm hand he has on his horses! How well he puts them at their fences, and what chances he gives them to extricate themselves from any scrape they may have gotten into. He never hurries them then; no man ever saw Tom Smith ride fast at his fences, at least at large ones (brooks excepted), let the pace be what it may; and what a treat it is to see him jump water! His falls, to be sure, have been innumerable; but what very hard-riding man does not get falls? Hundreds of Mr. Smith's falls may be accounted for: he has measured his horse's pluck by his own, and ridden at hundreds of non-feasible places, with the chance of getting over them somehow.' Again: No man,' says Dick Christian, 'that ever came into Leicestershire could beat Mr. Smith, I do not care what any of them say;' while 'The Druid,' in 'Silk and Scarlet,' after giving some very interesting anecdotes of Tom Smith, says of him,' However hasty in temper and action he might be in the field or on the flags, he was the mightiest hunter that ever "rode across Belvoir's sweet vale" or wore a horn at his saddle-bow.' 'His wonderful influence,' he adds, over his hunters was strongly exemplified at another time, but in rather a different manner. He had mounted a friend, who complained of having nothing to ride, on his celebrated horse Cicero. The hounds were running breast-high across the big pasture lands of Leicestershire, and Cicero was carrying his rider like a bird, when a strong flight of rails had almost too ugly an aspect of height, strength, and newness, for the liking of our friend on his "mount." The keen eye of Assheton Smith, as he rode beside him, at once discerned that he had no relish for the timber, and seeing that he was likely to make the horse refuse, he cried out, "Come up, Cicero !" His well-known voice had at once the desired effect, but Cicero's rider, by whom the performance was not intended, left his "seat" vacant, fortunately without any other result than a roll upon the grass.' 'I have said,' remarks Nimrod, that Mr. Smith's make and shape, together with a fine bridle-hand, have assisted him in rising to perfection as a horseman." 'I once saw,' relates a friend, 'a fine specimen of Mr. Smith's hand and nerve in the going off of a frost, when the bone was not quite out of the ground. We were running a fox hard over Salisbury Plain, when all at once his horse came on a treacherous flat, greasy at top, as sportsmen say, but hard and slippery underneath. The horse he rode was a hard puller, and very violent, named Piccadilly; and the least check from the bridle, when the animal began to blunder, would have to a certainty made him slip up. Here the fine riding of the squire shone conspicuously. He left his horse entirely alone, as if he were swimming; and after floundering about and swerving for at least a hundred yards, Piccadilly recovered himself, and went on as if nothing had happened. 'At the end of a desperate run, he once charged the river Welland, which divides the counties of Leicester, Northampton, and Rutland, and is said to be altogether impracticable. The knack he had of getting across water is to be attributed to his resolute way of riding to hounds, by which his horses knew that it was in vain to refuse whatever he might put them at.' 'In falling,' says Sir J. Eardley Wilmot, he The always contrived to fall clear of his horse. bridle-rein, which fell as lightly as breeze of zephyr on his horse's neck, was then held as in a vice. In some instances, with horses whom he knew well, he would ride for a fall, where he knew it was not possible for him to clear a fence. With Jack-o'-Lantern he was often known to venture on this experiment, and he frequently said there was not a field in Leicestershire in which he had not had a fall. "I never see you in the Harborough country," he observed to a gentleman who occasionally hunted with the Quorn. "I don't much like your Harborough country," replied the other, "the fences are so large." "Oh!" observed Mr. Smith, fall." To a young supporter of his pack, who "there is no place you cannot get over with a was constantly falling and hurting himself, he said, "All who profess to ride should know how to fall." replied Smith, who, after several falls, killing his fox, was presented with the animal, which he accordingly named 'Gift.' The history of the education of Smith's favourite horse, Jack-o'-Lantern, is described as follows: next Thursday." Young Dyson had many a run afterwards out of the squire's stables, for his performances in the field pleased as much as those in the pulpit. "Why, sir," said Dick Burton, throwing a keen glance down the inquirer's person, "they are preaching his funeral sermon." with a sinking fox, a person clad in a long black 'Once, when the hounds were running short coat, with a very missionary look about him, and evidently thinking scorn of the fun, inquir'We were riding,' said Tom Edge, to co-ed of the Whip what the dogs were then doing. vert through a line of bridle-gates, when we came to a new double oaken post and rail fence. "This is just the place to make my colt a good timber jumper," said the squire, "so you shut the gate, and ride away fast." This was no sooner done than the squire rode at the rails, which Jack taking with his breast, gave both himself and his rider such a fall, that their respective heads were looking towards the fence they had ridden at. Up rose both at the same time, as if nothing very particular had happened. "Now," said Tom Smith, "this will be the making of the horse; just do as you did before, and ride away." Edge did so, and Jack flew the rails without touching, and from that day was a first-rate timber fencer." Only on two occasions, while hunting, did Tom Smith succeed in breaking a bone. Once at Melton, when he consoled himself by learning arithmetic from the pretty damsel at the post-office; and afterwards, when one of his ribs was fractured, owing, as he said, to his having a knife in his breast-pocket : And yet,' says Sir J. Eardley Wilmot, 'notwithstanding the gallant manner in which he always rode, never turning from any fence that intervened between him and his hounds, he never had a horse drop dead under him, or die from the effects of a severe day's riding. It is also a fact well recorded that he was never known to strike a horse unfairly. "How is it," asked a friend, "that horses and hounds seem never to provoke you?" "They are brutes, and know no better, but men do," was the reply.' 6 The most extraordinary hunter in his stable, Ayston,' was pigeon-toed, and so bad a hack, that he had to be led to covert; and yet at no time would his master have taken a thousand guineas for him. After the famous Billesden Coplow run, in which Tom Smith maintained so prominent a place, he sold the horse he that day rode, called Furze-cutter, for which he had given 267., to Lord Clonbrock for 4007. The Rev. Francis Dyson, now rector of Creeklande, after being ordained, in order to obtain a title to orders, was appointed to assist his father, the clergyman at Ted worth : 'Mr. Smith,' says Sir J. Eardley Wilmot, 'was so pleased with his first sermon, that, on coming out of church, he slapped the young curate on the back, and said, "Well done, Frank! you shall have a mount on Rory O'More In 1840 Tom Smith proposed to pay a visit to his old friend Sir Richard Sutton, whose hunting had been stopped by a severe accident. On hearing of this movement, Mr. Greene of Rolleston, who had been one of his best pupils in his Leicestershire days, requested him, in his way to Lincolnshire, to bring his hounds once more into his old country, Mr. Hodgson, who then hunted Leicestershire, having handsomely placed the best meet at his disposal. The veteran, for he was then sixty-four, accepted the challenge, bringing with him eighteen couples of his finest hounds, of great substance, open-chested, and in splendid condition. Wilmot, to endeavour to commemorate the It would be vain,' writes Sir J. Eardley scene which took place when Tom Sinith, surrounded by his hounds, met the field at Shankton Holt on Friday, the 20th of March. More than two thousand horsemen, one-third of whom appeared in pink, were assembled. Men of the highest birth and station, men who had served their country with deeds of most during gallantry by sea and land, men who in political or social life were the most brilliant in repute, thronged to do honour to the first fox-hunter of the day. They had come from remote counties, and more were pouring in along the grassy slopes and vales, or skirting the well-known gorse covers. Ás Dick Christian remarked, the first lot were at Shankton Holt when the tail end wern't out of Rolleston gates." Cold must have been the heart of him who could behold without joyous emotion the crowds of greyheaded horsemen hurrying forward to shake hands with their old friend and fellow-sportsman, each calling vividly to memory some scene where he had acted the most conspicuous part. More than twenty years had rolled away since he had resigned the lead in that magnificent country. There had been splendid riders since his day; and while time had thinned the ranks ed or were achieving fame-Frank Holyoake, of the veterans, younger men had either achievnow Sir Francis Goodricke, well known for his splendid feats on Brilliant, Colonel Lowther, Lord Wilton, Lord Archibald Seymour, George Payne, Little Gilmour,* Lord Gardner, George Anson, and a host of sportsmen, well deserving the reputation they had won, yet all strangers to the doings of this hero of the Quorn, except * Like William of Deloraine, 'good at need' |