The Table book; . unting, and kept a pack of good hounds,and had them so well ordered and hunted^chiefly by his own skill and direction, thatthey exceeded all other hounds in Englandfor the pleasure and orderly hunting ofthem. A Huntsman. Mr. Woolford, a sporting gentleman, asremarkable for politeness in the held as forthe goodness of his fox-hounds, was oneevening thus addressed by his huntsman: An please your honour, sir, twirling hiscap and quid at the same time, I shouldbe glad to be excused going to-morrow toWoolford-wood, as I should hke to 9;o tosee my poor wife buried. lam sorry forthe
The Table book; . unting, and kept a pack of good hounds,and had them so well ordered and hunted^chiefly by his own skill and direction, thatthey exceeded all other hounds in Englandfor the pleasure and orderly hunting ofthem. A Huntsman. Mr. Woolford, a sporting gentleman, asremarkable for politeness in the held as forthe goodness of his fox-hounds, was oneevening thus addressed by his huntsman: An please your honour, sir, twirling hiscap and quid at the same time, I shouldbe glad to be excused going to-morrow toWoolford-wood, as I should hke to 9;o tosee my poor wife buried. lam sorry forthee, Tom, said his master, we can do oneday without thee: she was an excellentwife. On the following morning, how-ever, Tom was the first in the field. Hey-day ! quoth Mr. « did not I give youleave to see tne remains of your poor wifeinterred ? Yes, your honour, but Ithought as how we should have good sport,as it is a fine morning; so 1 desired oujDick, the dog-feeder, to see her earth<i 510 THE TABLE MY DESK. Fov the Table Book. Every one will agree with me, that thisis the favourite article of furniture, Everyone is fond of it as of an old friend—afaithful and trustworthy one—to whom hasbeen confided both joys and sorrows. It ismost likely the gift of some cherished, per-haps departed being, reminding us by itsgood qualities of the beloved giver. Wehave no scruple in committing our dearestsecrets to its faithful bosom—they are never divulged. The tenderest billet-doux, thekindest acknowledgments, the sweetestconfessions of a mistress—the cruellest ex-pressions and bitterest reprriaches of afriend lost to us for ever through the falseand malignant representations of an enemy?—or periiaps the youthful effusions of ourown brain, which we occasionally drawforth from the recesses of the most secretlycontrived pigeon-hole, and read over d laf^erobee, with a half blush (at our self-love)and a smile partly painful from revived Vol. III. 511 VL THE TABLE BOOK.
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