DEERE STALKYNGE IN YE HYGHLANDES.
Monday, September 17, 1849.
Comes Mr. Gollope, and Mr. Goblestone, and Jenkyns, to dine with me off a Haunch of Venison, and Mr. Mc. Nab calling, I did make him stay Dinner too, and the Venison very fat and good; and Mr. Gollope did commend my Carving, whereof I was proud. Between them a Debate over our Dinner, as to whether the Red Deer or the Fallow Deer were the better Venison, and both Mr. Gollope and Mr. Goblestone do say the Fallow, but Mr. Mc. Nab will have it that the Red is by far the better, and do tell them they know nothing about the Matter, and never tasted Red Deer but such as had been mewed up in Richmond Park, which are mighty different from them that do browse in the Highlands on the Heather. He do say that Highland Deer-Stalking do excel every other Sport, from Tiger-Hunting to Fox-Hunting, which I mean to repeat to Mr. Corduroys to make him mad. Then he to describe the Manner of Stalking the Deer, and his Account thereof mighty taking, but, with his broad Scottish Accent and Phrases, droll; and good Lack, to hear him talk of Braes, and Burns, and Cairns, and Corries, rattling the R in every Word! He says that the Deer are the cunningest and the watchfullest, and can see, and hear, and smell at the greatest Distance of any Creature almost living, and do keep Spies to look out, and their Ears and Eyes always open and their Noses to the Wind, and do think and reason in their Minds like human Beings; which, methinks, is peculiar to the Scotch Deer. He says that the Sport is to fetch a Compass on them by Stratagem, so as to approach or drive them nigh enough to shoot them with a Rifle, and it do often take some Hours and several Miles, mostly crawling on the Hands and Knees, to get one Shot. He says that the Stalker and Hill-Keepers that wait on him must, to gain their Chance, dodge, stooping behind Crags, wriggle and creep over Flats and up Brooks like Snakes or Eels, clamber up and run down Precipices, and stride over Bogs, wherein they do sometimes sink plump up to the Middle; which should be rather Sport to the Stag than the Huntsman. But after all, the Deer shot dead, or wounded, and at Bay with the Hounds at his Throat, but despatched at last, and paunched, which he do call "gralloched," is such a Triumph that it do repay the Sportsman for all his Pains. He do say that what with the Grandeur of the Mountains, and the Freshness of the Air, the Spirits are raised beyond what we could imagine, and the Appetite also increased wonderfully; whereat Mr. Gollope did prick up his Ears. To conclude, he did declare that no one could know what Deer-Stalking was that had not tried it; but methinks I can, remembering how I used in my Youth to creep in Ditches and behind Hedges to shoot Larks.
A PROSPECT OF AN ELECTION.
Thursday, September 27, 1849.
Up, and by Railway with Mr. Wagstaffe to Guzzleford to my Cosin Peg her Wedding, and heard the Bells a ringing at 9 o'clock, the Marriage not to be till 11, but found they were rung for an Election; 'Squire Callow and Mr. Fairport standing for County Members in the Room of Mr. Brownjohn. So, the Wedding over, we about the Town to see the Fun. A Fellow the worse for Beer demanding whose Colours we wore, meaning our Wedding-Favours, Mr. Wagstaffe did pleasantly answer, Hymen's, whereupon the Fellow, crying "Callow for ever!" did rush full at us, but, we parting, slip between us and tumble headlong into the Mud. Good Lack! to see what Numbers of Ragamuffins everywhere with their Hats awry, Noses bleeding, or Eyes blacked, staggering under huge Placard Boards, whereon, in great Letters, "Callow and Agriculture," or, "Vote for Fairport and Commerce!" The Windows and Balconies full of Ladies, some pretty, to whom in my Wife's Absence I did kiss my Hand. But to think of the Ladies wearing the Colours of the Candidates, Blue and Yellow, but only for an Excuse to deck themselves out with Ribbons! In the Streets, Horsemen galloping to and fro, to tell the State of the Polls, and the Mob cheering and bantering them, mighty droll. 'Squire Callow did put up at the Barley-Mow, and Mr. Fairport at the Rising Sun, and between the two Inns, with a few plump rosy Farmers in Top-Boots, was a noisy Rabble, quarrelling and fighting, with Skins unwashed, and unshorn Muzzles, whom the Candidates' Committee-Men, speaking to them from the Windows, did call Free and Independent Electors. To some that harangued them, the Mob did cry, "Go Home," and "Who cheated his Washerwoman?" or, "How about the Workhouse Beef?" yet listened to a few that were familiar and cracked old Jokes with them. Presently they addressed by the Candidates in Turn; and nasty to see them pelt each Speaker with stale Eggs. But to hear, as well as might be for the Shouting and Hissing, 'Squire Callow promising the Farmers to restore the Corn Laws, and laying the Potato Blight and late Sickness to Free Trade; while Mr. Fairport did as loudly charge all the Woes and Grievances of the Country on the Landlords. By-and-by, Mr. Fairport, the Poll going so much against him, did give in, and then 'Squire Callow come forward, and make a brave Speech about our Glorious Institutions and the British Lion, and so away to have his Election declared, to the Town Hall, in a Carriage and Four, and the Rabblement after him. Then they left behind did set to on both Sides to fling Stones, and 'Squire Callow's Mob did break the Windows of the Rising Sun, and Mr. Fairport's the Windows of the Barley-Mow; which the Townsmen did say would be good for the Glaziers, and Mr. Wagstaffe do observe that the Conservative 'Squire Callow hath destructive Constituents. What with Publicans, and Lawyers, and Damage, the Election will cost the Candidates £6000 or £7000 a-Piece, and to think what a good Motive one must have to become a Parliament-Man, that will spend so much Money for the Chance of a Seat.