Lord, and know the country almost as well as the huntsman himself! And
what sons and grandsons and granddaughters are growing up round them,
on delightful ponies no gate, hedge, or brook can dismay--nothing but
the hard high-road!

It is a glorious, exhilarating scene, with the beautiful wintry
landscape stretching away to the cloudy November sky, and the lords
and ladies gay, and the hounds, and the frosty-faced, short-tempered
old huntsman, the very perfection of his kind; and the poor cockney
snobs on their hired screws, and the meek clod-hopping labourers
looking on excited and bewildered, happy for a moment at beholding so
much happiness in their betters.

[Illustration: ONE OF MR. BRIGG'S ADVENTURES IN THE HIGHLANDS

After aiming for a Quarter of and Hour Mr. B. fires both of his
Barrels--and--misses!!!! Tableau--The Forester's Anguish--_Punch_,
1861.]

To have seen these sketches of the hunting-field is to have been there
in person. It is almost the only hunting that I ever had--and probably
ever shall have--and I am almost content that it should be so! It is
so much easier and simpler to draw for _Punch_ than to drive across
country! And then, as a set-off to all this successful achievement,
this pride and pomp and circumstance of glorious sport, we have the
immortal and ever-beloved figure of Mr. Briggs, whom I look upon as
Leech's masterpiece--the example above all others of the most humorous
and good-natured satire that was ever penned or pencilled. The more
ridiculous he is the more we love him; he is more winning and
sympathetic than even Mr. Pickwick himself, and I almost think a