he will say, "what nobler and sweeter beings it made them. What a
difference must there be, both in mind and body, between a joyous
high-spirited dame of those days, glowing with health and exercise,
freshened by every breeze that blows, seated loftily and gracefully on
her saddle, with plume on head, and hawk on hand, and her descendant of
the present day, the pale victim of routs and ball-rooms, sunk languidly
in one corner of an enervating carriage."

The squire's equestrian system has been attended with great success, for
his sons, having passed through the whole course of instruction without
breaking neck or limb, are now healthful, spirited, and active, and have
the true Englishman's love for a horse. If their manliness and frankness
are praised in their father's hearing, he quotes the old Persian maxim,
and says, they have been taught "to ride, to shoot, and to speak the
truth."

It is true the Oxonian has now and then practised the old gentleman's
doctrines a little in the extreme. He is a gay youngster, rather fonder
of his horse than his book, with a little dash of the dandy; though the
ladies all declare that he is "the flower of the flock." The first year
that he was sent to Oxford, he had a tutor appointed to overlook him, a
dry chip of the university. When he returned home in the vacation, the
squire made many inquiries about how he liked his college, his studies,
and his tutor. "Oh, as to my tutor, sir, I have parted with him some
time since." "You have; and, pray, why so?" "Oh, sir, hunting was all
the go at our college, and I was a little short of funds; so I
discharged my tutor, and took a horse, you know." "Ah, I was not aware
of that, Tom," said the squire, mildly.

When Tom returned to college his allowance was doubled, that he might be