I was greatly surprised to hear them. I had seen Englishmen sensibly
roughing it in other places, but the lofty pride of these ten
rum-drinking gentlemen was quite a new experience to me.

Having spent a somewhat listless morning, I was invited to accompany
them to the house of Mr. Bingley, one of the Glorious Four. Mr. Bingley
was really a very nice young fellow, living in a house far more worthy
of the name than the slovenly _rancho_ tenanted by his neighbour
Winchcombe. He was the favourite of the colonists, having more money
than the others, and keeping two servants. Always on his reception-day
he provided his guests with hot bread and fresh butter, as well as
with the indispensable rum-bottle and teapot. It therefore happened
that, when his turn came round to keep open house, not one of the other
nine colonists was absent from his table.

Soon after our arrival at Bingley's the others began to appear, each
one on entering taking a seat at the hospitable board, and adding
another cloud to the dense volume of tobacco smoke obscuring the room.
There was a great deal of hilarious conversation; songs were sung, and
a vast amount of tea, rum, bread and butter, and tobacco consumed; but
it was a wearisome entertainment, and by the time it was over I felt
heartily sick of this kind of life.

Before separating, after "John Peel" had been sung with great
enthusiasm, someone proposed that we should get up a fox-hunt in real
English style. Everyone agreed, glad of anything, I suppose, to break
the monotony of such an existence, and next day we rode out, followed
by about twenty dogs, of various breeds and sizes, brought together
from all the houses. After some searching about in the most likely
places, we at length started a fox from a bed of dark-leafed