For myself, if I found myself called upon to pay for one whistle
or the other, I would sooner be a master of hounds than a Lord
Mayor. The power is certainly more perfect, and the situation, I
think, more splendid. The master of hounds has no aldermen, no
common council, no liverymen. As long as he fairly performs his
part of the compact, he is altogether without control. He is not
unlike the captain of a man-of-war; but, unlike the captain of a
man-of-war, he carries no sailing orders. He is free to go where
he lists, and is hardly expected to tell any one whither he
goeth. He is enveloped in a mystery which, to the young, adds
greatly to his grandeur; and he is one of those who, in spite of
the democratic tenderness of the age, may still be said to go
about as a king among men. No one contradicts him. No one speaks
evil of him to his face; and men tremble when they have whispered
anything of some half-drawn covert, of some unstopped earth, some
fox that should not have escaped, and, looking round, see that
the master is within earshot. He is flattered, too, if that be of
any avail to him. How he is flattered ! What may be done in this
way to Lord Mayors by common councilmen who like Mansion-house
crumbs, I do not know; but kennel crumbs must be very sweet to a
large class of sportsmen. Indeed, they are so sweet that almost
every man will condescend to flatter the master of hounds. And
ladies too, all the pretty girls delight to be spoken to by the
master ! He needs no introduction, but is free to sip all the
sweets that come. Who will not kiss the toe of his boots, or
refuse to be blessed by the sunshine of his smile ?

But there are heavy duties, deep responsibilities, and much true
heart-felt anxiety to stand as makeweight against all these