Horace, meanwhile, looked superior down, and thought with ineffable contempt of Beauclerc’s little skill in the arts of conversation, thus upon unwilling ears to squander anecdotes which would have done him credit at some London dinner. “What I could have made of them! and may make of them yet,” thought he; “but some there are, who never can contrive, as other some cleverly do, to ride their hobby-horses to good purpose and good effect;--now Beauclerc’s hobbies, I plainly see, will always run away with him headlong, cost him dear certainly, and, may be, leave him in the mire at last.” What this fancy was to cost him, Beauclerc did not yet know. Two or three passages in the Sporting Magazine had given some hints of the expense of this “most delectable of all country contentments,” which he had not thought it necessary to read aloud. And he knew that the late Lord Orford, an ardent pursuer of this “royal and noble” sport, had expended one hundred a-year on every hawk he kept, each requiring a separate attendant, and being moreover indulged in an excursion to the Continent every season during moulting-time: but Beauclerc said to himself he had no notion of humouring his hawks to that degree; they should, aristocratic birds though they be, content themselves in England, and not pretend to “damn the climate like a lord.” And he flattered himself that he should be able to pursue his fancy more cheaply than any of his predecessors; but as he had promised his guardian that, after the indulgence granted him in the Beltravers’ cause, he would not call upon him for any more extraordinary supplies, he resolved, in case the expense exceeded his ways and means, to sell his hunters, and so indulge in a new love at the expense of an old one. The expected pleasure of the first day’s hawking was now bright in his imagination; the day was named, the weather promised well, and the German cadgers and trainers who had been engaged, and who, along with the whole establishment, were handed over to Beauclerc, were to come down to Clarendon Park, and Beauclerc was very happy teaching the merlins to sit on Lady Cecilia’s and on Miss Stanley’s wrist. Helen’s voice was found to be peculiarly agreeable to the hawk, who, as Beauclerc observed, loved, like Lear, that excellent thing in woman, a voice ever soft, gentle, and low.