In other ways, too, hunting was different—both horses, and hounds were heavier, and slower then; it was not the pace of the run that was discussed at night, but its length, and the behaviour of both hounds, and horses. Fox hunting began much earlier in the morning than it does now; and a good solid meal of cold meat, washed down with a tankard of home brewed, was vastly superior to a modern “lawn meet” breakfast, with its wines and liqueurs, to “steady the nerves,” to say nothing of the flask of “jumping powder.” Sport, too, was found much nearer the Metropolis then than now. _Morning Post_, August 14, 1805: “TO SPORTSMEN and others.—A Deputation to be granted of the very extensive Manors of _Hornsey_ and _Finchley_, in the County of Middlesex, with the liberty of Hunting and Shooting over, and upon, the said Manors, abounding with game,” &c. [Illustration: PERCH-FISHING—1804.] The Epping Hunt, too, where the citizens[54] annually met on Easter Monday, to vindicate their right to hunt in the Forest, was not the farce it afterwards became. Most men, then, were accustomed to horseback, and could manage to stick on somehow. Fishing and shooting were, of course, as popular as now. Of the former we have had little to learn since Isaac Walton’s time, and the illustration shows us that the “Contemplative Man,” in the early part of this century, knew how to combine his “Recreation” with the charms of female society. [Illustration: AFTER A DAY’S SHOOTING—1809.] Shooting, like hunting, was a totally different thing, in the first ten years of the century, to what it is now. There were no battues, no hot, and elaborate, luncheons, no being posted in “warm corners,” no army of beaters, no breech-loaders, and two attendants to load for you, and, at the end of a day’s sport, no waggon-loads of slain to be sent off to market to help pay, in some part, the expenses of breeding, and keeping, such a head of game. Then, a man went out, preferably with a friend or two, soon after an early breakfast, accompanied by Don and Ponto, who were his constant companions in his walks, and whose education he had personally superintended; to watch their intelligent movements was in itself one of the pleasures of the day. When a covey rose, not a shot was wasted, if possible, for, by the time the gun was reloaded, the birds would be far off. A bit of bread and cheese, as luncheon, at the nearest farmhouse, or the village pub.; if the former, a brace of birds, or a hare left, with a kindly message. Enough game to carry home, without being tired, plenty for the larder, and some for friends; then dinner, some punch—and Betty would come with the chamber candle and warming-pan, to find the party asleep and quite ready for bed.