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No. 116.  Friday, July 13, 1711.  Budgell.

      ’...  Vocat ingenti clamore Cithoeron,
      Taygetique canes ...’

      Virg.

Those who have searched into human Nature observe that nothing so much shews the Nobleness of the Soul, as that its Felicity consists in Action.  Every Man has such an active Principle in him, that he will find out something to employ himself upon in whatever Place or State of Life he is posted.  I have heard of a Gentleman who was under close Confinement in the Bastile seven Years; during which Time he amused himself in scattering a few small Pins about his Chamber, gathering them up again, and placing them in different Figures on the Arm of a great Chair.  He often told his Friends afterwards, that unless he had found out this Piece of Exercise, he verily believed he should have lost his Senses.

After what has been said, I need not inform my Readers, that Sir ROGER, with whose Character I hope they are at present pretty well acquainted, has in his Youth gone through the whole Course of those rural Diversions which the Country abounds in; and which seem to be extreamly well suited to that laborious Industry a Man may observe here in a far greater Degree than in Towns and Cities.  I have before hinted at some of my Friend’s Exploits:  He has in his youthful Days taken forty Coveys of Partridges in a Season; and tired many a Salmon with a Line consisting but of a single Hair.  The constant Thanks and good Wishes of the Neighbourhood always attended him, on account of his remarkable Enmity towards Foxes; having destroyed more of those Vermin in one Year, than it was thought the whole Country could have produced.  Indeed the Knight does not scruple to own among his most intimate Friends that in order to establish his Reputation this Way, he has secretly sent for great Numbers of them out of other Counties, which he used to turn loose about the Country by Night, that he might the better signalize himself in their Destruction the next Day.  His Hunting-Horses were the finest and best managed in all these Parts:  His Tenants are still full of the Praises of a grey Stone-horse that unhappily staked himself several Years since, and was buried with great Solemnity in the Orchard.

Sir Roger, being at present too old for Fox-hunting, to keep himself in Action, has disposed of his Beagles and got a Pack of Stop-Hounds.  What these want in Speed, he endeavours to make amends for by the Deepness of their Mouths and the Variety of their Notes, which are suited in such manner to each other, that the whole Cry makes up a compleat Consort. [1] He is so nice in this Particular that a Gentleman having made him a Present of a very fine Hound the other Day, the Knight returned it by the Servant with a great many Expressions of Civility; but desired him to tell his Master, that the Dog he had sent was indeed a most excellent Base, but that at present he only wanted a Counter-Tenor.  Could I believe my Friend had ever read Shakespear, I should certainly conclude he had taken the Hint from Theseus in the Midsummer Night’s Dream. [2]