And the manly, and almost herculean form of the elder Beaufort, which, from the buoyancy of its movements, and the supple grace that belongs to the perfect mastership of any athletic art, possessed an elegance and dignity, especially on horseback, which rarely accompanies proportions equally sturdy and robust.

There was indeed something knightly and chivalrous in the bearing of the elder Beaufort--in his handsome aquiline features, the erectness of his mien, the very wave of his hand, as he spurred from the yard.
"What a fine-looking fellow my uncle is!" said Arthur, with involuntary admiration.
"Ay, an excellent life--amazingly strong!" returned the pale father, with a slight sigh.
"Philip," said Mr.Beaufort, as they cantered across the paddock, "I think the gate is too much for you.

I will just take Puppet over, and then we will open it for you." "Pooh, my dear father! you don't know how I'm improved!" And slackening the rein, and touching the side of his horse, the young rider darted forward and cleared the gate, which was of no common height, with an ease that extorted a loud "bravo" from the proud father.
"Now, Puppet," said Mr.Beaufort, spurring his own horse.

The animal cantered towards the gate, and then suddenly turned round with an impatient and angry snort.

"For shame, Puppet!--for shame, old boy!" said the sportsman, wheeling him again to the barrier.