294- THE " GOINGS ON" AT BRAMSBY HALL. 



crossed by a tailor. His reverted eye, the backward prick of his 

 ears, and a certain fretful swishing of his tail spoke the devil within ; 

 but these ominous signs were all unnoticed by the luckless Le Grange. 

 All was well as far as the cover ; so confident, indeed, was Mr. Le 

 Grange in the tameness of his beast, that he ventured once or twice 

 to touch him with his whip, and complained to Bessy in the pride of 

 his heart of being mounted on a mere rip. Scarcely were the dogs 

 well in the cover, when a loud and triumphant burst from all the 

 pack told us that Reynard was found. In a moment Gunpowder was 

 himself again ; with one toss of his head he jerked the bridle from his 

 rider's hand ; the bit he took between his teeth, and away like the 

 wind he went, leaving the rest of the field far in the rear. 



" Stop him ! stop him ! he's running away !" screamed Mr. Le 

 Grange, in a voice of agony. It was no use no one heeded him. 

 Away went Gunpowder, up the fallow, down the brake, over gate 

 and wall, through briar and bog. Well did he keep the lead during 

 the whole of that important day. A wood, which the prudent 

 rode round, but which Mr. Le Grange dashed through, at length 

 took him from our view. Once after was Gunpowder seen by a 

 shepherd's lad, plunging at the same fearful rate down the side of a 

 precipice Mr. Le Grange on his neck still, screaming forth in 

 piteous accents, " Stop him ! stop him ! he's running away!" After 

 four hours' hard running, we killed almost at the door of Bramsby Hall. 

 Gunpowder was the only horse in at the death Gunpowder, but not 

 Mr. Le Grange. The only trace of that unfortunate gentleman was 

 a wet shoe, which dangled loosely in the stirrup, much as it had done 

 when on the owner's foot. Questions were asked, and conjectures 

 hazarded, to no purpose : no clue was afforded to the fate of the 

 poet. The news of the poor knight's overthrow had reached Bramsby 

 before us, and I was assaulted at the door of the hall by a hail-storm 

 of abuse from my aunt, such as her education amply supplied her 

 with. The pleasing appellations of rogue, villain, coward, murderer, 

 fell so thick about my bewildered ears, that I absolutely lost my 

 breath. With my uncle I did not fare much better. He cursed me, 

 and himself for listening to me ; swore that I had murdered his wife s 

 relation, and deprived him of his peace of mind for ever. Rather 

 anxious to escape the tumult than disturbed about Le Grange's fate, 

 I took Joe with me, and proceeded to scour the country in search of 

 the fugitive. I mounted Gunpowder, thinking, with Joe, that he 

 was most likely to know what he had done with his rider. The old 

 horse had a peculiar track, and it was easy enough to make out the 

 course which he had taken in the morning ; indeed, he seemed to 

 know by instinct what business we were upon, and trotted con- 

 tentedly along through every turn of the hunt. After following on 

 for some miles, we came to a fence hanging over a precipitous ravine, 

 which the late rains had washed to an unusual depth. Here Gun- 

 powder made a halt ; and it was evident, from the deeply-indented 

 foot-marks, that at this point he had checked his headlong pace in 

 the morning. The boughs were bent and broken, as if by some one 

 clambering through the hedge ; and the print of a bare foot on the 

 clay convinced us that Gunpowder had here deposited his burthen, 



