HUNTS WITH JORROCKS 



'Hark together! hark! get forrard, hounds, 

 get forrard ! ' cried Mr. Jorrocks, cracking his pon- 

 derous whip at some lingerers that loitered on the 

 ride, questioning the correctness of their comrades' 

 cry. 'Get forrard, I say ! ' repeated he, with re- 

 doubled energy. * Confound your unbelievin' 

 souls ! ' added he, as they went to cry. ' Now they 

 are all on him again! Oh, beautiful, beautiful!' 

 exclaimed Mr. Jorrocks, in ecstasies. 'I'll lay 

 five punds to a fiddler's farthin' they kill him. 

 Mischief in their cry! a rare scent can wind 

 him myself.' So saying, he gathered up his reins 

 again, thrust his feet home in the stirrups, 

 crammed the spurs into his horse, and rolled back 

 on the ride he had just come up. ' Hark ! ' now 

 cried our master, pulling up short and holding his 

 hand in the air, as though he had a hundred and 

 fifty horsemen at his tail to check in their career. 

 * Hark ! ' again he exclaimed ; ' whoay, 'oss, whoay!' 

 trying to get Arterxerxes to stand still and let him 

 listen. * Now, fool, vot are you champing the bit 

 for? whoay, I say! He's turned short again! 



46 



