HUNTS WITH JOEROCKS 



he now crams, up the field road, with the hounds 

 chirping merrily along on his right, through 

 turnips, oat stubble, winter beans, and plough. A 

 white farm onstead, Buckwheat Grange, with its 

 barking cur in a barrel, causes the fox to change 

 his course and slip down a broken but grassy 

 bank to the left. * Dash his impittance, but he 's 

 taken us into a most unmanageable country,' 

 observes Mr. Jorrocks, shading his eyes from the 

 now out-bursting sun with his hand as he trotted 

 on, eyeing the oft-occurring fences as he spoke. 

 'Lost all idee of where I ham, and where I'm 

 agoin',' continued he, looking about to see if he 

 could recognise anything. Hills, dales, woods, 

 water, were equally new to him. 



Crash! now go the hounds upon an old dead 

 thorn-fence, stuck on a low sod-bank, making 

 Jorrocks shudder at the sound. Over goes Stobbs 

 without doing anything for his followers. 



' Go on, Binjimin ! go on ! Now,' cries Jorrocks, 

 cantering up, cracking his whip, as if he wanted 

 to take it in stride, but in reality to frighten Ben 



82 



