HUNTS WITH JORROCKS 



selves all the summer. What wild resolutions 

 they might have pledged themselves to is un- 

 certain, for just as the drawing up of vehicles, 

 the cuttings in and out of horsemen, the raising 

 of hats, the kissing of hands, and the volleys of 

 dust, were at their height, Walter Fleeceall's 

 ominous visage appearing on one side of the 

 gate, and Duncan Nevin's on the other, caused 

 such a sensation, that (to avoid the dust) many 

 of the gentlemen got into the fields, and never 

 came near the gate again. Added to this a 

 great black cart stallion, with his tail full of 

 red tape, whinnied and kicked up such a row, 

 that people could hardly hear themselves speak. 



At nine o'clock, half blinded, half baked, and 

 quite bothered, Mr. Jorrocks gave the signal for 

 leaving the meet. It was a wildish sort of try, 

 and every farmer having recently seen a fox at 

 some distance from his own farm, James Pigg 

 just run the hounds through turnip-fields, along 

 dike-backs as he called the hedgerows, and 

 through any little spinneys that came in his 



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