2 A BOOK ABOUT THE GARDEN. 



diamond eyes shone in the head of a golden fox, 

 which fastened the folds of a snowy neckerchief, white 

 and smooth as the petal of a Camellia; a coat of 

 scarlet, glowing like a Poinsettia, was buttoned over a 

 blue bird's-eye vest; and warm, easy, well-fitting, 

 thick-ribbed " cords " disappeared into a pair of pale 

 brown "tops." "There never, my boy," he gaily 

 observecl, " can be the faintest whimper of a doubt 

 that the greatest fun in all the world is the fun of 

 riding to hounds. To leave a discomfited host of 

 skirters and craners, drawn up aghast at a scowling 

 stile, or galloping ruefully by some chilly stream in 

 search of ford or bridge ; and then pressing on pasture, 

 and pulling in plough, to have forty minutes, and 

 ' who-op ' in the open ! By Jove, old fellow " (and 

 here he fenced at my ribs with his hunting-whip), 



" Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings." 



And I made answer to this festive phantom in 

 breeches, and I said, " True, crimson spectre, true. 

 Hunting is undoubtedly of sports the Pope, but, alas ! 

 not more infallible. It happens to its keenest sons 

 sometimes to be yearning for a start at one particular 

 corner of a gorse, just when the fox goes away best 

 pace in a precisely opposite direction ; and then, oh, 

 brother of the gamboge boots, the riding after hounds 

 is vanity. And the wind of horses is an uncertain 

 thing ; and the stub, and over-reach, and pointed 

 stake are perils great and hateful ; and banks are 

 treacherous and ditches blind, and there is ever a 

 maniac on a rushing chestnut, to jump upon us when 



