17 



CHAPTER II. 



THE OLD PACK. 



It is all very well to "go to the Shires," as Mr 

 Sawyer did, or to cross the Irish Channel and enjoy 

 the delights of gallops on equally green and less 

 holding pastures in Meath, but after all we never 

 lose, I think, the old keen sense of pleasure, which 

 dates from our knickerbocker days, and which returns 

 when we run down for a few days with the old pack 

 **at home." 



As we emerofe from the little station into the street 

 of the quaint old market town, we are reminded of 

 the hounds at once by a broad grin under a finger- 

 rapped hat brim, whose wearer occupies the box seat 

 of a comfortable-looking waggonette. Is it not Bill 



M , erstwhile the man who blooded us to fox, and 



who has now in his old age descended to the comfort- 

 able servitude of two maiden ladies ? For in the 

 provinces the huntsman by no means occupies the 

 position he does in the crack counties ; and we have 

 known one who was not above ploughing on non- 

 hunting days. But we can't stay, for the dog-cart 

 waits. As we pass the local club we exchange a 



wave of the hand with the Rev. Nat B , who, 



though staunch to his resolution, made the day he 



B 



