194 HAEB1ERS. 



masters check their more dashing pupils, the crowd gets 

 dispersed, and rides round, or halts on the edges, or 

 crawls slowly down the steep-sided valleys ; while the 

 hard riders catch their nags by the head, in w r ith the 

 spurs, and go down straight and furious, as if they were 

 away for ever and a day ; but the pedestrians and con- 

 stitutional cob-owners are comforted by assurances 

 that the hare is sure to run a ring back. But, on our 

 day, Pussy, having lain perdu during a few minutes' 

 check, started up suddenly amid a full cry, and rather 

 too much hallooing. A gentleman in large mustachios 

 and a velvet cap rode at her as if he meant to catch her 

 himself. Away we all dashed, losing sight of the dig- 

 nity of fox-hunters all mad as hatters (though why 

 hatters should be madder than cappers it would be dif- 

 ficult to say). The pace becomes tremendous ; the 

 pack tails by twos and threes; the valleys grow steeper; 

 the field lingers and halts more and more at each steeper 

 comb ; the lads who have hurried straight up the hill- 

 sides, instead of creeping up by degrees blow their 

 horses and come to a full stop ; while old hands at 

 Devonshire combs and Surrey steeps take their nags by 

 the head, rush down like thunder, and slily zigzag up 

 the opposite face at a trot ; and so, for ten minutes, so 

 straight, that a stranger, one of three in front, cried, 

 "By Jove, it must be a fox !" But at that moment the 

 leading hounds turned sharp to the right and then to 

 the left a shrill squeak, a cry of hounds, and all was over. 

 The sun shone out bright and clear ; looking up from 

 the valley on the hills, nine-tenths of the field were to 

 be seen a mile in the distance, galloping, trotting, 

 walking, or standing still, scattered like a pulk of pur- 

 suing Cossacks. The sight reminded me that, putting 

 aside the delicious excitement of a mad rush down hill 



