( 109 ) 



MR. METAL. 



HAT'S a fox, for a ' ponyy remarks, for the 

 benefit of the scarlet-coated, cigar-smoking 

 crowd assembled in a ride in Oakover Wood, 

 a sharp-looking, grizzly-haired, middle-aged man of 

 rather prepossessing appearance, attired in a well-cut black 

 coat, white cords, and brown-topped boots, the said boots 

 being extremely thin, and looking more adapted for the 

 steeple-chase than the hunting-field. His hat is stuck in 

 a knowing manner rather on one side of his head ; a 

 cutting whip, instead of the orthodox hunting-crop, is 

 grasped in his dogskin-gloved hand ; and he is mounted 

 on a weedy-looking thoroughbred bay, possessing 

 a pair of exceedingly doubtful-looking forelegs, and an 

 extremely wicked eye. 



" That's a fox, for a monkey,'' exclaims he, rising in his 

 price, and looking round as if to say, " Who'll take me ? " 

 This time the melodious voices of three or four hounds in 

 the deep dell to his right are heard, giving tongue in a 

 more decided manner than before, bringing all their com- 

 rades to their side at once to find out what the matter is. 

 See ! Bellman and Boisterous come up in a deuce of a 

 hurry, jealous of some of the younger members of the 

 pack ; and Ravager too — steady old Ravager — bristling 

 with impatience. " Hooick to Ravager, hooick I " cheers 



