THE INITIAL BURST. 43 



was incorporated by the Greeks as Phobos — that the Latins 

 deemed a satellite of Mars (a jackal, as it were, to the lion) — 

 and that classic Englishmen term "funk." The instinct of 

 self preservation is, whether actively or passively shown, an agent 

 altogether too potent in the directiou of man's adventure. It 

 baulks him often when he might be almost brilliant, it checks 

 him when he would soar, it takes nothing for granted — and least 

 of all does it encourage a leap in the dai-k. A strong or enthu- 

 siastic spirit, or a powerful ambition, may help him to assault 

 and overcome a patent source of terror — or, let us bring the 

 abstract down to technical reality, might brace a coward (and 

 are we not all more or less cowards — too often the former 

 degree ?) to face a sturdy fence perfectly hateful in its aspect, 

 yet plain and measurable to the eye. But the instinct asserts 

 itself at once with tremendous force, if asked to sanction a charge 

 against a tall screen of green leaf — with a ditch lurking some- 

 where on the near side, and perhaps a pond, possibly an oxrail, 

 on the other. Oh no — not unless somebody has gone first. 

 Then proh-puclor ! I'm a gallant man at once. It's only a 

 shallow wall of twigs. 



For a bare ten minutes lasted the trial between anxiety and 

 resolution — the fight between ardour and discrimination. Men 

 helped each other on somehow ; and the music of the constantly 

 vanishing pack lent a strong stimulus. The big little places 

 were all jumped in safety ; and the party, after a semicircle of 

 vague but rapid wandering, regained the park of Barkby Hall. 



THE INITIAL BURST. 



The first gallop of the Quorn season was on Friday, Oct. 6 — 

 an hour's run over the grass — a good pace — and a point of 

 five miles over a perfect country. The morning was damp, 

 dull, and autumnal ; the two previous days had been given to 

 unceasing rain ; and ground was wet as pulp on the top, though 

 still firm and sound under the turf. 



Quenby Hall is this year a deserted mansion — Lord 



