270 FOX-HOUND, FOREST, AND PRAIRIE. 



as many odd as can be proved against us) are ever likely to 

 learn. Smartness is their characteristic. They are born to a 

 knowledge of fitness and completeness ; and carry it as bravely 

 to the covert-side as to the smoking room. Now one of these 

 (there is, believe me, neither malice nor bad faith in the dis- 

 closure) bought himself a new horse but the other day. "A 

 clipper" he told us, " and the best looking one you ever laid 

 eyes upon." So by train he came to a certain meet above- 

 mentioned — his coterie of confidential all agape to view the 

 new wonder. He was rather late, but that was scarcely to be 

 wondered at. He had barely time at the station to pitch his 

 furry coat and half a crown to the railway porter, to jump into 

 the saddle as the rugs were pulled off, and away. He looked 

 so pleased ; he looked so pretty. He almost commanded 

 approval and applause, as he gazed around with conscious pride 

 — not for himself but for the beauty he bestrode. Applause he 

 got, and readily — but accompanied by a ring of laughter that 

 grated horribly on his expectant soul. " Confound you fellows,, 

 what are you grinning at ? " Hounds were just moving ; and he 

 elected to go — and rid himself of such rude unsympathy. So 

 off he galloped, that at least he might show how Wonder could 

 move. He even larked him over a stile, and flicked him over a 

 sturdy fence — despising a gap. But, wherever he went, the 

 same maddening cackle followed, till he was on the point of 

 fleeing homeward, in fury and amazement. Then up rode one- 

 of the Nestors of the Hunt, with never a smile on his kindly 

 countenance. " I say, young gentleman, are you obliged to ride 

 that old horse in four bandages and in kneecaps ? Surely he 

 isn't safe ?" The murder was out. Down jumped the juvenile 

 Crichton. With muttered blessings, and a hot, flushed face, he 

 tore off the bandages and kneecaps left on by the porter as part 

 of his hunting accoutrements ; and stowed them away as best 

 he might under his saddle flap ! 



For some reason or other the day appeared by no means well 

 adapted to development of the very needful science of gate- 

 opening — an art in which a Northamptonshire field is, as a rule r 



