THE WHITE TROUT. 449 



being thrown across it, and, later still, this barbed invention of 

 the same personage came into vogue, on one side to promote 

 malice, on the other to pander to carelessness. The pack on 

 this occasion made a flying circle over the grass, nearly by 

 Bradden, then with a swing across the valley towards Seawell 

 Wood, back by Blakesley village to Tite's Copse, which they 

 reached in sixteen minutes, having run right away from their 

 field throughout. Gates, and gates only, fell to the share 

 of their galloping followers, till, with a bright sun in their 

 eyes, they approached some easy uphill fences on the way 

 back. The wire rang out like a banjo as three horses rose at a 

 hedge together. Mr. Campbell and his black horse were flung 

 into the next field, while two other couples kept their legs with 

 a struggle. The wire was so hidden by sun and thorn that 

 others who came next would scarcely accept the warning of 

 shout and clamour, and almost rode open-eyed to their fate. 

 Yet the farmer meant them no harm. " A capital fellow " they 

 say he is ; and only wanting his memory jogged. Such in- 

 stances await us on all sides. Too many good fellows are 

 asleep ; and the awakening may come with a terrible casualty 

 at their doors. Now, in the next five minutes hounds had 

 raced two foxes to ground — the pack dividing, and both sections 

 chasing in view. So the day ended. 



THE WHITE TROUT 



Suddenly the snow faded away and the season re-opened on 

 Monday with a southerly wind and a cloudy sky — and with a 

 glad warmth that sent one to covert in a glow of content, 

 surprise, and anticipation. Frost and idleness had lasted long 

 enough to make the outlook oppressive, the present tedious, 

 and the future gloomy. " Quiet to quick bosoms is a hell ; " 

 and a sluggish existence, so sudden and so early, was almost 

 unbearable. 



But of Monday — a different tale. The Grafton enlivened 



o u 



