478 FOX-HOUND, FOREST, AND PRAIRIE. 



move. A small division was on the high ground above the 

 covert. These had to sweep to the left hand bridge, strike for 

 the line of chase from that starting-point, and take their 

 chance at the Yelvertoft Bottom as they met it here. It was 

 negotiable, at the pace — and may possibly be so in cold blood 

 too. For there is virtue, I am told, in cold blood ; and better 

 valour in cool calculation than in hot impulse. But it isn't 

 given to the foxhunter of ordinary mould — nor, truth to tell, 

 does he crave it. (Was it not rather mortifying, though, to 

 hit this wide nullah off at a spot where there was just room to 

 land on the further bank, but impetus failed to carry over, or 

 break through, the rails beyond ? High timber is not readily 

 to be jumped at a stand ; and the position forbade much choice 

 of action. How relief ever came to the predicament is some- 

 thing I have yet to learn.) 



The next fence had also a wide and woolly cavern in front ; 

 and the flyers rolled over it by twos and by threes. Up the 

 gentle slope towards Yelvertoft Village the leaders were 

 rapidly getting on terms with hounds — the left van headed by 

 one, " in mien and garb a youthful chieftain ; " while to his 

 right, making strong play, was a proven warrior " yet a very 

 man, not cast in mould too fine for human love." * But the old 

 hogmaned charger had been enjoying nearly a moon of 

 honeyed idleness ; and round he came from sheer friskiness — 

 to be cautioned with a double crack on his fat ribs that 

 sounded like a brace of pistol shot. A shepherd turned our 

 fox. (No shepherds, no grass countries. No grass countries, — 

 the deluge, again, as soon as possible). So the gallop was 

 rather nipped in its bud — to blossom again awhile in another 

 direction, which brought us back to the Yelvertoft Bottom — 

 this time with an assisting or deceptive, hedge before it. Two 

 men got down ; two men just got over; while the public again 

 sought a bridge. Then we had several merry minutes by the 

 left of Yelvertoft Village, to ground not far from Crack's Hill — 



* Our bridegroom of the year. 



