494 FOX-HOUND, FOREST, AND PRAIRIE. 



here ? Have you come to haunt me by day as you do by 

 night ? Nay. No spectral huntsman ! no visionary hounds ; 

 are these. Solid, ruddy, friendly, and true is that lusty form 

 on the sturdy grey : very lifelife, practical, and entrancing is 

 the lithe little pack at his heels. On their way to the Gorse, 

 are they ! And if that way is a hundred yards round you've at 

 least made me grateful for life. Dim and blurred as in a 

 dream the mass of colour and movement that follows. The sun 

 is strong and dazzling. Man is but weak, and weaker when 

 ailing. "I was afraid it might be too much for you," came 

 the kindly word next day. " Too much ! " how can there 

 be " too much " of fellowkindness, in a world that is rough as a 

 coral strand ? 



The little side fences prove an attraction to a few, and a 

 welcome diversion to me, the onlooker. In place of threading 

 their way through the gate, half a dozen considerate spirits fly 

 the plashed hedge beside it ; and as these are headed by the 

 tip topmost of stud grooms, by an ex-master of hounds, and by 

 a practised farmer, you may take it for granted that this part 

 of the exhibition is practically faultless. Not altogether the 

 same is it with the after performers. Some horses decline to 

 lark : some men don't care about larking. But — if I may say 

 so without seeming ungrateful — it were better that the man 

 should express his own feelings first, not wait to acknowledge 

 them till the horse has declared his. 



HACK-HUNTING. 



Not even Melton can approach such qualification as we have 

 here for this week. Six packs for the six days, never a meet 

 beyond a dozen miles ; hunting to be had within six miles 

 every day but one, and all on the very best of grass ! For 

 mens sana I care not. For corpus sanum and six safe con- 

 veyances I would give, well, more than I possess. Such a 

 programme will not come again this season. 



