550 FOXHOUND, FOREST, AND PRAIRIE. 



gave an impetus to the possibility to be realised. When my 

 time comes to go a-hunting afoot, I shall go for a hill- top — 

 Robin-a-Tiptoe, Hemplow, Staverton Hill by turns — that I may 

 still conceive the chase in full sweep, throw my whole heart into 

 its vanishing enchantment, and go home to an evening's dream 

 of men and incident, bygone. Leave such for a refuge. Post- 

 ponement of fate (ill philosophy though it be) is often an 

 essential principle. Why, we are not yet at Christmas. 1890 

 is still our year of gladness — and the season is young. 



In common decency I cannot prolong a quarter-hour scurry. 

 I remember in those brief minutes a dozen early ridge-and- 

 furrowed fields — a vision of striding horses that made almost 

 smooth weather of the chopping sea, so evenly did they glide 

 over it— and I remember a few cheery fences that failed to 

 interfere with the stride. Do you notice — if not, do so hence- 

 forth while you ride to hounds (one gave me the office years 

 ago — no other than George Whyte Melville of sainted renown) 

 that fox or stag almost invariably takes hounds where man may 

 follow ? It was instanced to-day. Our fox, rather than wet his 

 jacket, at the last moment skirted the little lofty-fenced brook 

 that runs to Floore, that he might cross, dry-padded, a shep- 

 herd's bridge with a hand-gate. The bridge was frail of struc- 

 ture and honeycombed. But it bore a led horse. The hunts- 

 man then, with a ready waggery suggestive of good times and 

 a sterling mount, rode over to the remark, " Speak well o* the 

 bridge that carries you over." The rest, separated by a fence 

 that it was better to have gone over than to return by, demurred 

 a second while the question of creeping or flying was under con- 

 sideration — and solved it both ways. Meanwhile Reynard was 

 struck by an after-thought, which did him no credit. " Too hot 

 to last ; I'm to ground." And he was- — in a spinney and its 

 earth, short of Floore village. It would be an impertinence of 

 me to say more than that I saw at least the following looking 

 gratified and glowing when I arrived at the scene ; but the 

 briefest tale unheroic is half complete — the absence of many 

 gives the opportunity of instancing a few, and I trust these few 



