66 Hark Away, 



whisky, a precaution the wisdom of which was 

 proved ere the close of the day, I mounted my nag 

 and journeyed in the direction of Exford. Scarcely 

 had we entered upon the outskirts of Exmoor, when 

 my companion and myself came to the conclusion 

 that we should have a rough time of it, and a heavy 

 rain fell at intervals as we trotted along over this 

 wild part of the country. 



A little while elapses, and we come upon a gipsy 

 encampment at Coomber Gate, a well-known meet of 

 the Devon and Somerset, then up and down the 

 steep hills, along the shady lanes, where the foxglove 

 flourishes amidst the countless beautiful ferns, the 

 sprays of wild honeysuckle hanging in graceful 

 festoons from the tall hedgerows, and we approach 

 the extremely quiet little village of Exford, and puU 

 up at the White Horse, of which Mr. King is also the 

 proprietor, and from him we learn that the hounds 

 have just started for Cloutsham. 



Then we trot sharply away, and speedily overtake 

 the Master, Mordaunt Frederick Bisset, Esq., mounted 

 on a noble grey horse, — and noble he need be to carry 

 this welter weight and hard-riding sportsman, who 

 stands somewhere about 6 feet 3 inches in height, and 

 who cannot ride less than twenty-two stone at a mode- 

 rate computation. Riding at the head of his splendid 

 pack of hounds, numbering this day twenty-seven 

 couples, followed by Arthur Heal the huntsman, and 

 George Southwell his whip, this fine sportsman seems 

 in every way the right man in the right place, and the 

 way in which he bounds aloDg over the blooming hea- 

 ther and gallops up and down the tremendously steep 

 hills, must be seen to be believed, and would put to 



