CHAPTEK XVI. 



BEFORE THE FEOST. 



HEN I awoke in the morning to find London 

 enveloped in a dismal fog, and observed 

 on my breakfast table the bi-annual invi- 

 tation to a banquet from the Worshipful- 

 Company of Ironmongers, of which honourable guild 

 I am more or less a worthy member, I instantly 

 recognised the signs of the season, saw the impend- 

 ing winter weather, and forthwith resolved to seek 

 safety in flight from the evils attendant on the murky 

 atmosphere of the metropolis : escaping also the inevit- 

 able indigestion that follows on undue indulgence in 

 the pleasures of the table, and avoiding the headache 

 that is the reward of those who dine not wisely but 

 too well. Remembering the cordial invitations to 

 revisit scenes of past delights in the lovely counties 

 of Devon and Somerset, I determine to be off with- 

 out a minute's unnecessary delay, so as to try my 

 hand again at the glorious pastime of hunting the 

 hind over the trackless wastes of Exmoor, across 

 which I have ridden many a time and oft, when in 

 pursuit of a "stag often." 



Making known my purpose, I am met with ob- 

 jections. A candid friend suggests that I have 



