CHAPTER XXYIL 



STILL FROZEN OUT. 



I OPE told a flattering tale that joy would 

 soon return when Sunday morning 

 dawned, and the snow and ice began to 

 dissolve. Disappointment is the lot of 

 men in general, but this year to huntsmen more 

 especially ; and the return of frost, with the accom- 

 paniment of a bitter east wind, has destroyed all 

 chance of hunting for the next few days. 



Going down St. Swithin's Lane on Saturday last, 

 I met one whom I have frequently seen under very 

 different cu-cumstances, namely, in the heart of the 

 shires, going straight across country like a bird, and 

 never certainly to be found in a lane. Now frozen 

 out still, the popular Master of the Quorn is driven 

 to the Metropolis, and from the direction he was 

 pointing, for I should imagine he was going to the 

 Bank, to see how the account of that distinguished 

 hunt stands. I hope it is a bumper, as I know Mr. 

 Coupland likes bumpers when they come in the 

 shape of brooks. 



Condoling with him on the unfortunate state of 

 affairs, he said he had never experienced anything 

 like it, and that it would be necessary, after so long 



