CHAPTER XXIX. 



A TEASER WITH THE TED WORTH. 



W is the time for hunting. " When Spring 

 unlocks the flowers to paint the laughing 

 soil," I said to myself, when galloping 

 through the covers, remorselessly tramp- 

 ling under foot the modest snowdrops and the pale 

 yellow aconites as I endeavoured to keep witliin 

 a respectable distance of that celebrated pack, " The 

 Tedworth," on Monday last, when they met at 

 Everley. 



Wonderful are the changes of temperature in this 

 variable clime, for on that day a mild gentle rain was 

 falling, the ground was unlocked from the grip of 

 Jack Frost, and instead of the iron-hard roads, snow- 

 drifts, and cruel cold winds, we had the country 

 softer than I ever remember to have seen it — fetlock 

 deep even on the light lands of Hampshire and Wilt- 

 shire, in both of which counties, during the day, I 

 found myself endeavouring to follow 



" The stirring chase. 

 Of hounds and foxes striving in the race." 



After some two months' forced abstention from tlie 

 noble sport, I took advantage of the change of 



