A SMOKING-ROOM PALAVER 327 



" Hang it ! " I exclaimed, hotly, " at your age can't 

 you understand the sport and intense interest of the 

 whole thing, when the day did break ? Old Mr. John 

 Watson, I dai'esay, wasn't much older than you at the 

 time. Can't you understand the pleasure of seeing 

 the hounds spread out and try? The delight when 

 some favourite opened on the drag and the others 

 coming to him endorsed his success ? Can't you 

 realise the excitement as the drag grew stronger and 

 they drew up to him ? Surely Somerville has been 

 quoted often enough ! Here is the volume and the 

 passages : — 



" Ere yet the morning peep 

 Or stars retire from the first blush of day, 

 With thy far-echoing voice alarm thy pack. 



. . . See ! how they range 

 Dispers'd, how busily this way and that 

 They cross, examining with curious nose 

 Each likely haunt. Hark I on the drag I hear 

 Their doubtful hotes, preluding to a cry. 



They push, they strive : while from his kennel sneaks 

 The conscious vUlain." 



" No poetry ! Why, man, that's a classic ! I never 

 see those words in print ' Hark ! on the drag I hear ! ' 

 without a thrill shooting through me." 



" Oh, I know ! " rejoined my tormenter, " that's all in 

 Jorrocks, and I've read it years ago — read it till I'm 

 sick of it. Read Soapey Sponge, too ! Do you remem- 

 ber what Jack Spraggon said of old Scamperdale? 

 Here, find me the book, and I'll read it ! Here it is ! 



