140 By Stream and Sea. 



scientious objections. Their sleek forms and satin skins 

 show well upon the bright- coloured turf which they bedeck 

 like a flower-bed. 



Here at Southwick Green, moreover, we are close to the 

 scene of action. The Downs, it is true, are but half deve- 

 loped, being nothing more than spent waves of undulations 

 by the side of the massive billows that beckon us towards 

 the glorious Sussex uplands. We can see the upper spars of 

 the schooners and brigs in Shoreham harbour, can hear the 

 murmur of the sea above the bustle incident to meet and 

 start. Within two minutes of moving from the Green, the 

 harriers are scattering, nose to ground, and, with but little 

 fuss or noise, as becomes . their race, setting about their 

 business. Carriages and gigs are drawn up along the path 

 at the bottom of the field ; the horsemen are for the most 

 part posted by the rails dividing the fallow from the turnips, 

 into which the dogs eagerly range. Their wagging tails and 

 bodies, rising and falling amongst the dark green leaves, look 

 for all the world like a flock of agitated geese floundering 

 out of the way. 



The huntsman, satisfied that there is nothing to be done 

 here, calls his beauties across to the fallow, where, as so 

 often happens, from a form which every one of us must have 

 scanned a dozen times, it being, as you might say, close 

 under one's eyes, a hare is unexpectedly discovered. She 

 discovers herself, in fact, by leaping up and fleeing for her 

 life, while the shouting of the boys and men, the sharp cry 

 of the harriers, and an involuntary movement among the 

 riders proclaim that the sport has begun. The hare, seem- 

 ing to think there is more safety in humankind than with the 

 dogs, makes straight for the line of carriages, runs actually 

 parallel with them, and so near that any one of the coach- 

 men might slash her with his whip. Within a few yards of 



