A ROYAL STAG-HUNT. 97 



cut, and the sheaves hang down their heads in a 

 despondent fashion. There is scarcely any fruit 

 here and there a few pears, no apples, plenty of green 

 leaves, but few flowers, and those wearing a washed- 

 out appearance. A more melancholy prospect for 

 farmers I have never known; it is too late for 

 recovery; without sunshine neither wheat, barley, 

 nor oats can have any quality, and what hay is gathered 

 must necessarily be inferior. The earth is literally 

 soddened, and it required some considerable nerve to 

 gallop over the treacherous soil of Exmoor, where you 

 may suddenly find your fleet career checked by an 

 inglorious fall into one of the deep bogs, from which. 

 at is no easy matter to extricate yourself and horse. 



