CHAPTER XVI. 



A DAY'S COUESING. 



As for coursing, I see no pleasure in it ; 

 Dull for an hour and mad for a minute 



Was the burthen of an old, old song, expressing the 

 opinion of one whose ardour for the chase led him to 

 look contemptuously on the pleasures of the leash. 

 There is coursing and coursing, I admit, and I should 

 no more think of attending a meeting where trapped 

 hares were the game, than I should of joining in a 

 sparrow-match at The Pig and Whistle, to shoot for the 

 prize of a fat pig. But, given a fine day at the end 

 of February, when hares are sure to run stoutly, a 

 wide tract of open country, some fine-drawn, high- 

 bred greyhounds, a pleasant party, and a hearty 

 welcome from the occupier of the soil, then I am 

 quite content to make one of the throng. Never 

 having visited this part of Kent before, I was 

 naturally desirous of ascertaining some particulars 

 of the locality in which I was to enjoy a day's 

 coursing. Referring to one of Camden's ponderous 

 volumes, I read that " Rumney Marsh ys from 

 Limmenhill upwards a X miles in bredeth. It is a 



