CHAPTER XIX. 



HUNTING AT BRIGHTON. 



The autumn fast is waning, 

 The air is brisk and clear, 

 For winter is approaching, 



That pleasant time of year ; 



When hill, and dale, and woodland shall joyously resound 

 With the huntsman's cheery halloo and the music of the hound. 



THE hunting at the favourite seaside resort Brighton 

 as we call it nowadays, but known as Brighthelmstone 

 in the good old times when George the Fourth was 

 king commenced with unusual eclat and great suc- 

 cess. This city by the sea is overflowing with visitors, 

 many of whom are attracted by the opportunities of 

 enjoying thoroughly good sport over the breezy downs 

 in the vicinity of this pleasantest of all watering- 

 places. First and foremost, they can ride with the 

 well-known and thoroughly sporting pack, the South- 

 down Foxhounds, which, over hill and dale and 

 through the woodland wild, will lead you as merry a 

 dance as you can desire. Those who wish to enjoy a 

 thoroughly good day's sport can always insure it if 

 they follow in the wake of Champion and his well-bred 

 lot of first-class hounds. This persevering huntsman 

 has carried the horn for the last twenty-two or twenty- 



