39 



fellow, if he should perchance wear the livery of a grey 

 on the keen occasion. His hours, aye sometimes minutes, 

 are numbered, and his lucky foe, of the same ill-starred 

 genus escapes. 



A sketch of old Jonas and the fox's characters and 

 habits blended in contrast, utile cum inutile, into which 

 we have unintentionally been led in this place, has divert- 

 ed us from our intent and purpose, to pursue our descrip- 

 tion of some of the principal hunts remembered, as more 

 interesting perhaps, to the general reader. 



Therefore briefly, revenons a nos moutons. In the 

 winter of 1816, a large company composed of members 

 and invited friends, met by appointment, the evening 

 previous to an intended hunt, at the Widow Heston's es- 

 tablishment, Glassborough, New Jersey, twenty miles be- 

 low the city. It was an occasion of great merriment 

 and social entertainment, until the hour of repose. 

 Early next morning, calm, cold and frosty, our faithful 

 Cupid blew, 



" His hoarse-sounding horn 



Inviting to the chase, the sport of kingsj 



Image of war, without its guilt." 



We rose at the summons, and loud echo of the houndsj 

 breakfasted by candle light, and when grey dawn appear- 

 ed, about twenty of us mounted for the chase, in high 

 spirits at the prospect of a goodly day for sport, percep- 

 tively moderating as it advanced. 



