A FOXHUNTING JOURNAL 57 



in the side of the stable with straw, we decided to get a 

 good night's sleep, so as to be in fine trim for the morrow. 



We were in good trim when the morning came, but sadly 

 out of luck as regards the weather, for it was snowing hard, 

 blowing a gale, and cold as the North Pole. Mrs. Howard 

 Henry telephoned, just as we were getting up, to know what 

 the weather was like with us, so we told her to come on 

 over, and she did, motoring forty-five miles from Camp 

 Hill in the storm and wrecking her car on a rock at the 

 gateway. By ten o'clock we had a fine party in the making, 

 and it made out splendidly all day and part of it all night. 



Nelson Buckley and Chris Hagen came from the hotel 

 where they were stopping; Miss Rose Dolan motored over, 

 bringing Miss Hopkins, John Tucker, and " Buzzy " Smith; 

 Victor and Mrs. Mather and Miss Josephine Mather came 

 from Brandy wine; Drexel Paul and Frank Lloyd also 

 arrived; altogether Plunket had a party of nineteen for 

 lunch, with everybody hungry and thirsty, and, as is 

 always the case with our host, there was food and drink 

 for all. 



Ben Chew and I walked through the snow to Union- 

 ville in the afternoon to have a look at the horses. Of the 

 others, some slept, some ate, and some drank; but all were 

 merry, whichever of the three they were doing. Towards 

 evening, Mr. B., waking up and seeing Mr. C. asleep by 

 the fire, with a tall glass by his elbow, said, "Now's my 

 chance to tell C. what I think of him ! C, you are a pink- 

 wissered scoundrel; but, if you were awake, I'd call you a 

 gentleman." Some one said, "A pink what.^" and he an- 

 swered, "Wissered, wissered, damn it! Don't you know 

 what wissers are?" He was quickly given another, and 

 went peacefully to sleep again. But his name was "Wis- 

 sers" the rest of the visit. 



