THE CHACE. 
a very rural country, and unknown to any one, but 
determined to witness the start, gets into a conspicuous 
situation : " Come away, Sir!" holloas the master (little 
suspecting that the Snob may be nothing less than one 
of the Quarterly Reviewers). " What mischief are you 
doing there? Do you think you can catch the fox?" 
A breathless silence ensues. At length a whimper is 
heard in the cover like the voice of a dog in a dream : 
it is Flourisher*, and the Squire cheers him to the echo. 
In an instant a hound challenges and another and 
another. 'Tis enough. " Tallyho /" cries a country- 
man in a tree. " He 's gone," exclaims Lord Alvanley ; 
and, clapping his spurs to his horse, in an instant is in 
the front rank. 
As all good sportsmen would say, " 'Ware, hounds !" 
cries Sir Harry Goodricke. " Give them time," exclaims 
Mr. John Moore. "That's right," says Mr. Osbal- 
deston, " spoil your own sport as usual." " Go along '," 
roars out Mr. Holyoake, " there are three couple of 
hounds on the scent." "That's your sort," says Billy 
Coke, "I" coming up at the rate of thirty miles an hour on 
Advance, with a label pinned on his back, " he kicks :" 
" the rest are all coming, and there 's a rare scent 
to-day, I 'm sure." Bonaparte's Old Guard, in its best 
either that or Tiger is too often applied to a total stranger who ventures to 
shew himself in the " swell countries, ' as they are called. 
* A noted finder, now in Mr. Osbaldeston's pack. 
+ Nephew to Mr. Coke, of Holkham ; his famous horse Advance was 
dangerous in a crowd, and hence the necessity of a label. 
