THE CHACE. 
Up to this time, " Snob" has gone quite in the first 
flight ; the " Dons" begin to eye him, and, when an 
opportunity offers, the question is asked "Who is that 
fellow on the little bay horse ?" "Don't know him," 
says Mr. Little Gilmour (a fourteen-stone Scotchman, 
by-the-by), ganging gallantly to his hounds. " He can 
ride," exclaims Lord Rancliffe. " A tip-top provincial, 
depend upon it," added Lord Plymouth, going quite at 
his ease on a thorough-bred nag, three stone above his 
weight, and in perfect racing trim. Animal nature, 
however, will cry "enough," how good soever she may 
be, if unreasonable man press her beyond the point. 
The line of scent lies right athwart a large grass ground 
(as a field is termed in Leicestershire), somewhat on the 
ascent ; abounding in ant-hills, or hillocks, peculiar to 
old grazing land, and thrown up by the plough, some 
hundred years since, into rather high ridges, with deep, 
holding furrows between each. The fence at the top is 
impracticable Meltonice, "a stopper;" nothing for it 
but a gate, leading into a broad green lane, high and 
strong, with deep slippery ground on each side of it. 
" Now for the timber-jumper," cries Osbaldeston, pleased 
to find himself upon Ashton. " For Heaven's sake, take 
care of my hounds, in case they may throw up in the 
lane." Snob is here in the best company, and that 
moment perhaps the happiest of his life ; but, not 
satisfied with his situation, wishing to out- Herod Herod, 
and to have a fine story to tell when he gets home, he 
pushes to his speed on ground on which all regular 
