81 



master, huntsman, and field, that I determined to stop 

 and have a httle more of it, and, as you see, here I am 

 stiU." 



" But it must be much better fun running over the 

 grass than toiling along, all mud and wet, in our greasy 

 fallows, often with not scent enough to enable you to 

 hold the line ?" 



" You are quite right there ; and on some days, when 

 there is nothing to interfere with us, the sport is 

 glorious. I remember one day in particular, when we 

 slipped away from every one, in a dense fog that sud- 

 denly came over, and killed our fox after forty minutes 

 without a check or crossing a yard of plough ; but then 

 such a thing may not happen once in hounds' lifetime, and 

 as a rule after cub-hunting is over, we seldom have any 

 real fun — at least such is my experience. I like to hunt, 

 and nothing disgusts me more than having to gallop 

 about after the huntsman's horse, without being allowed 

 to put my nose down, and the constant danger of being 

 half laid open by the whipper-in's thong if I try to do 

 so. However, I never let that hinder me. And once 

 having slipped through a big ox-fence out of the way, 

 that young Jack Mas afraid to charge after me, I hit off 

 the line, and, with two couple and a half more that 

 came to me, had a good three-quarters of an hour, and 

 pulled down our fox, while A¥ill, the huntsman, was 

 galloping and halloaing right in the opposite direction, 

 and, after having ridden his horse nearly to a standstill, 

 blew his horn at a rabbit burrow, and swore the fox he 

 had lost six miles back was gone to ground. Not that 

 Will is a bad fellow, and I believe he would like to see 

 us hunt ; but then he is vain of his riding, and, as it is 

 the fashion for all the swells to ride at him and try to 

 cut him down, he soon loses his head, and thinks more 



