FOX-HUNTING 



bridle-reins gathered well up into the hand, and hats 

 pushed down upon the brow. 



*At this interesting period, a Snob, just arrived 

 from a very rural country, and unknown to any one, 

 but determined to witness the start, gets into a con- 

 spicuous situation: *'Gome 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. ' * Tally-ho ! " 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. Osbaldeston, "spoil your own sport as 

 usual." "Go a/ow^," roars out Mr. Holyoake, "there 

 are three couple of hounds on the scent." "That's 

 your sort," says " Billy Coke,"^ coming up at the rate 

 of thirty miles an hour on Advance, with a label 

 pinned on his back "she kicks" ; "the rest are all 

 coming, and there's a rare scent to-day, I'm sure." 



Said to be the designer of the * billy-cock ' hat. 



19 



