FOX-HUNTING 



to Jack Stevens. ** Can't tell, my Lord; but I 

 thought it was a queerish place when I came over 

 it before him." It is evidently a case of peril, but 

 the pace is too good to afford help. 



* 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 Httle 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 so ever 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 hundreds of 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 Ash ton. **For heaven's 

 sake take care of my hounds, in case they may throw 



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