42 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 



our out'ards, that they're all gammon and 

 bacon, rest assured they won't pass as the 

 best of chitlins." 



And was it for this, then — this worldly 

 object — that Mrs. Sykes might be seen on 

 every succeeding Sunday, volume in hand, 

 walking with stately and measured tread 

 along the path leading to the gray -mossed and 

 ivy-twined church ? Was it for this that the 

 ribbed silk dress and most treasured bonnet 

 were donned on the seventh day, when the 

 likelihood was great of many eyes beholding 

 them ? Was it for this that, from the bright 

 buckle in her shoe to the topmost ribbon stuck 

 jauntily to flutter in the breeze, Mrs. Sykes 

 evinced such elaborate taste and dainty care ? 

 Mrs. Sykes, like countless hosts of her betters, 

 would have been justly indignant had such 

 prying interrogatories been put to her for 

 solution, however blandly they might have 

 been effected ; and as there is no confession on 

 her part, and no justifiable ground for specu- 

 lation in the replies, they must remain 

 unanswered to the end of time. 



Tom Holt, the first whipper-in, and conse- 

 quently second in command, was a very 

 different genus homo to our huntsman. As 



