THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 61 



china shop, a bear in a tea-garden, or any- 

 thing else strangely awkward and much out 

 of his element. 



There they were, in showy red and Lincoln 

 green, in leather, cords, and kersey drabs; 

 white tops, brown, and black; hats, caps, and 

 thatch; some mounted and some afoot. From 

 the high-mettled hunter with his shot-silk 

 and glistening coat, to the rough and shaggy 

 tailor's pony; in short, all sizes, shapes, 

 colours, and conditions, might be seen 

 congregated, expectant, and prepared for our 

 arrival. 



"Here they are! " shouted an urchin, 

 perched on the topmost limb of a tree. " Here 

 they are! " repeated he, hallooing to the 

 stretch of his lungs; and then a whooping 

 crew of his fellows took up the cry, making 

 the welkin echo with their din. 



" Your servant, gentlemen," said Will 

 Sykes, touching the peak of his cap; and 

 during a short delay, waiting the arrival of 

 the Squire, he proceeded to point out the 

 young hounds, making me an especial object 

 of notice. 



" What's his pedigwee? " lisped a pale- 

 faced gentleman in spectacles, famous for 



