LIFE OF MYTTON. 105 



Tinkler. " Not the brown horse you had from Sir 

 Bellingham ? His legs begin to get very round." 



Mr. Mytton. " That is the very reason why I will 

 ride him, as it will make them fine." 



Tinkler. " Not the Hit-or-Miss mare ? You will 

 want her for the Cheshire." 



Mr. Mytton. " It will put her in wind." 



Remonstrance was in vain. Ever)^ horse was sad- 

 dled, and the Squire, his three whippers, with Tom 

 Whitehouse, his jockey, were all mounted on the best 

 horses in the stud. 



I cannot describe our arrival at the covert ; I cannot 

 speak of the hound that " spoke to him in the gorse ; " 

 I cannot even attempt to describe the crash when he 

 broke from the covert ; but — from the inside of a 

 wicker basket with a lid to it — (oh ! how tame, how 

 languidly, does my pen move over my paper as I write 

 it!) — away sneaked as fine a fox as ever wore a brush, 

 and certainly afforded us a very fine run of an hour, 

 when he fell a victim to the pack, which, I must say, 

 hunted him well. 



Nothing is to be done in Shropshire without a lun- 

 cheon; but, on this day, we had two — first, at the inn 

 at Ellesmere, after our run ; and, secondly, at the 

 house of a very respectable yeoman, by the name of 



