Old Stories. 27 



spective haunches. Of course Mr. Smith went away 

 by himself, nor was there much better chance of 

 catching him when he got amongst the small enclo- 

 sures and large fences of the woodlands. For myself, 

 a raw schoolboy, on a rawer four-year-old pony, I rode 

 in a state of great excitement, chiefly along lanes — in 

 which, however, I must plead in excuse that most of 

 my seniors were with me — content to catch sight now 

 and then of a tail hound crossing a road, till at last we 

 found Mr. Smith standing alone in a green space in 

 the middle of Harridens, with the brush in his hand, 

 and the hounds breaking up the fox around him. I re- 

 turned home with an ear of the animal in my pocket ; 

 for the pads had all been appropriated by my 

 betters, fully believing the whipper-in's solemn assur- 

 ance that, ' next to the brush, the lug was the most 

 sporting part of the fox, and well convinced that I had 

 been taking a part in the most glorious achievement 

 ever performed by hounds. 



It happened that on May 6, 18 14, after regular 

 hunting had ceased, by some arrangement between 

 the two masters, Mr. Chute's hounds were to have a 

 private meet at Mr. Villebois' cover, Chilton Wood. 

 My father was invited to it. He was then preparing 

 me at home for Winchester School, and, to my great 

 disappointment, declined the invitation ; but in order 

 to console me wrote the following lines, which though 

 destitute of the poetry which is to be found in some 

 of his compositions, yet contains plenty of good sense. 



' Why must this day be spent in books ? ' 

 If I interpret right his looks, 

 My Edward seems to say : 



