NIMROD'S NORTHERN TOUR. 69 



Nimrod. You have a good old horse there, boy. 



Boy. Aye — have I. 



Nimrod. Is he a hunter ? 



Boy. Aye — is he ; he's a muccle of spirit, but he's sair wraught 

 and all fad. 



Nimrod. Will you follow me over that hedge ? 



Boy. A ah— and what will I get by that ? What if 1 breaks his lag ? 



Nimrod. A good licking, I suppose. 



Boy. Nay — and that wouldn't be a'. 



If this be a specimen, said I to myself, there will be no difficulty on 

 this score ; but I suspect an English lad would have risked the conse- 

 quence of the " lark." 



When I arose in the morning I found the frost unusually severe for 

 the season, and the guard of the curricle mail reported it's being still 

 severer south. One night's frost in November, however, seldom stop- 

 ping hunting, I rode to the place of meeting, making allowance for the 

 morning, and just nicked the time. I have already made mention of 

 this pack, as formerly managed by Mr. Boag, but now by Major St. 

 Paul,— brother to Sir Horace— and with whom I became acquainted 

 during one of my visits to Raby-castle. He has been all his life a dear 



