EEMINISCENCES OF A HUNTSMAN. 81 



" Come, my fine feller, it's your turn to be hunted 

 now ! " John's face, radiant with the delightful idea 

 of the "pitching in," as he termed it, that he thought 

 was about to take place. I looked the man over, but 

 not having had much time to identify any of the 

 oiFenders, it was impossible for me to tell whether 

 he had struck me or not, so to John's great dis- 

 appointment, who said, I should " never have such a 

 chance of rewenge again," I bid the fellow go about 

 his business. On asking John how he got the man 

 in, he said, "Oh! he was werry busy among 'em;" 

 and while they were lifting the stag into the cart, 

 this man had got in to pull at his horns, so John 

 closed the door, and went off at speed, the jolting of 

 the cart, and the noise made by so many people, 

 effectually drowning the shouts of the terrified pri- 

 soner, who, John said, " kicked up a deuce of a nise, 

 and roared at fust like mad." 



While the hounds were at a check near Heston, 

 Mr. Henry Wombwell, tawny coat and all, was as- 

 saulted by a farmer's man thus. He was sitting by 

 the side of a fence, beyond which was a deep fall 

 or " drop," and, I think, speaking to a hound, when 

 all at once the man came behind him with a heavy 

 " top rail," and let it fall at him with all the impetus 

 he could give it. Luckily for Henry Wombwell the 

 rail fell on the croup of his horse, the old one-eyed 

 chesnut, who was a perfect fencer, and who instantly 

 topped the fence and disappeared with his rider on the 

 opposite side. My brother Augustus, who was out on 

 the before-mentioned old horse Sultan, on seeing this 

 assault, jumped from his horse and ran towards the 

 man, who had again assumed the heavy rail. My bro- 

 ther had in his hand a severe jockey whip, with which 



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