104 ML. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 



disheartened. " It'll blow over," repeated he, adding, " often rare 

 scents snch days as these. But we must put on," continued he, 

 looking at his watch, "for it's half-past, and we are a mile or more 

 off yet." So saying, he clapped spurs to his hack and shot away 

 at a canter, followed by Jack at a long-drawn " hammer and 

 pincers" trot. 



A hunt is something like an Assize circuit, where certain great 

 guns show everywhere, and smaller men drop in hero and there, 

 snatching a day or a brief, as the case may be. Sergeant Bluff 

 and Sergeant Huff rustle and wrangle in every court, while Mr. 

 Meeke and Mr. Sneeke enjoy their frights on the forensic arenas of 

 their respective towns, on behalf of simple neighbours, who look 

 upon them as thorough Solomons. So with hunts. Certain men 

 who seem to have been sent into the world for the express 

 purpose of hunting, arrive at every meet, far and near, with a 

 punctuality that is truly surprising, and rarely associated with 

 pleasure. 



If you listen to their conversation, it is generally a dissertation 

 on the previous day's sport, with inquiries as to the nearest way 

 to cover the next. Sometimes it is seasoned with censure of some 

 other pack they have been seeing. These men are mounted and 

 appointed in a manner that shows what a perfect profession 

 hunting is with them. Of course, they come cantering to cover, 

 lest any one should suppose they ride their horses on. 



The " Cross Eoads " was like two hunts or two circuits joining, 

 for it generally drew the picked men from each, to say nothing of 

 outriggers and chance customers. The regular attendants of 

 either hunt were sufficiently distinguishable as well by the flat 

 hats and baggy garments of the one, as by the dandified, Jemmy 

 Jessamy air of the other. If a lord had not been at the head of 

 the Flat Hats, the Puffington men would have considered them 

 insufferable snobs. But to our day. 



As usual, where hounds have to travel a long distance, the field 

 were assembled before they arrived. Almost all the cantering 

 gentlemen had cast up. 



One cross-road meet being so much like another, it will not be 

 worth while describing the one at Dallington Burn. The reader 

 will have the kindness to imagine a couple of roads crossing an 

 open common, with an armless sign-post on one side, and a rubble- 

 stone bridge, with several of the coping-stones lying in the 

 shallow stream below, on the other. 



The country round about, if any country could have been seen, 

 would have shown wild, open, and cheerless. Here a patch of 

 wood, there a patch of heath, but its general aspect bare and 

 unfruitful. The commanding outline of Bcechwood Forest was 

 not visible for the weather. Time now, let us suppose, half-past 



