LETTER XI. 117 



at a late hour, and, what with discussmg a bottle or two 

 of Miss P.'s good orange wine, and the few drops of 

 brandy afterwards, my slumbers were prolonged to a 

 rather late hour on the following morning, much to the 

 delight of my good-natured host. Soon after breakfast 

 I was obliged to take leave of the worthy Mr. Thomas 

 Palmer, whose name, I have no doubt, is still re- 

 membered in those parts with esteem and regret, as 

 one of the good old' school of English yeomen now fast 

 passing away. 



Taking my route over the Downs, with the hounds all 



in couples, except this one dog named Deputy, and a 



favourite old greyhound, a hare suddenly jumped up in 



view, and off went Deputy, with the greyhound, after 



her. I checked back the other hounds, and rode on to 



the top of the hill, to see how this affair would end, little 



expecting my old friend Nimrod could manage a Down 



hare, which are generally both stout and fleet. A severe 



course ensued up and down the hills, the foxhound 



coming in for his turn occasionally ; and at last, to my 



great delight, they managed to overhaul poor puss. No 



sooner had this feat been performed, and the hare safely 



deposited in my valise, strapped to the pommel of the 



saddle, than a party of coursers made their appearance, 



in search of the very hare which I had just snugly stowed 



away. She had been found sitting by a shepherd, who 



had gone off to give intelligence to the coursers, whose 



sport I had thus unfortunately marred. It so happened, 



that one of the party was a friend, to whose house I was 



then wending my way; and, after dinner, when relating 



the circumstance, and regretting the run they had lost, 



I told him the hare was quite at his service, and I would 



