LETTER XV. ](]3 



hunting again, over some plouglied lands, and they all 

 thought it was over, when we crossed a road, down 

 which the hounds seemed to mark the scent. We went 

 on the road for nearly half a mile, trying the hedge as 

 we went, when we met a farmer on horseback, who had 

 been riding some distance on it. Eager inquiries were 

 made, of course, by every one if he had seen the fox, 

 " No." '* Now," said my friend, " the game is up to a 

 dead certainty, and I shall stop no longer." " Good 

 morning, then ; and I will send you the brush to- 

 morrow." "Pshaw !" he exclaimed, and turned away. 



My bristles were now up, and I determined to per- 

 severe. An old favourite hound threw his tongue, in 

 the middle of the road, up which the farmer had been 

 riding, upon which a staunch friend to hounds quietly 

 remarked, coming close up to me, " Is it possible that 

 can be right." " Yes," I said, *' it is quite possible, and 

 now we shall do again." Some of the field going down 

 the road, to save their nags (who had all by this nearly 

 if not quite enough, and some more than enough) viewed 

 the fox stealing away the other side of the plantation 

 before the hounds reached it ; and such a row commenced 

 at this unhoped-for light breaking in upon us, that it 

 baffles description, and it nearly baffled the hounds as 

 well. They were soon, however, out of the hurly burly j 

 although the fox had gained a considerable distance by 

 it. Now came the tug of war, for he was as game an 

 old fox as ever wore brush. Down went the hounds* 

 sterns and up went their heads, as, catching the scent, 

 they dashed over the fence, running as if they could see 

 him. " Now, gentlemen, ride, ride as hard as you like, 

 for they will have him in ten minutes." 



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