LETTER XVI. 175 



change." Jim was off like a shot to his point. Descending 

 the hill, he caught sight of the fox taking a circuit round 

 its base, and, with his cap pointing in that direction, he 

 hallooed out, " Yonder he goes, but I'll beat him." Away 

 spurred Jim, cracking his whip as he went, with his head 

 turned towards the fox, and his cap sometimes held high 

 in the air, as much as to say " We shall have him now." 

 Cheering the hounds with my well-known cry when our 

 fox was sinking (and which was always a peculiar one at 

 such a crisis), their hackles rose, and the race began in 

 earnest. We rattled on for a couple of miles or so over 

 the open, when, viewing the fox running hard for the 

 ploughed land again, with his head now straight for the 

 large covert, which we were rapidly approaching, I saw 

 the time was come for a last effort. Riding, therefore, 

 to the head of the hounds, cap in hand, with a short 

 tally-ho or two, of which they well knew the meaning, 

 their heads were up in an instant for the rush, and catch- 

 ing sight of poor Slyboots, they ran into him at the first 

 hedge we came to, off the down, and killed him up 

 against an ash tree. 



All who were up expressed themselves highly gratified 

 at the run; but the reverend divine, who had been 

 thundering along on his big brown horse at a certain 

 distance, was not in the best humour with our stealing 

 such a quick march upon old Slyboots ; so he said, " I 

 suppose you call that fox-hunting ?" " Something like 

 it, I should imagine," was my reply. "But, pray. Sir, 

 what may you be pleased to call it ?" " I call it. Sir, fox 

 murdering !" " Very well," I said, *' every man to his 

 taste, but I can give you chapter and verse for my pro- 

 ceedings. Beckford, who is considered pretty good 



