LETTER XVIII. 193 



out." '* So mucli the better, farmer, we shall run the 

 harder." "You do know a wrmkle or two in the parts 

 you come from about catching foxes, and no mistake." 



My hat being now held up, Jim raised his cap also in 

 answer to my signal, and jumped upon his horse away 

 from the other end of the drain. The smoke having no 

 vent above, forced its way down to the lower end, when 

 Jim pulling away the sods, out came the brimstone va- 

 pour, and in a trice Mr. Wiley also made his exit, in a 

 terrible fluster. Into the pond he dashed, and when 

 through on the other side, Jim's shriek made him jump 

 off his legs. " Hold hard a minute, gentlemen, let the 

 hounds settle to the scent." It was useless ; I might as 

 well have spoken to the winds ; away they went, hounds 

 and horses, pell-mell together, but fortunately there was 

 a stiff white-thorn hedge before us, which was a stopper 

 to many. The first flight, however, went over ; then 

 came the scramble with the craners and thrusters. Old 

 Dunbar took his line upon a long-legged thorough-bred, 

 for an easy place, to which the eyes of a sporting chemist, 

 mounted upon a nondescript sort of an animal — with a 

 carcass like a weasel, and a head like a fiddle — had been 

 also directed. These two, bent upon the same gap, 

 formed a junction at acute angles, just as they reached 

 the fence. The shock was electrifying to the small che- 

 mist, who was shot out of his saddle like the cork of one 

 of his soda water bottles, and went flying into the next 

 field. ** My eyes !" quoth the farmer, " little Mr. Mixum 

 is shot into the next parish. What a purl !" «' Oh dear, 

 oh dear," cried another in the ditch, *' pull my horse off, 

 he's breaking my leg." " Hold hard. Doctor H.," said 

 the farmer, " there's a job for you." " Lie still a bit, I'll 



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