SCIENCE OF FOXHUNTING. 43 



between nine and ten o'clock P.M., and ourselves 

 rarely any dinner at all, since we were too much 

 outdone to relish overdone meat. As long, how- 

 ever, as there was a chance of killing our fox, 

 however late found, we never thought of whipping- 

 off the scent ; and we have ridden, with Charles 

 Treadwell as our pilot, upon a white horse, when 

 we could see nothing else — barely the fences — 

 until w^e wound him up, or ran him to ground. 

 The adventures of one night in particular occur to 

 our memory just now. 



We had a good morning's work, killing our fox 

 handsomely, after a good run, and the majority of 

 our field went home perfectly satisfied. Two or 

 three funkers, who had seen nothing of it, and 

 came trotting in half an hour after the finish, in the 

 most unconcerned manner asked "if the day were 

 over." 



'' Oh ! no,'' we replied, " it is only three o'clock, 

 and if you will promise to ride after the hounds 

 this time, we will find you another fox." 



We ought not to have gratified these malcon- 

 tents — enough being as good as a feast on days 

 when hounds are a long way from home ; but our 

 monkey being up we trotted ofi* to draw again, 

 found very late, and had the run entirely to our- 

 selves. The shades of night were fast falling, but 

 the scent was good, and the hounds running hard 

 over a vale country. Our business was to keep as 

 near to them as possible — getting up to them on a 

 half-beaten horse being no easy matter — our first 

 whipper-in, Charles Treadwell (the second being 



