COMICALITIES OF THE HUNTING-FIELD 171 



a fretful, wilful, spiteful temper as ever fiend was 

 blest with ; he would not stand still an instant, and 

 was ever on the look-out for something to jump or 

 some animal to kick at. 



c " D n you, keep your own line," was shouted 



at me by every one alike. I seemed the equal terror 

 and amusement of the field, the Duke having made 

 them pretty well aware of my position and the 

 prowess to be looked for. 



c We found, and I thought my hour was come. 

 u Give him his head ! " roared his Grace ; " he 

 doesn't pull an ounce, goes like a shot ! " and, by 

 the Lord Harry, I did go like a shot ! The horse was 

 a magnificent jumper, and no man breathing could 

 help sitting him, he was such a complete master of 

 his work ; but, Lord, how he pulled ! I was abso- 

 lutely sick, the muscles of my arms came in lumps, 

 my fingers closed hermetically, as the learned say, 

 and, if we had not fortunately come to a check, I 

 must have fallen to the ground from sheer fatigue. 

 His Grace of Limbs was close alongside, looming 

 like a clover-stack on fire. " Sweet nag, isn't he," 

 remarked he. 



< " Very ! " said I, dismounting. " Now for your 

 promise, Duke; let us change." 



6 " With all my heart, old boy ! " said he ; " each 

 is so good that I never know till I have tried both 

 which I love best." 



' After taking up about a dozen holes in the stirrup- 



