282 FOX-HOUND, FOREST, AND PRAIRIE. 



pink belongs to better times. Readymoney Mortiboy has two- 

 coats a year. Joseph and his garments are out of fashion. 

 This is the decade of 1880 and you will please comport 

 yourselves and clothe yourselves accordingly on credit if need 

 be but in keeping with '87 still. 



A SCRATCH DAY FROM TOWN. 



IT seems to me that one day's story per week is alone more 

 than sufficient for a hunting writer and reading public how- 

 ever elastic may be Editor's indulgence and printer's capacity. 

 I have an invention half completed and have already cut off 

 my old horse's mane to admit of the instrument being carried 

 on my bows. This is defining it casually, for the invention is 

 as yet unpatented a combination of the typewriter and the 

 pedometer and is intended to mark passing events as they 

 occur, having a system of punctuation that shall, for instance, 

 mark an ordinary obstacle by a comma, a rasper by a semi- 

 colon, a severe peck by a note of exclamation, and, a cropper as- 

 a full stop. But, as I have said, this machine is not yet in 

 full work. 



Wednesday, Dec. 21. Pytchley at North Kilworth. Ti& 

 neither here nor there. But if ever life wears a gloomy aspect, 

 it is when London town is the starting point, and 6 a.m. the 

 call hour. Add to this a doubtful morning, and a still more 

 doubtful cab I'd sooner be a second whip. And his is no- 

 Sybarite's life, if I reckon it rightly Pytchley of course 

 excepted. 



A taste of the last cigar still lingers, long after Euston is left 

 behind. Papers won't interest war never broke out on a 

 hunting morning. All that is disagreeable in life comes to the 

 front in the chilly atmosphere of a railway carriage. I am a 

 monk. But as a matter of curiosity what are the sensations of 

 the man who has had a " bad night at baccarat " before he 

 embarks ? Ugh hot coppers are more bearable than heavy 



