CAPTAIN SHABBVHOUNDE 253 



brillancy to any scene — to a grand foxhunting ^««/^ as much as 

 to anything. All nature looks smiling and gay. There can be 

 nothing gaj'er or livelier than a well-grouped kill on a bright 

 day, in the middle of a large pasture like those about Naseb}-. 

 The led horses forming the outer circle, the dismounted red 

 coats mopping themselves on foot, the huntsmen, with uplifted 

 fox, in the middle of the baying pack, the echoing zvlioo 

 whoops of the whips, and ever and anon the unexpected 

 arrival of some unfortunate outcast brimful of excuses for 

 not being up. 



Such a scene was it on the day we have been describing.^ 

 The Squire was deli'ghted ! All the " ups " were rejoiced, even 

 the lagging lane and line riders were pleased with the country 

 they had passed through, and all joined in testifying their 

 unqualified approbation of the pack, and asserted their perfect 

 readiness to be continually going before the Lord Mayor to 

 make affidavit that Osbaldeston's were the " best hounds in 

 England ! " 



Who, we should like to know, ever hunted with a pack 

 that were not occasionally the best ? 



The Squire, seeing Mr. Milksop well up, and recollecting 

 that he was one of the unfortunate wights he had " blessed "' in 

 the run, most politely handed him the brush, with an 

 intimation that he had gone uncommonly well, and he was glad 

 they had had such a good day for his first. The stranger 

 having acknowledged the compliment, and tipped Jack Stevens 

 a sov., as Jem Bland used to call them, sought his led horse, 

 and brush in hand, retired from the field in quest of his own. 



We must now return to our friend Captain Shabbyhounde. 

 The Captain got Mr. Milksop's horse just in time, for the pace 

 they were going, and the loose way Mr. Milksop rode, would 

 have polished him off in another field or two. 



He was not the first tired horse the Captain had had through 

 his hands, by many ; indeed, the generality of his stud 



