7S SKETCHES IN THE HUNTING FIEID. 



when he remembers it. Tourneymeade certainly does 

 not recognise his own animals when he sees them, a 

 circumstance with which his stud groom is perfectly 

 well acquainted. 



While we were chatting one day when I was out with 

 the Fallowfield a man rode up, a friend of Tourney- 

 meade, to inquire who that was on his chestnut mare. 



" Which mare ? " Tourneymeade asked. 



"Why the one I sold you last month. There she is ; 

 a fellow with a brown coat and leggings on her," he 

 answered ; " rum-looking little snob." 



" Can't be mine," Tourneymeade said; " I wanted to 

 ride her to-day, and asked Plaits if she could come out, 

 but he said she was lame ; though I don't know how 

 the deuce she came so, for I haven't ridden her for 

 three weeks." 



"Well, that's the mare I sold you, you may take your 

 oath," his friend continued. 



" Looks like her, don't it ? But of course it can't be." 



"All right, old fellow! I dare say it can't be — only 

 it is," the friend answered, riding off as he spoke. 



" It can't be one of my fellows got up like that r 

 Besides, the mare's wrong," Tourneymeade observed, as 

 we two galloped off, for hounds were now running ; and 

 it did seem improbable that the odd-looking personage 

 on the handsome chestnut should be mounted from the 

 Tourneymeade stable. 



His friend, however, whose curiosity was piqued, told 

 off his groom to keep an eye on the chestnut mare, and 



