ISO SKETCHES IN THE HUNTING FIELD. 



" Sixteen, sir," Bill answered. 



" And you are going to be a gardener ? " Sir Henry 

 continued. 



" Yes, sir," Bill replied, not quite so readily, for his 

 eyes fell upon a rack in the corner where several 

 hunting-crops were laid, and on the chimney-piece was 

 a pair of spurs. The sight of these delightful imple- 

 ments, joined with a recollection of spades, rakes, and 

 watering-pots drew forth an irrepressible sigh. 



*' I am afraid you'll make a very poor gardener if you 

 pass all your time in running after my hounds." 



" Yes, sir ; but it's only now and then, and I'm so 

 fond of them, sir, and " Bill's apologies died away. 



"Where did you learn to ride. Heigh?" Sir Henry 

 asked. 



" I've ridden Kicking Peggy a good deal, sir, she's a 

 pony — and she kicks," Bill stammered. 



" Doesn't she kick you off? " 



" Yes, sir ; but — I — get on again," Bill humbly 

 replied, and a smile stole over Sir Henry's features. 



"Well, William, your father seems to be afraid that 

 you don't care much for his business, but he gives you 

 a good character, and I have sent for you to ask whether 

 you would like to come into my stables ? " 



Poor happy Bill paused before he could speak. Was 

 this a blissful dream, and would he be awakened in a 

 minute or two by paternal instructions to go and help 

 Johnson hoe something, take some bulbs to Smith, and 

 then weed the path in the west walk ? 



