JUajor Whyte JHelville 



jected rider can still bear witness to the exhaustive pro- 

 perties of that black adhesive soil, many a dirty coat and 

 stationary hunter rues the noble impulse that would follow 

 the fleeting pack over such a country as this after a three- 

 days' rain. 



Some of them begin to hope he may have entered the 

 thick holding covert of Naseby Thorns, and that the 

 conclusion of so rapid a burst may save their own 

 and their horses' credit. But a countryman on the 

 opposite hill is holloaing as if his throat must crack. Our 

 fox is forward still ; he has not a notion of entering the 

 covert, warmed as he is by the merry pace of the last 

 mile or so. 



* No occasion to lift them, Charles,' observes Mr. Villiers, 

 as he lends an ear to the far-off countryman, and points 

 to the streaming pack wheeling with every turn of the scent, 

 like pigeons on the wing. 



* Couldn't get near enough if there was. Come up, 

 horse ! ' mutters Charles in reply, as he bores through a 

 black close-cut hedge, sinking up to the hocks on the taking 

 off side. There is no chance of a check now ; and as the 

 professed Jester of the Hunt remarks, * If he don't stop 

 at Tally-ho, he may go on to Texas ! ' 



The field, that enterprising body whose self-depend- 

 ence is so touchingly illustrated at every sign-post, are 

 already somewhat hopelessly behindhand and considerably 

 puzzled by the coincidence of two safe practicable lanes, 

 leading equally in the direction of the line of chase. It 

 F 8i 



