MOTHER HUNT 



107 



Jesus Lane, attired in old " 30 bob " and a dilapidated pair of beagle 

 shoes? But I suppose home influences have done it, as after his marriage 

 a slow but steady improvement in appearances and dress took place ! 



It was Hunt's custom on Sunday afternoons to go up to the 

 Kennels and have a look round, and he was 

 generally accompanied by a band of keen 

 beaglists. 



On one of these occasions I had a party 

 to lunch which included among them, I 

 think, Barclay, Hunt, and a freshman (Hard- 

 castle) and others. My rooms then were at 

 the top of 26 Jesus Lane, and we went out 

 in twos and threes up the Lane. I was last 

 but one, and Hardcastle still upstairs. When 

 I was a few yards outside the door, which 

 had two steps up to the entrance passage, in 

 which was an enormous bowl of goldfish, the 

 leading pair had got to the passage to the 

 A.D.C., round the corner came the Proctor, 

 Howard. We all turned and fled but, instead 

 of running down the lane, my door being 

 open, like a rabbit, and with as much sense 

 as that furry quadruped, with head down I 

 bolted into the house, meeting Hardcastle in 

 the doorway with my head in his stomach. 

 Down he went on his back and the rest of the 

 crowd on top in a heap. We all struggled up, 

 leaving Hardcastle gasping on his back and the Proctor standing on 

 the pavement. In our struggle for the stairs we collided with the 

 goldfish and down they went. In a few minutes Hardcastle came up 

 and said the Proggins would like to see us, so down we went. The 

 passage was strewed with trampled billy cocks (caps, like silver in 

 Solomon's days, being accounted of no value in those times), and Mrs. 

 Kempton, my landlady, and daughter pursuing goldfish, which were 

 flapping on the floor, with a fire-shovel and depositing them in a 

 bucket. The Proctor asked our reason for being out without the 



Sunday Afternoon. 



Off to the Kennels. 



Represents a beagler of the 'nineties. 



By C. P. T. H. 



