A SPORTING TRIP TO FRANCE. 207 



which, I opine, is always a bad plan, and not 

 genuine hunting, they pulled him down in an 

 open glade of the forest. 



The little doctor was enchanted, and declared 

 he had never seen such capital sport in his life 

 before. He wanted to get rid of his gun, but as 

 no one would take it, he was obliged to sling it 

 with a bit of cord at his back. We commenced 

 trying for another, when, coming down one of 

 the rides, what should we see but an old sow, 

 followed by a dozen two months old squeakers 

 (marcassins). The doctor " grew paler and 

 paler," as she came down full tilt towards us. 

 "We quickly pulled aside to let her pass, but the 

 doctor's cob, a rusty, hard-mouthed, sulky brute, 

 refused to budge an inch. In vain we halloaed 

 to him to get out of the way. He was 

 tugging violently at his gun, but it was so 

 fastened he could not undo it. 



The pony slewed half round, the sow and the 

 pigs ran between its legs, and in. the mdlee pony 

 and rider kissed mother earth. However, there 

 was no damage done, so we soon picked up the 

 bits, and remounted him. A nip of brandy put 

 him to rights, we soon found another brocard, and 



