70 THE BEST OF THE FUN 



where his horse could go through, and, having spotted it, 

 naturally went for it with due rapidity, lest some other 

 should get there before him. The mare, following the 

 fresh-made bullock-tracks, shot through, as a hare through 

 a smeuse. He was retained, preserving connection with 

 his hunter only by the delicacy of her mouth and the 

 length of her crupper, which allowed him to remain 

 seated just ahead of her tail, while with his hands he 

 tore asunder the network of thorn that enveloped his 

 only remaining hat and face. He tells me that for the 

 rest of the day he fairly wept blood, that his hat has gone 

 to spend the frost on the block, and that he holds himself 

 to have been very inconsiderately treated, as he points to 

 his face to witness. 



Hardly so badly treated, perhaps, as another of his 

 clique. What say you ? This latter, being born a poet 

 rather than a soldier, does not affect the style of collar 

 that supports our chin during the fatigues of mufti 

 parade. The classical, unmilitary collar is — like a top- 

 boot that has been too frequently ministered by an in- 

 different valet — apt to leave a slot in front of the wearer's 

 throat. There has been little or no mud flying about 

 lately, during this barren, nor'-westerly, inexplicably ill- 

 scenting weather. But earth and gravel are frequently 

 kicked up by the galloping hoof, and a large lump of 

 these was thus flung right into the poet's slot. Do what 

 he would, the intruding morsel had disappeared before he 

 could stop it ; and as the run went on it grated its way 

 downwards till his silken undervest became a very hermit's 

 shirt of torturing discomfort. Worst of all, a pebble had 

 been included in the intruding mass, and before the fox 

 was killed he was riding on that pebble. No help for it, 

 and home he went, riding delicately. Far be it from me 

 to suggest how others should dress ; but, for my own part, 

 with this sad example in mind, I shall cling steadfastly 

 to the lofty, protective stock that belongs to military 

 antiquity. 



One of my yearly blows, irrespective of such casual 

 slaps in the face as Destiny may deal one, is contained 

 in the parting with my hound puppies. The lambs are 



