An Evening in July 



events of the past season, and as one of them 

 said afterwards they soon killed twenty brace 

 of foxes. 



To an outsider, a man who simply sees the 

 gallop, and who is accustomed to hearing hunt- 

 ing discussed from the standpoint of the riding 

 man, this part of the conversation comes as a 

 revelation. The ordinary phrases in which he 

 hears a run described and commented upon are 

 wanting. No one mentions that he or anyone 

 else made a good jump ; the riding part of the 

 sport is simply taken as a matter of course. Our 

 privileged friend, who, to do him justice, goes 

 rather well to hounds, is surprised when he 

 hears one of the huntsmen, describing a run in 

 which he himself took part, say not a word 

 about the fine jump he made over a wide brook 

 with rotten banks. It was taken as all in the 

 day's work. " It was an awkward check at the 

 Fordwell Brook," said he, " and I was a bit 

 puzzled. There were so many things a fox 

 might have done. He might have slipped down 

 the brook and gone to ground in those strong 

 rabbit earths, or he might have gone up the 



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