November's Joys 



is really better without that perhaps, but it would 

 be ungracious to refuse. A heavy fall after a 

 Hunt breakfast, however, is no laughing matter, 

 and I know of more than one man who had cause 

 to regret having partaken of a heavy meal some 

 threequarters of an hour before his horse tried 

 to roll him out like the proverbial pancake. 



At last, after giving considerable law to late- 

 comers because it is the opening day, a move 

 is made to the Laurels. Hounds find at once — 

 they always do — and now for some quarter of 

 an hour or twenty minutes there is plenty of fun 

 for the good folks in carriages and on foot. For 

 the Laurels, with an eye to this same Monday 

 in November, have not been cub-hunted. A 

 good fox or two slip away, but hounds are busy 

 with one in the shrubberies and in the park, 

 and finally they kill him in the open to the 

 great delight of our friends on wheels and on 

 foot. 



The brush is given to some golden-haired 

 little girl in a carriage or some budding 

 enthusiast on a pony ; and then the Master, 

 with thoughts of the more serious business of 



77 



