Draghounds 117 



farmer Joskins is a terror of a man, and 

 objects " on principle " — though he doesn't 

 know what principle — to the drag coming 

 over his land, and has been persuaded to 

 allow it " for this occasion only," because it 

 is simply an impossibility for any one to re- 

 sist our Master's frank good-nature and per- 

 suasive eloquence. We jump the hurdles at 

 the far end, and emerge on to a stretch of 

 fine old turf. And now as we near the 

 finish, those who have any steam left in 

 their horses at once proceed to turn it on. 

 A bit of racing takes place, one flight of 

 sheep hurdles and a slenderly constituted 

 railing being " knocked to blazes," as our 

 irreverent second Whip calls it, on the way. 

 We pull up our blown and panting steeds, 

 and watch the " worry," as with a blast or 

 two on the horn our Huntsman (and Master) 

 fetches the paunch from the dragsman's cart, 

 and rewards the eagerly expectant hounds 

 with the nastiest conceivable morsels. Then, 

 after a short interval for rest, we light up 

 our cigars, and having thoroughly enjoyed a 



