''it is our opening day." 53 



a liound reflecting, drawing deductions, abandon- 

 ing one idea and adopting another, and finally- 

 giving up to seek the advice of his friend the 

 huntsman ; but hounds do all this. 



The room, however, begins to empty, and a 

 move is made towards the busy scene on the 

 grass, where mounted and dismounted men 

 patrol to and fro, and a number of carriages add 

 liveliness to the picture. The master is in the 

 saddle, and it is time to find our horses and 

 follow the procession, especially as the legend of 

 a fox in the neighbouring field has been discussed 

 in the hall. The horses are fresh as we pass 

 through the park, cross the road, and get on to 

 the downs beyond. The steeplechaser, ridden by 

 a famous jockey, begins to kick, which much 

 amuses his rider, and would amuse me if I had 

 time to look on, but a horse galloping by sets 

 my animal off, and I am over a stubble field and 

 about half a mile of down uncomfortably dotted 

 with rabbit holes before I can get an effectual 

 pull. 



It was about here that the fox is reported to 

 have been seen, but though for one moment our 

 hopes are raised, nothing comes of it. He is not 

 at home, and does not appear to have been here 

 lately, so the hounds are trotted off to a wood 

 on the brow of a neighbouring down. As we file 



