162 HUNTING IN THE MIDLANDS 



judgment in any point of equine detail. Hint to 

 your friend, who is possessed with the idea that he 

 is an authority upon the manners and customs of 

 foxes in general, and upon those of any one neigh- 

 bourhood in particular, that there exists a chance 

 of his fallibility, and he will resent the insinuation 

 as a mortal slight. Jem Pike had his duty to do to 

 the pack and to his employers, and he steadfastly 

 refused to be guided or misguided by amateur advice. 

 So, at Jem's sweet will, we jogged on from Brank- 

 some Bushes to Jarvis Spinney, and at Jar vis 

 Spinney the object of our quest was obtained. 



'Tis a pretty sight, the find and the throw off. You 

 see a patch of gorse literally alive with the hounds, 

 their sterns flourishing above its surface. Some- 

 thing has excited them, and there *' the beauties " 

 go, leaping over each other's backs. Then issues a 

 shrill kind of whimper: in a moment one hound 

 challenges, and next another. Then from the hunts- 

 man comes a mighty clieer that is heard to the 

 echo. " He's gone," say half a score of voices. 

 Hats are pressed on, cigars thrown away, reins 

 gathered well up, and lo and behold they are ofil 

 A very fair field we were on the particular morning 

 to which I here allude. The rector, I noticed, who 

 had merely come to the meet, was well up with the 

 first of us. Notwithstanding remonstrances addressed 



