194 THE FIRST DAY OF THE SEASON 



greater zest as it were to the opening day, One or 

 two woodland runs, just sufficient to breathe the 

 well-trained hunter or take the exuberant spirits 

 (the accompaniments of high feeding and no work) 

 from the young one, after a stripling Eeynard, who 

 as yet has no line of country of his own, and 

 hardly dares to venture far from the place of his 

 birth, ending with a kill just to blood the young 

 hounds, only makes the longing for the first day of 

 the season more intense. 



Not one of her Majesty's subjects throughout her 

 vast dominions — so vast indeed are they that, 

 as the song tells us, " the sun never sets on 

 them " — not one, I say, of her Majesty's lieges 

 looked forward more anxiously than I did to the 

 first day of the hunting season of 18 — , for why 

 should I be too explicit about dates, or let all the 

 world know that I am so ancient as to remember 

 anything so long buried in the past ? I had just 

 returned to old England with a year's leave from 

 my regiment, then in India. I was possessed of 

 capital health and spirits, was only just six-and- 

 twenty years of age, had five hundred pounds at 

 my bankers, and two as good nags in my stable as 

 ever a man laid his le^ across. " Huntins: for 

 ever ! " I cried, as I strolled into Seamemup and 

 Bastemwell's, the unrivalled breechesinakers' estab- 



