132 MY FIRST DAY'S FOX-HUNTING 



" You're quite welcome," I was about to reply, 

 when I was interrupted by a coarse-looking lad, 

 whose spindle-like legs were covered with breeches 

 and gaiters. 



" I say, guv'nur," said he, " you rode your horse 

 over that there wall about as well as I'd a-rode 

 my mother's clothes-horse over ! — do it again, 

 do ! " 



The ladies could not refrain from laughter, in 

 which I made a miserable attempt at joining them ; 

 and then I tried to remount. But this was a diffi- 

 cult task ; for my legs were short, my horse's were 

 long, and his recent adventure had made him fid- 

 gety, and I was at last reduced to the necessity of 

 accepting an offer from the lad with the spindle legs 

 to give me a " leg-up." With his assistance (for 

 which I gave him sixpence, and I have no doubt he 

 threw his bad joke into the bargain) I managed to 

 scramble into the saddle again. As we rode to the 

 next cover I felt exceedingly sheepish, and the 

 unfeeling laughter of my cousins, added to the now 

 cool manner of Miss Trafford, and the quiet grimaces 

 of old Evans, the groom (who of course kept pretty 

 close to us), made me desperate, and I was deter- 

 mined to do something to recover my lost prestige, 

 even if the next day's Times had to record a " Fatal 

 accident in the hunting-field at Stonington." Emily 



