HUNTING AT BEIGHTON. 



" What are tlie wild waves saying, sister, the whole 

 day long ? '^ was the question that suggested itself to 

 Paul Dombey as he wandered listlessly along, listening 

 to the rippling waters as they broke on the beach at 

 Brighton. What the reply was I do not distinctly 

 remember, but had the query been addressed to me, I 

 should have answered, " Glad to see you here again ; 

 remember, we dine at eight. I have a young horse 

 I particularly want you to ride, and we are having 

 wonderful sport, both with the foxhounds and the 

 harriers/' Such at any rate, were the pleasant words 

 that greeted me as I bent my steps along the King's 

 Road shortly after my arrival at the queen of watering- 

 places. 



On the following morning the Southdown Fox- 

 hounds met at Erringham House, the residence of Mr. 

 Pearson, who, after a pleasant fashion, which is very 

 much in vogue in this hospitable locality, entertained 

 the field, numbering some eighty or ninety performers, 

 in a most liberal manner. Nor was such thoughtful 

 provision unneeded, for a dense fog hung over the 

 country, like the proverbial wet blanket, and it was 

 doubtfal, in fact, whether the hounds would be able 

 to hunt on the occasion. At any rate, it was thought 

 highly probable that, if a fox went away, the hounds 

 would very speedily be lost to sight, as it was impos- 



