388 



finding the door fast, he looked under the slate, and above the frame, 

 and inside the window, and on the wall for the key; and his shake 

 and kick, and clatter, were only answered by a full chorus from the 

 excited company within. 



" Hang the feller ! what's got 'im ! " exclaimed he, meaning Joe 

 Haggish, the feeder, whom he expected to find there. 



Joe, however, was absent ; not holiday-making, but on a diplo- 

 matic visit to Mr. Grreystones, the miller, at Splashford, who had 

 positively refused to supply any more meal, until his " little bill " 

 (430/.) for the three previous years was settled; and flesh being very 

 scarce in the country, the hounds were quite light and fit to go. Joe 

 had gone to try and coax Grreystones out of a ton or two of meal, on 

 the strength of its being New-Year's Day. 



" Dash the feller ! wot's got 'im ? " exclaimed Watchorn, seizing 

 the latch, and rattling it furiously. The melody of the hungry pack 

 increased. " ; Ord rot the door!" exclaimed the infuriated hunts- 

 man, setting his back against it, when, at the first push, open it flew. 

 Watchorn fell back, and the astonished pack poured over his prostrate 

 body, regardless alike of his holiday coat, his tidy tie, and toilenette 

 vest. What a scrimmage ! what a kick-up was there ! Away the 

 hounds scampered, towling and howling, some up to the flesh-wheel, 

 to see if there was any meat ; some to the bone-heap, to see if there 

 was any there ; others down to the dairy, to try and effect an entrance 

 in it ; while Launcher, and Lightsome, and Burster, rushed to the 

 back-yard of Nonsuch House, and were presently over ears in the 

 pig-pail. 



' : Get me my horn ! — get me my whop ! — get me my cap ! — get 

 me my bouts!" exclaimed Watchorn, as he recovered his legs, and 

 saw his wife eyeing the scene from the door. " Get me my bouts ! — 

 get me my cap ! — get me my whop ! — get me my horn, ivoman ! " 

 continued he, reversing the order of things, and rubbing the hounds' 

 feet-marks off his clothes as he spoke. 



Mrs. Watchorn was too well drilled to dwell upon orders, and 

 she met her lord and master in the passage with the enumerated 

 articles in her hand. Watchorn having deposited himself on an 

 entrance-hall chair — for it was a roomy, well-furnished house, having 

 been the steward's while there was anything to take care of — Mrs, 

 Watchorn proceeded to strip off his gaiters while he drew on his 

 boots and crowned himself with his cap. Mrs. Watchorn then 

 buckled on his spurs, and he hurried off, horn in hand, desiring her 

 to have him a basin of turtle-soup ready against he came in; adding, 

 " She knew where to get it." The frosty air then resounded with 

 the twang, twang, twang of his horn, and hounds began drawing up 

 from all quarters, just as sportsmen cast up at a meet from no one 

 knows where. 



" Tie-here, hounds — lie-here, good' dogs ! " cried he, coaxing and 



