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CHAPTEE 11. 



THE LEAF ON THE THORN. 



TJDAY, October 19.— A \vet chilly day that 

 '^ must have been detestable for grouse or part- 

 vJl^^vs j-'idge driving, impossible for covert shooting, 

 hateful at Sandown, and more miserable than all indoors. 

 Yet for foxhunting it was quite passable, even before the 

 vigour and comfort of the chase began. Afterwards, rain 

 mattered nothing, and cold had no place — in a glowing 

 frame and heart warmed to gladness. AVe shivered awhile 

 in the morning, and we shrank under tree shelter where 

 any was to be had — moved by the same instinct that turns 

 a terrier into an aspen leaf as readily when his skin is wet 

 in summer as on the coldest day in winter. For we are 

 sybaritisli still after our summer nothingness — have not 

 even arrived at the sensation of a new pink soaking out 

 its first rich beauty in clammy coldness down our ribs — 

 have not yet trudged homew^ard in tight stiff tops, as 

 Jamely as the good horse limpiug beside us. All things 

 -are by comparison — and a happy heart is it that keeps a 

 granary of ill memories for ready use in bettering the 

 present. There are drawbacks, possibly, to October 

 hunting ; but there are very many points in its favour. 



