SPORT IN SEASON. 101 



the voice of mine host sounded loudly over the banisters, 

 " Hey, Johnson ! Bring me my shaving-water at once, 

 and order me a train ! I'll hunt with Sir Bache." 



But about Friday afternoon last. The Quorn had for 

 once been out of luck. They had brought off only a slow 

 hunt from Scraptoft ; and had then, alas, chopped the 

 good Barkby fox in covert. In fact, the only amuse- 

 ment of the day had, at some considerable trouble and 

 no little risk to themselves, been generously furnished 

 to a circle of appreciative friends by two of the 

 best proved riders of our younger school. Tired of 

 inaction, they felt bound to do something to break the 

 monotony. How better than by breaking a top-binder ? 

 But anybody can jump a hedge. Anybody," however, 

 cannot light harmlessly on his feet at the foot of the 

 thorns, stopping a rushing horse in a single stride ! 

 Bravissimo ! Oh, but we can beat that easily. Houp-la ! 

 Over we go — the mare turns a summersault, so do we — 

 our patent stirrups describing a parabola and dropping 

 side by side twenty yards oif. A light, you wish, sir ? 

 Certainly, our horse is down, our stirrups they have 

 flown — and our cigarette has never left our lips ! 



The sole remaining chance of the day lay in the little 

 Gaddesby Spinney, whence the first bright gallop of the 

 season had dated. Out with the watch again ! Three 

 o'clock this time ! and the self-same fox I believe and 

 hope. Again he heads for Gaddesby ; and again we 

 troop into the road — no, not all ; for the huntsman, 

 Messrs. Beaumont, Baldock, Lambton, Gilson, and one 

 or two others ride the line of hounds fairly, and jump 



