THE NEW YEAR IN. 119 



beyond, ere the readiest Iiorsemen liad dipped the first 

 valley. Tlic bridle road to AVartnaby took hounds and 

 men together for the first half-mile, and tempted many a 

 rider too far along its ready path. 



Ye gods, how they fly ! The mottled pack, now run- 

 ning in a broad mass, is skimming up the second grass 

 field in front ; we are crowding through a gateway, into 

 a rough meadow that is built for anything but rapid 

 galloping. But spurs must go in, knees must press, and 

 liorses must be driven hard — whether those wet green 

 furrows are as boggy as they look, whether the grass- 

 hidden grips can catch us in the stride, or even if the 

 effort is at the cost of wind and streno-th. The Duke of 

 Portland is the only man within close hail of the pack ; 

 and is making the best of such a chance on his good bay 

 mare (the plum of Mr Younger's recent sale). The 

 fences are just what they should be when good turf leads 

 up to their feet, viz., broad, strong, fair and clean. They 

 come easy now, with the last hound flicking through 

 each, as we skim the one before, with never a moment 

 for the veriest coward to funk or crane. How" long this 

 may last we know not. Suffice it that we conjure no- 

 thin cr better for the seventh — or seventeenth heaven. 

 There are some awkward ravines and gullies in this 

 happy district, we know only too well — and the Wartna- 

 by Bottom has been a terror and a hindrance to genera- 

 tions. Here it is, by all that's disappointing and terrify- 

 inir — with its black fence frowniu:2: and its brookbanks 

 yawning. But again do fox and hounds of themselves 

 help us in dire extremity. AVe knew of no bridge or 



