"you know Tom, don't you?" "Why, I can't say I do, exactly," said he;
"but tell me, is he called Hills because he rides up and down these
hills, or is that his real name?" "Hought! you know as well as I do,"
said he, quite indignantly, "that Tom Hills is his name."

The hounds, with the majority of the field, having effected the descent
of the hills, were now trotting on in the valley below, sufficiently
near, however, to allow our hill party full view of their proceedings.
After drawing a couple of osier-beds blank, they assumed a line parallel
to the hills, and moved on to a wood of about ten acres, the west end
of which terminated in a natural gorse. "They'll find there to a
certainty," said Mr. Jorrocks, pulling a telescope out of his breeches'
pocket, and adjusting the sight. "Never saw it blank but once, and that
was the werry day the commercial panic of twenty-five commenced.--I
remember making an entry in my ledger when I got home to that effect.
Humph!" continued he, looking through the glass, "they are through the
wood, though, without a challenge.--Now, my booys, push him out of
the gorse! Let's see vot you're made of.--There goes the first 'ound
in.--It's Galloper, I believe.--I can almost see the bag of shot round
his neck.--Now they all follow.--One--two--three--four--five--all
together, my beauties! Oh, vot a sight! Peckham's cap's in the air, and
it's a find, by heavens!" Mr. Jorrocks is right.--The southerly wind
wafts up the fading notes of the "Huntsman's Chorus" in _Der Frieschutz_
and confirms the fact.--Jorrocks is in ecstasies.--"Now," said he,
clawing up his breeches (for he dispenses with the article of
braces when out hunting), "that's what I calls fine. Oh, beautiful!
beautiful!--Now, follow me if you please, and if yon gentleman in drab
does not shoot the fox, he will be on the hills before long." Away
they scampered along the top of the ridge, with a complete view of the
operations below. At length Jorrocks stopped, and pulling the telescope