out, began making an observation. "There he is, at last," cried he,
"just crossed the corner of yon green field--now he creeps through the
hedge by the fir-tree, and is in the fallow one. Yet, stay--that's no
fox--it's a hare: and yet Tom Hills makes straight for the spot--and
did you hear that loud tally-ho? Oh! gentlemen, gentlemen, we shall be
laughed to scorn--what can they be doing--see, they take up the scent,
and the whole pack have joined in chorus. Great heavens, it's no more a
fox than I am!--No more brush than a badger! Oh, dear! oh, dear! that I
should live to see my old friends, the Surrey fox'ounds, 'unt hare, and
that too in the presence of a stranger." The animal made direct for the
hills--whatever it was, the hounds were on good terms with it, and got
away in good form. The sight was splendid--all the field got well off,
nor between the cover and the hills was there sufficient space for
tailing. A little elderly gentleman, in a pepper-and-salt coat, led the
way gallantly--then came the scarlets--then the darks--and then the
fustian-clad countrymen. Jorrocks was in a shocking state, and rolled
along the hill-tops, almost frantic. The field reached the bottom, and
the foremost commenced the steep ascent.

"Oh, Tom Hills!--Tom Hills!--'what are you at? what are you after?'"
demanded Jorrocks, as he landed on the top. "Here's a gentleman come all
the way from the north-east side of the town of Boroughbridge, in the
county of York, to see our excellent 'ounds, and here you are running
a hare. Oh, Tom Hills! Tom Hills! ride forward, ride forward, and
whip them off, ere we eternally disgrace ourselves." "Oh," says Tom,
laughing, "he's a fox! but he's so tarnation frightened of our hounds,
that his brush dropped off through very fear, as soon as ever he heard
us go into the wood; if you go back, you'll find it somewhere, Mr.
Jorrocks; haw, haw, haw! No fox indeed!" said he.--"Forrard, hounds,
forrard!" And away he went--caught the old whipper-in, dismounted him in