Great was the emulation when any of these were approached, and the
rasping sportsmen rushed eagerly to the "fore." At last they approach
"Miss Birchwell's finishing and polishing seminary for young ladies,"
whose great flaring blue-and-gold sign, reflecting the noonday rays of
the sun, had frightened the fox and caused him to alter his line and
take away to the west. A momentary check ensued, but all the amateur
huntsmen being blown, Tom, who is well up with his hounds, makes a quick
cast round the house, and hits off the scent like a workman. A private
road and a line of gates through fields now greet the eyes of our
M'Adamisers. A young gentleman on a hired hunter very nattily attired,
here singles himself out and takes place next to Tom, throwing the
pebbles and dirt back in the eyes of the field. Tom crams away, throwing
the gates open as he goes, and our young gentleman very coolly passes
through, without a touch, letting them bang-to behind him. The
Yorkshireman, who had been gradually creeping up, until he has got the
third place, having opened two or three, and seeing another likely to
close for want of a push, cries out to our friend as he approaches, "Put
out your hand, sir!" The gentleman obediently extends his limb like the
arm of a telegraph, and rides over half the next field with his hand in
the air! The gate, of course, falls to.

A stopper appears--a gate locked and spiked, with a downward hinge to
prevent its being lifted. To the right is a rail, and a ha-ha beyond
it--to the left a quick fence. Tom glances at both, but turns short,
and backing his horse, rides at the rail. The Yorkshireman follows, but
Jorrocks, who espies a weak place in the fence a few yards from the
gate, turns short, and jumping off, prepares to lead over. It is an old
gap, and the farmer has placed a sheep hurdle on the far side. Just as
Jorrocks has pulled that out, his horse, who is a bit of a rusher, and