Tom's face for applause, ventures to send forth a long-drawn howl,
which, coupled with Tom's screech, setting the rest agog, away they all
go, like beans; and the wind, fortunately setting towards Westerham,
bears the melodious sound to the delighted ears of our "roadsters," who,
forthwith catching the infection, respond with deafening shouts and
joyous yells, set to every key, and disdaining the laws of harmony.
Thus, what with Tom's horn, the holloaing of the whips, and the shouts
of the riders, a very pretty notion may be formed of what Virgil calls:

"Clamorque virûm, clangorque tubarum."

A terrible noise is the result!

At the end of nine minutes or so, the hounds come to fault in the
bottom, below the blacksmith's, at Crown Ash Hill, and the fox has a
capital chance; in fact, they have changed for the blacksmith's tom cat,
which rushed out before them, and finding their mistake, return at their
leisure. This gives the most daring of the field, on the eminence, an
opportunity of descending to view the sport more closely; and being
assembled in the bottom, each congratulates his neighbour on the
excellent condition and stanchness of the hounds, and the admirable view
that has been afforded them of their peculiar style of hunting. At this
interesting period, a "regular swell" from Melton Mowbray, unknown to
everyone except his tailor, to whom he owes a long tick, makes his
appearance and affords abundance of merriment for our sportsmen. He
is just turned out of the hands of his valet, and presents the very
beau-ideal of his caste--"quite the lady," in fact. His hat is stuck on
one side, displaying a profusion of well-waxed ringlets; a corresponding
infinity of whisker, terminating at the chin, there joins an enormous
pair of moustaches, which give him the appearance of having caught the