He was a dear creature upon whom I sat, but it was not easy to
draw upon his back, for every now and then his two ears would
cock, and he would start and quiver with impatience. At first I
could not understand this trick of his, but soon I observed that
he only did it when a peculiar noise--"yoy, yoy, yoy"--came from
somewhere among the oak woods beneath us. And then suddenly this
strange cry changed into a most terrible screaming, with the
frantic blowing of a horn. Instantly he went mad--this horse.
His eyes blazed. His mane bristled. He bounded from the earth
and bounded again, twisting and turning in a frenzy. My pencil
flew one way and my note-book another. And then, as I looked
down into the valley, an extraordinary sight met my eyes.

The hunt was streaming down it. The fox I could not see, but the
dogs were in full cry, their noses down, their tails up, so close
together that they might have been one great yellow and white
moving carpet. And behind them rode the horsemen--my faith, what
a sight! Consider every type which a great army could show.
Some in hunting dress, but the most in uniforms: blue dragoons,
red dragoons, red-trousered hussars, green riflemen,
artillerymen, gold-slashed lancers, and most of all red, red,
red, for the infantry officers ride as hard as the cavalry.

Such a crowd, some well mounted, some ill, but all flying along
as best they might, the subaltern as good as the general,
jostling and pushing, spurring and driving, with every thought
thrown to the winds save that they should have the blood of this
absurd fox! Truly, they are an extraordinary people, the
English!