to go on, and he crossed the turnpike close by Ashby Church. I
saw him cross, and the hounds were then full five minutes behind
him. He went through Frolic Wood, but he didn't hang a minute,
and right up the pastures to Morley Hall." "That's where I was
thrown out," says the unfortunate who had boasted before, and who
is still disposed to boast a little. But our philosopher assures
him that he has not in truth been near Morley Hall; and when the
unfortunate one makes an attempt to argue, puts him down
thoroughly. " All I can say is, you couldn't have been there and
be here too at this moment. Morley Hall is a mile and a half to
our right, and now they're coming round to the Linney. He'll go
into the little wood there, and as there isn't as much as a
nutshell open for him, they'll kill him there. It'll have been a
tidy little thing, but not very fast. I've hardly been out of a
trot yet, but we may as well move on now." Then he breaks into an
easy canter by the side of the road, while the unfortunates, who
have been rolling among the heavy-ploughed ground in the early
part of the day, make vain efforts to ride by his side. They keep
him, however, in sight, and are comforted; for he is a man with a
character, and knows what he is about. He will never be utterly
lost, and as long as they can remain in his company they will not
be subjected to that dreadful feeling of absolute failure which
comes upon an inexperienced sportsman when he finds himself quite
alone, and does not know which way to turn himself.

A man will not learn to ride after this fashion in a day, nor yet
in a year. Of all fashions of hunting it requires, perhaps, the
most patience, the keenest observation, the strongest memory, and
the greatest efforts of intellect. But the power, when achieved,
has its triumph; it has its respect, and it has its admirers. Our