sudden flash of heat he called to mind that the hounds met that
day just on the edge of his parish. The pa'son was one who dearly loved
sport, and much he longed to be there.

'In short, except o' Sundays and at tide-times in the week, Pa'son Billy
was the life o' the Hunt. 'Tis true that he was poor, and that he rode
all of a heap, and that his black mare was rat-tailed and old, and his
tops older, and all over of one colour, whitey-brown, and full o' cracks.
But he'd been in at the death of three thousand foxes. And--being a
bachelor man--every time he went to bed in summer he used to open the bed
at bottom and crawl up head foremost, to mind en of the coming winter and
the good sport he'd have, and the foxes going to earth. And whenever
there was a christening at the Squire's, and he had dinner there
afterwards, as he always did, he never failed to christen the chiel over
again in a bottle of port wine.

'Now the clerk was the parson's groom and gardener and jineral manager,
and had just got back to his work in the garden when he, too, saw the
hunting man pass, and presently saw lots more of 'em, noblemen and
gentry, and then he saw the hounds, the huntsman, Jim Treadhedge, the
whipper-in, and I don't know who besides. The clerk loved going to cover
as frantical as the pa'son, so much so that whenever he saw or heard the
pack he could no more rule his feelings than if they were the winds of
heaven. He might be bedding, or he might be sowing--all was forgot. So
he throws down his spade and rushes in to the pa'son, who was by this
time as frantical to go as he.

'"That there mare of yours, sir, do want exercise bad, very bad, this
morning!" the clerk says, all of a tremble. "Don't ye think I'd better
trot her round the downs for an hour, sir?"

'"To be sure, she does want exercise badly. I'll trot her round myself,"
says the parson.

'"Oh--you'll trot her yerself? Well, there's the cob, sir. Really that
cob is getting oncontrollable through biding in a stable so long! If you
wouldn't mind my putting on the saddle--"

'"Very well. Take him out, certainly," says the pa'son, never caring
what the clerk did so long as he himself could get off immediately. So,
scrambling into his riding-boots and breeches as quick as he could, he
rode off towards the meet, intending to be back in an hour. No sooner
was he gone than the clerk mounted the cob, and was off after him. When
the pa'son got to the meet, he fo