holesome smell
of the newly-turned earth. I see the ragged, overgrown, straggling
fence at the far end, glistening with morning dew, and green with
formidable briers. I see Frank Lovell's chestnut rising at the weakest
place, the rider sitting well back, his spurs and stirrup-irons
shining in the sun; I see Squire Haycock's square scarlet back, as he
diverges to a well-known corner for some friendly egress; I hear
Cousin John's voice shouting, "Give him his head, Kate!" As White
Stockings and I rapidly approach the leap, my horse relapses of his
own accord into a trot, points his small ears, crashes into the very
middle of the fence, and just as I give myself up for lost, makes a
second bound that settles me once more in the saddle, and lands
gallantly in the adjoining field, Frank looking back over his shoulder
in evident anxiety and admiration, whilst John's cheery voice, with
its "Bravo, Kate!" rings in my delighted ears. We three are now
nearest the hounds, a long strip of rushy meadow-land before us, the
pack streaming along the side of a high, thick hedge that bounds it on
our left; the south wind fans my face and lifts my hair as I slacken
my horse's rein and urge him to his speed. I am alongside of Frank. I
could ride anywhere now, or do anything. I pass him with a smile and a
jest. I am the foremost with the chase. What is ten years of common
life, one's feet upon the fender, compared to five such golden minutes
as these? The hounds stop suddenly, and after scattering and spreading
themselves into the form of an open fan, look up in my face with an
air of mute bewilderment. The huntsman and the field come up, the
gentlemen in a high state of delight and confusion; but Mr. Tippler in
the worst of humours, and muttering as he trots off to a corner of the
meadow with the pack about his horse's heels,--

"Rode 'em slap off the scent--drove 'em to a check--wish she was at
home and abed and asleep, and be d----d to her!"

A grim old lady who has but one eye, and answers to the name of
"Jezebel," has threaded the fence, and proclaims in anything but a
sweet voice to her comrades, that she has discovered the line of our
fox. They join her in an instant, down go their heads in concert, and
away we all speed again, through an open gate, across a wide common,
into a strip of plantation, over a stile and foot-board that leads out
of it, and I find myself once more following Captain Lovell with
Cousin John alongside of me