are crape, was safe to have discarded
his upper garment, and to appear in his waistcoat and shirt-sleeves. A
wiry sweep, in the full uniform of his profession, was by far the most
respectable-looking personage of the lot. They clustered round the
pack, and seemed to make remarks, more or less sarcastic, amongst
themselves. As they opened out a little, I observed a very
aristocratic-looking old man, clad in most gorgeous apparel of scarlet
and gold, and seated on a remarkably handsome, powerful horse, long
and low, with great strength in small compass, and to all appearance
quite thoroughbred.

"That's the huntsman," said Mrs. Lumley, who kindly undertook to be my
cicerone, for she often enjoyed "a day with the Queen's," and was
quite at home here; "he'll be so glad to see me. We're great friends.
If you like, Kate, I'll introduce you."

I declined the honour as rather too public. "But," said I, "do tell me
who is in that green carriage with its back to us. Is it Prince
Albert?" Mrs. Lumley laughed.

"Not exactly, my dear," she replied; "that's the calf! Come a little
this way; and when they open the door we shall see him bounce out." So
we edged our horses off to a spot at which the foot-people were
already beginning to congregate, and sat there quietly anticipating
the "enlargement of the deer."

"What are we waiting for now?" I asked at length, when my patience was
nearly worn out. "Why don't we begin?"

"The Master of the Buck hounds, of course," replied my cicerone. "He's
not come yet. You know, Kate, it's a political appointment, and they
generally give it to somebody who hates hunting, and particularly
stag-hunting, more than anything; so, of course, he wisely comes as
late and goes home as early as he can. But this man is a good
sportsman and a thorough gentleman, and very fond of it too, so we
shall not have to wait much longer."

In fact, the words were hardly out of her mouth before a
carriage-and-four drove up containing three very gentleman-like,
good-looking men, "got up" to the utmost extent of hunting splendour,
and looking the very personification of that dandyism which
Melton engrafted upon London would be likely to produce. When they
were mounted, I am obliged to confess that those magnificent animals
made Brilliant himself look small. By this time there was great
excitement amongst the foot-people; and an official in gold lace, a
sort of mounted beadle, riding up with a heavy-thonged whip, cle