, and the
third _would_ have been, had he not been "turned over" by an
uncompromising flight of rails. Four London dealers and a young
Berkshire farmer were flourishing about, determined to show their
horses whilst they were fresh; the noble Master and his aristocratic
friends were pounding down a lane running parallel to the line of
chase. Mrs. Lumley was getting excited, and the Gitana reared straight
on end. Brilliant was fighting most disagreeably with his bridle, and
John nervously endeavouring to quiet our horses, and prevail on
ourselves to submit to his guidance. We _did_ follow him into the
lane; but here what a scene of confusion it was! Mild equestrians,
much at the mercy of their infuriated steeds; hot foot-people,
springing out of the way of the charging squadrons, and revenging
themselves for threatened annihilation by sarcastic jeers, not
altogether undeserved.

"Give me a lead, sir!" implored a good-looking light-weight--who was
evidently not in his usual place, and most anxious to get out of the
lane--to a fat, jolly old sportsman in a green coat and brass buttons
on a stiff bay horse.

"Certainly, sir," said the good-natured man; and turned his horse
short at the fence, closely followed by the gentleman he was so ready
to oblige. The bank was rotten and the bay horse unwilling. As might
have been expected, the green coat kissed mother earth, whilst his own
horse and his pursuer and his pursuer's horse rolled about on the top
of him in a most complicated game of all-fours. As they picked each
other up, I heard the fat man in green, much to my astonishment,
apologizing for the accident with the greatest _empressement_.

"A thousand pardons, my dear sir! How could I be so clumsy? It might
have been a most serious accident!" All of which excuses the
aggressor, as was to be expected, received with boundless affability
and good-humour. In the meantime we had a beautiful view of the run.
The hounds were still streaming away, two fields in front of every
one; the huntsman and the two officers going gallantly abreast in
their wake. One of them reminded me a little of Frank Lovell. The
noble Master, too, had cut in, and was striding along over every
obstacle; the London dealers had dropped somewhat in the rear, and the
farmer's horse was already completely sobered by the pace. The hounds
turned towards us. John entreated us to stop. They crossed the lane
under our horses' heads, and taking up the scent in th