d himself out from the group, and was the first to
reach the field. He immediately burst out into one of his usual hunting
energetic strains. "Oh Jonathan Griffin! Jonathan Griffin!" said he,
"here's a lamentable occurrence--a terrible disaster! Oh dear, oh
dear--we shall never get to Tunbridge--that unfortunate deer has escaped
us, and we shall never see nothing more of him--rely upon it, he's
killed before this." "Why, how's that?" inquired Griffin, evidently in a
terrible perturbation. "Why," said Jorrocks, slapping the whip down his
leg again, "there's a little girl tells me, that as she was getting
water at the well just at the end of the wood, where we lost him, she
saw what she took to be a donkey jump into a return post-chaise from the
'Bell', at Seven Oaks, that was passing along the road with the door
swinging wide open! and you may rely upon it, it was the deer. The
landlord of the 'Bell' will have cut his throat before this, for, you
know, he vowed wengeance against us last year, because his wife's
pony-chaise was upset, and he swore that we did it." "Oh, but that's a
bad job", said the huntsman; "what shall we do?" "Here, Tom," calling to
the whipper-in, "jump on to the Hastings coach" (which just came up),
"and try if you can't overtake him, and bring him back, chaise and all,
and I'll follow slowly with the hounds." Tom was soon up, the coach
bowled on, and Jonathan and the hounds trotted gently forward till they
came to a public-house. Here, as they stopped lamenting over their
unhappy fate, and consoling themselves with some cold sherry negus, the
post-chaise appeared in sight, with the deer's head sticking out of the
side window with all the dignity of a Lord Mayor. "Huzza! huzza! huzza!"
exclaimed Jorrocks, taking off his hat, "here's old Tunbridge come back
again, huzza! huzza!" "But who's to pay me for the po-chay," said the
driver, pulling up; "I must be paid before I let him out." "How much?"
says Jonathan. "Why, eighteen-pence a mile, to be sure, and three-pence
a mile to the driver." "No," says Jorrocks, "that won't do, yours is a
return chay; however, here's five shillings for you, and now, Jonathan,
turn him out again--he's quite fresh after his ride--and see, he's got
some straw in the bottom."

Old Tunbridge was again turned out, with his head towards the town from
whence he took his name, and after a quarter of an hour's law, the pack
was again laid on. He was not, however, in very good wind