other of whom was constantly 'baying him.' Lotion, though a sapient man,
and somewhat grinding in his practice, did not profess to grind old people
young again, and feeling he could do very little for the body corporate,
directed his attention to amusing Jackey's mind, and anything in the shape
of gossip was extremely acceptable to the doctor to retail to his patient.
Moreover, Jackey had been a bit of a sportsman, and was always extremely
happy to see the hounds--_on anybody's land but his own_.

So Lotion got primed with the story, and having gone through the usual
routine of asking his patient how he was, how he had slept, looking at his
tongue, and reporting on the weather, when the old posing question, 'What's
the news?' was put, Lotion replied, as he too often had to reply, for he
was a very slow hand at picking up information.

'Nothin' particklar, I think, sir,' adding, in an off-hand sort of way,
'you've heard of the greet run, I s'pose, sir?'

'Great run!' exclaimed the octogenarian, as if it was a matter of the most
vital importance to him; 'great run, sir; no, sir, not a word!'

The doctor then retailed it.

Old Jackey got possessed of this one idea--he thought of nothing else.
Whoever came, he out with it, chapter and verse, with occasional
variations. He told it to all the 'cousins in waiting'; Jackey Thompson,
of Carrington Ford; Jackey Thompson, of Houndesley; Jackey Thompson, of the
Mill; and all the Bobs, Bills, Sams, Harrys, and Peters, composing the
respective litters;--forgetting where he got it from, he nearly told it
back to Lotion himself. We sometimes see old people affected this way--far
more enthusiastic on a subject than young ones. Few dread the aspect of
affairs so much as those who have little chance of seeing how they go.

But to the run. The cousins reproduced the story according to their
respective powers of exaggeration. One tacked on two miles, another ten,
and so it went on and on, till it reached the ears of the great Mr.
Seedeyman, the mighty WE of the country, as he sat in his den penning his
'stunners' for his market-day _Mercury_. It had then distanced the great
sea-serpent itself in length, having extended over thirty-three miles of
country, which Mr. Seedeyman reported to have been run in one hour and
forty minutes.

Pretty good going, we should say.

CHAPTER X

THE FEELER

Bag fox-hunts, be they ever so good, are but unsatisfactory things; drag
runs are, b