"On the first day of the season, when the hounds met at home, there would be two hundred horsemen on our terrace, fifty of them, at least, in pink.

It was a regular holiday for all the country round.

Such horses, too.

My father's horse, the Elk, was worth three hundred pounds, and there were better horses than him to be seen in the field, I promise you." "And all after a poor little fox!" "You don't know Charley I can see," said Halbert.

"Poor little fox, indeed! Why, it's as fair a match between the best-tried pack of hounds in England, and an old dog-fox, as one would wish to see.