They were tall, stout young men, well mounted, and dressed in green and red, the uniform of a sporting association, formed under the auspices of old Sir Hildebrand Osbaldistone.--"My cousins!" thought I, as they swept past me.
The next reflection was, what is my reception likely to be among these worthy successors of Nimrod?
and how improbable is it that I, knowing little or nothing of rural sports, shall find myself at ease, or happy, in my uncle's family.

A vision that passed me interrupted these reflections.
It was a young lady, the loveliness of whose very striking features was enhanced by the animation of the chase and the glow of the exercise, mounted on a beautiful horse, jet black, unless where he was flecked by spots of the snow-white foam which embossed his bridle.

She wore, what was then somewhat unusual, a coat, vest, and hat, resembling those of a man, which fashion has since called a riding habit.

The mode had been introduced while I was in France, and was perfectly new to me.

Her long black hair streamed on the breeze, having in the hurry of the chase escaped from the ribbon which bound it.