A DAY WITH PUFFINGTON'S HOUNDS Day dawned cheerfully.

If there was rather more sun than the strict rules of Beckford prescribe, still sunshine is not a thing to quarrel with under any circumstances--certainly not for a gentleman to quarrel with who wants his place seen to advantage on the occasion of a meet of hounds.

Everything at Hanby House was in apple-pie order.

All the stray leaves that the capricious wintry winds still kept raising from unknown quarters, and whisking about the trim lawns, were hunted and caught, while a heavy roller passed over the Kensington gravel, pressing out the hoof and wheelmarks of the previous day.

The servants were up betimes, preparing the house for those that were in it, and a _dejeuner a la fourchette_ for chance customers, from without.
They were equally busy at the stable.