Such is the lot of men who hunt.
A man pays five or six pounds for his day's amusement, and it is ten to one that the occurrences of the day disgust rather than gratify him! One or two got in, and scrambled out on the other side, but Tufto Pearlings, the Manchester man from Friday Street, stuck in the mud at the bottom, and could not get his mare out till seven men had come with ropes to help him.

"Where the devil is my fellow ?" Pearlings asked of the countrymen; but the countrymen could not tell him that "his fellow" with his second horse was riding the hunt with great satisfaction to himself.
George Vavasor found that his horse went with him uncommonly well, taking his fences almost in the stride of his gallop, and giving unmistakeable signs of good condition.

"I wonder what it is that's amiss with him," said George to himself, resolving, however, that he would sell him that day if he got an opportunity.

Straight went the line of the fox, up from the brook, and Tom began to say that his master had been wrong about Claydon's.
"Where are we now ?" said Burgo, as four or five of them dashed through the open gate of a farmyard.
"This is Bulby's farm," said Tom, "and we're going right away for Elmham Wood." "Elmham Wood be d----," said a stout farmer, who had come as far as that with them.

"You won't see Elmham Wood to-day." "I suppose you know best," said Tom; and then they were through the yard, across another road, and down a steep ravine by the side of a little copse.