This was George Vavasor, who was going well, without any symptom of distress.
And now they were at Claydon's, having run over some seven miles of ground in about thirty-five minutes.

To those who do not know what hunting is, this pace does not seem very extraordinary; but it had been quite quick enough, as was testified by the horses which had gone the distance.

Our party entered Claydon's Park at back, through a gate in the park palings that was open on hunting days; but a much more numerous lot was there almost as soon as them, who had come in by the main entrance.

This lot was headed by Sir William, and our friend Maxwell was with him.
"A jolly thing so far," said Burgo to Maxwell; "about the best we've had this year." "I didn't see a yard of it," said Maxwell.

"I hadn't nerve to get off the first road, and I haven't been off it ever since." Maxwell was a man who never lied about his hunting, or had the slightest shame in riding roads.