finds he does not know half as much about the hunt, or can tell half as
correctly where the game went, as our, quiet-going friend, whose hack
will probably go out on the following morning under the car, with the
mistress and children. Such a one was Parson Armstrong; and when Lord
Ballindine and most of the others went away after the hounds, he coolly
turned round in a different direction, crept through a broken wall into
a peasant's garden, and over a dunghill, by the cabin door into a road,
and then trotted along as demurely and leisurely as though he were
going to bury an old woman in the next parish.

Frank was, generally speaking, as good-natured a man as is often met,
but even he got excited and irritable when hunting his own pack. All
masters of hounds do. Some one was always too forward, another too near
the dogs, a third interfering with the servants, and a fourth making
too much noise.

"Confound it, Peter," he said, when they had gone over a field or two,
and the dogs missed the scent for a moment, "I thought at any rate you
knew better than to cross the dogs that way."

"Who crossed the dogs?" said the other--"what nonsense you're talking:
why I wasn't out of the potato-field till they were nearly all at the
next wall."

"Well, it may be nonsense," continued Frank; "but when I see a man
riding right through the hounds, and they hunting, I call that crossing
them."

"Hoicks! tally"--hollowed some one--"there's Graceful has it
again--well done, Granger! Faith, Frank, that's a good dog! if he's not