their way among the laurels
and evergreens, in the direction of Mr. Watchorn's house; he having a house
and grass for six cows, all whose milk, he declared, went to the puppies
and young hounds. Luckily, or unluckily perhaps, Mr. Watchorn was at home,
and was in the act of shaving as Peter entered. He was a square-built
dark-faced, dark-haired, good-looking, ill-looking fellow who cultivated
his face on the four-course system of husbandry. First, he had a bare
fallow--we mean a clean shave; that of course was followed by a full crop
of hair all over, except on his upper lip; then he had a soldier's shave,
off by the ear; which in turn was followed by a Newgate frill. The latter
was his present style. He had now no whiskers, but an immense protuberance
of bristly black hair, rising like a wave above his kerchief. Though he
cared no more about hunting than his master, he was very fond of his red
coat, which he wore on all occasions, substituting a hat for a cap when
'off duty,' as he called it. Having attired himself in his best scarlet, of
which he claimed three a year--one for wet days, one for dry days, another
for high days--very natty kerseymere shorts and gaiters, with a
small-striped, standing-collar, toilenette waistcoat, he proceeded to obey
the summons.

'Watchorn,' said Sir Harry, as the important gentleman appeared at the
breakfast-room door--'Watchorn, these young (hiccup) gentlemen want a
(hiccup) hunt.'

'Oh! want must be their master, Sir 'Arry,' replied Watchorn, with a broad
grin on his flushed face, for he had been drinking all night, and was half
drunk then.

'Can't you manage it?' asked Sir Harry, mildly.

''Ow is't possible. Sir 'Arry,' asked the huntsman, ''ow is't possible? No
man's fonder of 'untin' than I am, but to turn out on sich a day as this
would be a daring--a desperate violation of all the laws of registered
propriety. The Pope's bull would be nothin' to it!'

'How so?' asked Sir Harry, puzzled with the jumble.

'How so?' repeated Watchorn; 'how so? Why, in the fust place, it's a mortal
'ard frost, 'arder nor hiron; in the second place, I've got no arrangements
made--you can't turn out a pack of 'igh-bred fox-'ounds as you would a lot
of "staggers" or "muggers"; and, in the third place, you'll knock all your
nags to bits, and they are a deal better in their wind than they are on
their legs, as it is. No, Sir 'Arry--no,' continued he, slowly and
thoughtfully. 'No, Sir 'Arry, no. Be C