I am not gifted with extraordinary fineness of ear, particularly when well wrapped up on a rainy day; so I turned down the collar of my greatcoat, and took off my shawl-handkerchief to listen. There was no doubt we were in the vicinity of hounds; I could hear them distinctly, running as it seemed with a good scent, and cheered by occasional blasts on the horn. The drizzling rain struck cold on my bare cheek. Kate’s head was up, her ears erect, her nostrils dilated, and she trembled in every limb. “Bother the rats for to-day!” exclaimed my mercurial charioteer. “What say you, Softly? Let’s go hunting instead. The mare can jump like fun, and the trap can go anywhere. Open the gate, there’s a good chap! In the next field but one there’s a bridle-road takes us right away to Tangler’s Copse.” I descended from the tall conveyance to do his bidding, dirtying my gloves, wetting my feet, and daubing my coat with mud in the process; but there is a condition of the human mind, at which it ceases to be a free agent, and I had arrived at that negative state, when we quitted the turnpike-road. Once more climbing with difficulty to my seat, I found myself bumping over the ridge-and-furrow of a large grass-field, and, straining my eyes to find an egress, became aware that it was the Jovial’s intention to drive through a sort of gap in the fence, where the ditch had been partially filled up. It was now time to protest, which I did loudly and energetically; but my objections were too late. “Sit tight, Softly! _Gently_, Kate!” exclaimed Plumtree in a breath; and with a bump, a jerk, and a most astounding bang against the splash-board, we were safe over, and careering along the next field. I was glad to see a gate led out of this enclosure. I would have climbed up and down those red wheels, fifty times, rather than repeat the process we had just now accomplished. Crafty Kate, shamelessly belying the first half of her name, seemed to enter thoroughly into the spirit of the thing, swinging along at a very respectable pace, with her ears cocked, her head and tail both up, and an obvious determination to join the chase with as little delay as possible. The vehicle sprang and jerked, and swung from side to side; the wheels bespattered us from head to foot with mud: the splash-board alone prevented us from shooting out, over the mare’s back. No one who has ever tried it will wish to repeat the uncomfortable diversion of galloping in a gig. Fortunately the rain began to cease, the clouds cleared away, and a burst of winter sunshine enabled us to see as far as the flatness of the country would allow.