Even old Tom feels the effect of the glorious day, though he does anathematise the "stinking violets" as he rides to the closing meet at Fallow Field, and wonders "'ow in the name of all that's merciful t' hounds can work in cover with the 'nation primroses a-coming out." Still, he knows well that there has been such a thing before now as a real "buster" in April, and he looks approvingly on the surroundings, and mutters to himself that, "If t' sun wunna come out too strong, they may be able to do summat arter all." As the hounds move jauntily along, it is evident to the merest tyro that their condition is as nearly perfect as can be, and that the wear and tear of the past season has had but little effect on them. Indeed Tom is quite ready to go on the whole year round if it were possible; and as Harry rides after Belldame, whose spirits have got the better of her discipline (an old hare in the hedgerow having proved irresistible), he says: "Let t' ould bitch alone, Harry; 'er won't 'ave another chance this year, more's the pity; they mun do as they're a-mind to-day--till wa cum to business at all events." So Belldame saves her bacon, and the old hare having got clean off, she returns to her place looking somewhat crestfallen. Everybody in the country is at Fallow Field--men on horses of all sorts, shapes, and sizes. Even a donkey carries a living freight for the day, and is transformed into a "perfect fencer." Vehicles of every description are drawn up at the trysting-place, from the mail-phaeton and pair of steppers to the more humble conveyance of the costermonger. Those who can find nothing whereon they may ride are fain to turn out afoot, but turn out they do in scores; and no wonder, for in a country like Bullshire, where every man, woman, and child have the spirit of sport strong upon them, each one is bound to see the last day of the season, and if they cannot all hope to be in at the death, still they can see the hounds find and go away, which is more than half the battle, and will give food for conversation for many a week afterwards. Of course all our old friends are there. The Parson and Doctor ride up together, and receive quite an ovation from the foot-people; then shortly afterwards the popular Secretary arrives, and causes the usual commotion among the gentlemen in arrears with their subscriptions. The Simmses have joined old Tom and the hounds on the road, and their advent is the signal for a ringing cheer, which is quickly suppressed when Sir John is seen cantering up with Harold, Mrs. Talford, and the Colonel; the Major, with a heap more, bringing up the rear. Of course the Major has a deal of fault to find with everything, as usual; and, equally of course, the Boaster is spinning a yarn of his own prowess, and endeavouring to impress Mr. Betteridge with the idea that he is the only man of the hunt who has gone straight during the season.