_Morning._--Am aroused by PENDELL, who is always fresh. "Lovely morning," he says, opening the curtains. [_Note._--When you're only one quarter awake there's something peculiarly obtrusive in any remark about the beauty of the day. To a person comfortably in bed and wishing to remain there, the state of the weather is comparatively uninteresting, unless it's dismally foggy or thoroughly rainy, when, in either case, you can congratulate yourself upon your cleverness and forethought in not having got up.] "Is it?" I ask. Through the window I see only mist and drizzle. "Just the morning for otter-hunting!" exclaims PENDELL, enthusiastically. Then, as he's leaving the room, he turns, and says, "O, by the way, I've just remembered that Old RUDDOCK'S pretty sure to be out with the hounds. He's great fun out hunting." This stirs me into something like exertion. Otters and RUDDOCK. RUDDOCK, during a check, setting the field in a roar. _At Breakfast._--"Um," says PENDELL, thinking over something as he cuts a ham, "we shan't want to take anything with us, because Old PENOLVER gives us lunch. He's a picture of an Old English Squire is PENOLVER. Quite a picture of a--um--yes----" here he apparently considers to himself whether he has given a correct definition of PENOLVER or not. He seems satisfied, and closes his account of him by repeating, "Yes--um--yes--an Old English Squire, you know--quite a character in his way," (I thought so,) "and you'll have pasties and cider." "Pasties!" I exclaim. The word recalls Bluff KING HAL'S time, the jollifications--by my halidame!--gadso!--crushing a cup, and so forth. Now I have the picture before me (in my mind's eye) of the Old English Squire, attended by grooms bearing pasties and flagons, meeting the Otter Hunters with spears and dogs. Good! Excellent! I feel that My Health will be benefited by the air of the olden time. And perhaps by the pasties. "Do any ladies come?" I ask. "Safe to," answers PENDELL, "last day of hunting--all the ladies out--sort of show meet, and lounge." Pasties, flagons, dames, gallants with lutes, and pages with beakers of wine. I am all anxiety to start. _The Drive._--Bleak, misty, sharp, dreary. I am in summer costume of flannels, intended for running. Hope we _shall_ have some running, as at present I'm blue with cold and shivering. _Six miles finished._--We get out at a tumble-down roadside inn. Three boys, each one lankier and colder-looking than the other, are standing together with their hands in their pockets, there being evidently among them a dearth of gloves. A rough man in a velveteen coat and leggings appears, carrying a sort of quarter-staff spiked. I connect him at once with otters. PENDELL returns his salute. This is the Huntsman. The three chilly boys are the Field. We are all shivering, and evidently only half awake. Is this what PENDELL calls a "show meet, and a lounge?"