“How fresh the old horse looks, John: none the worse for the Lilbourne day, when he carried your master so well!”
“Never was better, sir,” answers gratified John, with a touch of his hat; partly out of compliment to ourselves, partly out of respect for the good horse. Now we observe a scarlet group collected in a knot, where the hounds meet in the centre of the village, and the church clock points to five minutes before eleven, as we bid the cheery huntsman “Good-morning,” and exchange our hack for our hunter.
Mr. Sawyer probably felt very much the sort of sensations I have endeavoured to describe, as he dashed along on the free-going Dandy, in company with some of his new companions. If so, he kept them to himself. Our friend was a man of few words at the best of times; and when, as in the present instance, “big with high resolve,” taciturnity personified. Also, notwithstanding the want of the new boots, he had “got himself up” to-day with peculiar34 care. The result, I am bound to admit, was not entirely35 satisfactory; and, when that is the case, a man’s loquacity36 is apt to decrease in proportion. However, the roan, or “Hotspur,” as we must now call him, made a pretty good figure, as far as appearance went, even amongst a bevy37 of celebrated38 hunters, and his master felt a considerable accession of confidence when he found himself fairly mounted and ready for the fray39. Miss Dove, too, had arrived in company with her papa. There was no doubt about it: she did look remarkably40 well in her riding-habit.
Mr. Sawyer, a little nervous and rather ashamed of it, doffed41 the velvet42 hunting-cap, and rode up to accost43 her. I need scarcely observe that the young lady’s greeting was of the coldest and most reserved. The last time she had been all smiles and sunshine: so, on the principle of rotation44, to-day must be one of frigidity45 and decorum. It’s a way they have, you see; and one that seldom fails to put the inexperienced to utter confusion. A man cannot be said to know what the ague really is till he has suffered from the fits—both hot and cold. Take warning, John Standish Sawyer! you who have once before burnt your fingers, and had cause to dread46 the fire. Miss Mexico, with her quadroon stain and her thirty thousand pounds, was a queerish one to manage; but she was a fool to Miss Dove.
“Confound the girl! what does she mean by it?” said the humiliated47 swain to himself, as the hounds moved off towards the gorse. He felt a little disgusted, and not a little irritated: just in the humour that makes a man ready for a bit of excitement rather keener than ordinary. He thought he had never felt so like riding in his life before! With the natural instinct of one who knew himself capable of going in the first flight, the observant Sawyer proceeded to scan narrowly such of the surrounding sportsmen as looked to him like “meaning mischief48.” Out of a hundred riders it was not so difficult as might be supposed to pick a proportion of flyers, and the proportion, as my hunting readers will not dispute, was little over ten per cent. Shall I name them? Shall I add ninety enterprising and energetic gentlemen to the list of my mortal enemies? Heaven forbid that I should do anything so invidious and ill-advised! Mr. Sawyer did not know them, and why should I? Each of the hundred, doubtless, believed himself one of the chosen ten. I fancy that every man who goes out hunting thinks he only wants an opportunity to show his back to the rest of the field. I fancy that when the opportunity does come, he lets it slip in hopes of a better, and that no one attributes to want of nerve, horsemanship, or common sense, that failure, on which it would be no bad investment to offer each equestrian49 nine to one! Well, everybody has an equal chance on a fine scenting50 day, when the fox has slipped quietly away, by good fortune only seen by a countryman, with a quinsy, who couldn’t halloo to save his life. When the two or three couple of leading hounds have flashed a hundred yards or so over his line, thus enabling the body of the pack to join them, and stoop all together to the scent51, when after a cheery twang, the huntsman returns his horn to its case, and the master, relieved, for an instant, from the weight of care, which none but an M.F.H. knows, takes his place alongside of his favourites, and observes mentally, though he wouldn’t say it aloud for a thousand, “Now, my fine fellows, ride on their backs if you can!” In short, at that delicious moment when the wise bethink them of a fox’s point, and a convenient lane, and the enthusiasts52 glance exultingly53 at each other, and say, “All right, old fellow! I think we’re landed!” then hath each a fair field and no favour; and if a man’s hardihood, or his vanity, or his ambition, prompt him to assume a place in the front rank, he has nothing to do but go and try.
As Mr. Sawyer rode down to the gorse, he was pleased to feel Hotspur step so lightly and vigorously under him. The horse shook his bit, and cocked his ears, and reached at his bridle54 to get near the hounds. He felt like a good one, and we all know what confidence that sensation imparts to the rider. Mr. Sawyer forgot all about Miss Dove, and the unprovoked manner in which she had snubbed him. It was cheerful to hear one or two complimentary55 remarks exchanged between the passing sportsmen.
“That’s a clever horse,” said a tall heavy man, himself admirably mounted, indicating the roan with a nod, and addressing a supercilious56-looking person in a black coat, whose attention was much taken up with the appearance of his own legs and feet, which he was looking at alternately en profile.
“Rather,” answered the supercilious person, glancing up for an instant from his occupation—“Who’s the man? Never saw such a man; never saw such boots; never saw a fellow so badly got-up altogether.”
At this juncture57 the Honourable58 Crasher, cantering by on Topsy-Turvy, accosted59 our friend with good-humoured familiarity, and the supercilious man, changing his mind all in a moment, about Mr. Sawyer and his boots, resolved to take the first opportunity of making the stranger’s acquaintance. In effect he followed the last comer to prosecute60 this intention. The Honourable C. disappearing through a bullfinch, on Topsy-Turvy, whom he thus hoped to put in good-humour, was ere this in a field alongside of the hounds, which he was likely to have all to himself.
Soon a hand-gate stems the increasing cavalcade61, and the stoppage becoming more obstinate62, owing to Mr. Sawyer’s abortive63 attempts to open the same, a good deal of conversation, rhetorical rather than complimentary, is the result.
“Put your whip under the latch64,” says one.
“Got the wrong hand to it,” sneers65 another.
“What a tarnation muff!” vociferates a third.
“Ware heels!” exclaims a fourth, as a wicked little bay mare66, in the thick of them, lets out with unerring precision; and one man says, “What a shame it is to bring such a devil as that into a crowd!” and another opines that “The kick will be out of her before two o’clock!” and the owner, profuse67 in apologies, is only thinking of slipping through the gate, and going on to get a start.
Meanwhile Hotspur makes himself profoundly ridiculous, pushing the gate when the latch is down, and wincing68 from it when he ought to shove; also finding himself totally unassisted by the crook69 of his master’s whip, which keeps slipping on the wet green wood, waxes irritable70, rears up, and threatens to vary the entertainment, by performing a somersault into the next field.
“Let me do it for you, sir,” says a good-natured young farmer; and Mr. Sawyer wisely abandons his office of doorkeeper, and after about forty people have hustled71 by him, manages at last to edge his way through.
By this time the hounds have been put into the gorse. Nineteen couple are they of ladies, with the cleanest of heads and necks, straight and fair on their legs and feet as so many ballet-dancers, and owning that keen wistful look, which is so peculiar to the countenance72 of the fox-hound. They dash into the covert73 as if sure of finding, and Parson Dove, standing33 erect74 in his stirrups, watches them with a glow of pleasure lighting75 up his clean-shaved face. “There’s a fox, Charles, I’ll lay a bishopric!” says he, and a whimper from Truelove confirms the parson’s opinion on the spot.
“Not a doubt on it! sir, not a doubt on it! one if not a brace76!” replies that functionary77, with immense rapidity. He loses very little time indeed, at his phrases, or his fences, or anything else. In another moment he is up to his girths in the gorse, cheering on the beauties, who are working up the scent with a vast deal of musical energy. The master casts an uneasy glance at the crowd; countless78 anxieties and apprehensions79 cross his mind. One way the fox will be headed, another the hounds will be cut off, a third leads up to the village, and we all know how fatal are houses and pigsties80 at the commencement of a run. But the fourth side is clear; happily the hounds are even now bustling81 eagerly towards it.
Diverse occupations engross82 the attention of the field; few of them seem to be much taken up with the business in hand. Here a gentleman is giving a farmer’s horse a gallop, preparatory, as it would appear, to a purchase. There another is detailing the last news from Warwickshire, to an applauding audience. Struggles, on his feet, is adjusting a snaffle-bridle more comfortably on the head of a game little thorough-bred. Savage83 is discussing the merits of a new novel with a literary friend. Major Brush is taking up a link in Miss Dove’s curb-chain; that damsel, very killing84 indeed, in a little hat and feathers, is surrounded by admirers, and yet, lassata, nondum satiata, is inwardly regretting that she had snubbed poor Mr. Sawyer so gratuitously85 at the meet. You see, however low one may rate the value of his vassalage86, still a victim always counts for one; and it is a pity needlessly to throw away the veriest weed that helps to make up one’s chaplet. Truth to tell, Mr. Sawyer was not thinking about her. He had crept on, as he thought, unobserved, to a place from which he could command the proceedings87, and try to get a good start. Nevertheless, a watchful88 eye was on his movements. The master was even then deliberating whether he should holloa to him to “Come back, sir,” and was hoping in his own mind, “that chap in a cap wouldn’t go on, and head the fox!”
The Honourable Crasher and Topsy-Turvy had already fallen out, as to a cigar, which the former wanted to light. No! the mare would not stand still, and an impatient jerk at the curb-rein had not tended to adjust this difference. So she was backing and sidling and shaking her head, and making herself intensely disagreeable, whilst the Honourable, who soon recovered his equanimity89, scanned a certain stile just in front of her with a critical eye and employed himself by vaguely90 calculating how many yards before she came to it she was likely, in her present humour, to “take off;” also whereabouts he should land if they did make a mess of it, and whether more than two or three fellows would be on his back at once.
He has by no means solved the problem, when a violent rush is made towards the lane. Somebody has seen somebody else gallop, who has seen a sheep-dog run; this is a sufficient reason for some eighty or ninety horsemen to charge furiously in the same direction; their leaders finding no hounds, then pull up, and the crowd proceed leisurely91 back again. But this false alarm has been in favour of the fox, who perceiving a clear space before him, and having obtained, by a dexterous92 turn round the covert, a little law of his pursuers, takes advantage of the lull93, to slip away unobserved by any one but the first whip, and that officer is far too discreet94 to make a noise. He telegraphs mutely to the huntsman, who has the ladies out of covert, and dashing to the front, with three blasts of his horn. Ere the Honourable Crasher has had time to indulge Topsy-Turvy with a fling at the stile, which she jumps as if there was a ten-foot drain on each side, the pack are settled to the scent, and racing95 away a clear field ahead of every one but the huntsman and whip. The Honourable Crasher, however, is coming up hand-over-hand, Topsy-Turvy laying herself out in rattling96 form. The master, with a backward glance at the crowd, is alongside of him, and Mr. Sawyer, sailing over the first fence, in such good company, with a tight hold of his horse’s head, and an undeniable start, thinks he is “really in for it at last!”
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收听单词发音
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1
tinged
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| v.（使）发丁丁声( ting的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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3
fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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4
biding
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| v.等待，停留( bide的现在分词 )；居住；（过去式用bided）等待；面临 | |
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5
exude
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| v.(使)流出，(使)渗出 | |
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teeming
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| adj.丰富的v.充满( teem的现在分词 )；到处都是；（指水、雨等）暴降；倾注 | |
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7
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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vitality
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| n.活力，生命力，效力 | |
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veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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saturated
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| a.饱和的，充满的 | |
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softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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14
tints
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| 色彩( tint的名词复数 )； 带白的颜色； （淡色）染发剂； 痕迹 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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17
hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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18
dexterity
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| n.(手的)灵巧，灵活 | |
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plume
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| n.羽毛；v.整理羽毛，骚首弄姿，用羽毛装饰 | |
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hack
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| n.劈，砍，出租马车；v.劈，砍，干咳 | |
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gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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exuberance
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| n.丰富；繁荣 | |
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scour
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| v.搜索；擦，洗，腹泻，冲刷 | |
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magpies
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| 喜鹊（magpie的复数形式） | |
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ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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furrows
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| n.犁沟( furrow的名词复数 )；（脸上的）皱纹v.犁田，开沟( furrow的第三人称单数 ) | |
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30
trot
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| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
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congregated
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| （使）集合，聚集( congregate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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grooms
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| n.新郎( groom的名词复数 )；马夫v.照料或梳洗（马等）( groom的第三人称单数 )；使做好准备；训练；（给动物）擦洗 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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loquacity
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| n.多话，饶舌 | |
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bevy
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| n.一群 | |
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celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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fray
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| v.争吵；打斗；磨损，磨破；n.吵架；打斗 | |
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remarkably
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| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
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41
doffed
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| v.脱去，（尤指）脱帽( doff的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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42
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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43
accost
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| v.向人搭话，打招呼 | |
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rotation
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| n.旋转；循环，轮流 | |
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45
frigidity
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| n.寒冷；冷淡；索然无味；（尤指妇女的）性感缺失 | |
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46
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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47
humiliated
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| 感到羞愧的 | |
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48
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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49
equestrian
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| adj.骑马的；n.马术 | |
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50
scenting
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| vt.闻到（scent的现在分词形式） | |
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51
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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52
enthusiasts
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| n.热心人，热衷者( enthusiast的名词复数 ) | |
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53
exultingly
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| 兴高采烈地，得意地 | |
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54
bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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55
complimentary
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| adj.赠送的，免费的，赞美的，恭维的 | |
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56
supercilious
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| adj.目中无人的，高傲的；adv.高傲地；n.高傲 | |
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57
juncture
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| n.时刻，关键时刻，紧要关头 | |
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58
honourable
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| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
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59
accosted
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| v.走过去跟…讲话( accost的过去式和过去分词 )；跟…搭讪；（乞丐等）上前向…乞讨；（妓女等）勾搭 | |
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60
prosecute
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| vt.告发；进行；vi.告发，起诉，作检察官 | |
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61
cavalcade
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| n.车队等的行列 | |
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62
obstinate
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| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
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abortive
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| adj.不成功的，发育不全的 | |
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64
latch
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| n.门闩，窗闩；弹簧锁 | |
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sneers
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| 讥笑的表情（言语）( sneer的名词复数 ) | |
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mare
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| n.母马，母驴 | |
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profuse
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| adj.很多的，大量的，极其丰富的 | |
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68
wincing
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的现在分词 ) | |
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69
crook
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| v.使弯曲；n.小偷，骗子，贼；弯曲(处) | |
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irritable
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| adj.急躁的；过敏的；易怒的 | |
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71
hustled
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| 催促（hustle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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72
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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covert
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| adj.隐藏的；暗地里的 | |
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74
erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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75
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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76
brace
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| n. 支柱,曲柄,大括号; v. 绷紧,顶住,(为困难或坏事)做准备 | |
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77
functionary
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| n.官员；公职人员 | |
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countless
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| adj.无数的，多得不计其数的 | |
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79
apprehensions
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| 疑惧 | |
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pigsties
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| n.猪圈，脏房间( pigsty的名词复数 ) | |
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bustling
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| adj.喧闹的 | |
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engross
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| v.使全神贯注 | |
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83
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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84
killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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85
gratuitously
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| 平白 | |
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vassalage
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| n.家臣身份，隶属 | |
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proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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watchful
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| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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equanimity
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| n.沉着，镇定 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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dexterous
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| adj.灵敏的；灵巧的 | |
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93
lull
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| v.使安静，使入睡，缓和，哄骗；n.暂停，间歇 | |
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discreet
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| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
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racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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