Forward! Hark, forward's the cry!

One more fence and we're out in the open,

So to us at once, if you want to live near us!
Hark to them, ride to them, beauties! as on they go,
Leaping and sweeping away in the vale below!

Cowards or bunglers, whose heart or whose eye is slow,
Find themselves staring alone.

So the great cause flashes by.

-Charles Kingsley.

II. Theme:-NARRATIVE DESCRIPTION-SCENES OF ACTION: A Fox HUNT.1

A faint but knowing whimper drove other thoughts out of all heads, and Lancelot began to stalk slowly with a dozen horsemen up the wood-ride, to a fitful accompaniment of wandering hound-music, where the choristers were as invisible as nightingales among the thick cover. And hark! the sweet hubbub suddenly crashed out into one jubilant shriek, and then swept away fainter and fainter among the trees. The walk became a trot -the trot a canter. Then a faint melancholy shout at a distance, answered by a 'stole away!' from the field. Then red coats flashing like sparks of fire across the gray gap of mist, then a whipper-in bringing up a belated hound, burst into the path-way, smashing and plunging, with shut eyes, through ash-saplings and hassock-grass; 1 REFERENCES FOR READING.

A Football Rush, Hughes, Tom Brown's School-days. A Cricket Match, Dickens, Pickwick Papers. A Gambling Party, Disraeli, The Young Duke. A Polo Match, Rudyard Kipling, "The Maltese Cat," in The Day's Work. A Prize Fight, R. H. Davis, Gallegher.

then a fat farmer, sedulously pounding through the mud, was overtaken and bespattered in spite of all his struggles;-until the line streamed out into the wide and rushy pasture, and right ahead, chiming and jangling sweet madness, the dappled pack danced and wavered through the veil of mist.

On and on-down the wind and down the vale; and the canter became a gallop, and the gallop a long, straining stride; and a hundred horse-hoofs crackled like flame among the stubbles and thundered fetlockdeep along the heavy meadows; and every fence thinned the cavalcade, till the madness began to stir all bloods, and with grim, earnest, silent faces the initiated few settled themselves to their work, till the rolling grasslands spread out into flat black open fallows, and here and there a long melancholy line of tall elms, while before them the high chalk ranges gleamed above the mist like a vast wall of emerald enamelled with snow, and the winding river glittering at their feet.

The hounds caught sight of the fox, burst into one frantic shriek of joy-and then a sudden and ghastly stillness, as mute and breathless they toiled up the hillside, gaining on their victim at every stride. The patter of the horse-hoofs and the rattle of rolling flints died away above. In the road beyond them. the hounds were just killing their fox, struggling and growling in fierce groups for the red gobbets of fur, a panting, steaming ring of horses round them.

Charles Kingsley. Adapted from "Yeast."

EXERCISE I. (i) From what point of view is the hunt described? Show that all the details are brought for

ward from the point of view chosen. (ii) Point out a number of expressions that convey the idea of swift physical movement. (iii) Select expressions that suggest excitement. (iv) Show that there is a climax in the development of the scene. (v) Show how the writer blends the beauty of nature with the description of the hunt.

2. Discuss the elements in the foregoing description that give it the qualities of (i) vividness, (ii) animation. IV. Composition.-I. Describe, in the style of Kingsley's Fox-hunt, any sport that you have taken part in. Seek to render the interest and excitement of the sport. -(1) Trout Fishing. (2) Sailing a Cat-boat. (3) Riding. (4) Birds-nesting. (5) Tobogganing. (6) Coasting. (7) Skating. (8) Snow-shoeing. (9) Canoeing. (10) Duck-hunting. (11) Rabbit-hunting. (12) Crabbing. 2. Describe the hunting-scene below.

LESSON LX.

I. Memorize:-BEFORE WATERLOO-FROM "CHILDE

HAROLD."

And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed,
The mustering squadron, and the clattering car,
Went pouring forward with impetuous speed,
And swiftly forming in the ranks of war;
And the deep thunder, peal on peal afar;
And near, the beat of the alarming drum
Roused up the soldier ere the morning star;

While thronged the citizens with terror dumb,

Or whispering with white lips-"The foe! They come! They come!"

And wild and high the "Cameron's gathering" rose,

The war note of Lochiel, which Albyn's hills

Have heard, and heard, too, have her Saxon foes:

How in the noon of night that pibroch thrills

Savage and shrill! But with the breath which fills
Their mountain pipe, so fill the mountaineers

With the fierce native daring which instils

The stirring memory of a thousand years;

And Evan's, Donald's fame rings in each clansman's ears!

II. Theme:-A BOAT-RACE.

-Lord Byron.

In the boat-races of the English colleges, the boats start, because of the narrowness of the river, at equal distances behind each other. Each boat strives to overtake the boat ahead, to touch it with the prow, making "a bump."

There it comes, at last-the flash of the starting gun. Long before the sound of the report can roll up the river the whole pent-up life and energy which has been held in leash, as it were, for the last six minutes, is let loose,

and breaks away with a bound and a dash which he who has felt it will remember for his life, but the like of which, will he ever feel again? The starting-ropes drop from the coxswains' hands, the oars flash into the water, and gleam on the feather, the spray flies from them, and the boats leap forward.

For the first ten strokes Tom was in too great fear of making a mistake to feel or hear or see. His whole soul was glued to the back of the man before him, his one thought to keep time, and get his strength into the stroke. But as the crew settled down into the wellknown long sweep, what we may call consciousness returned; and while every muscle in his body was straining, and his chest heaved, and his heart leaped, every nerve seemed to be gathering new life, and his senses to wake into unwonted acuteness.

"We must be close to Exeter!" The thought flashes into him, and it would seem into the rest of the crew at the same moment. For, all at once, the strain seems taken off their arms again; there is no more drag; she springs to the stroke as she did at the start.

The water rushes by, still eddying from the strokes of the boat ahead. Tom fancies now that he can hear their oars and the working of their rudder, and the voice of their coxswain. In another moment both boats are in the Gut, and a perfect storm of shouts reaches them from the crowd, as it rushes madly off to the left of the foot-bridge. Then Miller, motionless