"I hope no accident has happened to your honor," said the groom, as
he met our hero at the gate.
"A slight dizziness," was the answer.
One of the servants, without being ordered, went at once for the
family physician. Ashamed to own that his return was owing to his
inability to ride, Jerome resolved to feign sickness. The doctor
came, felt his pulse, examined his tongue, and pronounced him a
sick man. He immediately ordered a tepid bath, and sent for a
couple of leeches.
Seeing things taking such a serious turn, the American began to
regret the part he was playing; for there was no fun in being
rubbed and leeched when one was in perfect health. He had gone too
far to recede, however, and so submitted quietly to the directions
of the doctor; and, after following the injunctions given by that
learned Esculapius, was put to bed.
Shortly after, the sound of the horns and the yelp of the hounds
announced that the poor fox had taken the back track, and was
repassing near the house. Even the pleasure of witnessing the
beautiful sight from the window was denied to our hero; for the
physician had ordered that he must be kept in perfect quiet.
The chase was at last over, and the huntsmen all in, sympathizing
with their lost companion. After nine days of sweating, blistering
and leeching, Jerome left his bed convalescent, but much reduced
in flesh and strength. This was his first and last attempt to
follow the fox and hounds.
During his fortnight's stay at Colonel G.
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