What true-bred city sportsman has not in his day put off the most urgent business-perhaps his marriage, or even the interment of his rib-that he might 'brave the morn' with that renowned pack, the Surrey subscription foxhounds? Lives there, we would ask, a thoroughbred, prime, bang-up, slap-dash, break-neck, out-and-out artist, within three miles of the Monument, who has not occasionally 'gone a good ’un' with this celebrated pack? ***-excerpt from 'Jorrocks’ Jaunts and Jollities'