Mr. Jorrocks was equally early, having been greatly tormented by the old cutomer, who had appeared to him in his dreams in a variety of ways -- now running between his legs and upsetting him, now nearly blinding him with a whisk over his eyes from his sandy brush, again, as the chairman of a convivial meeting of foxes who did nothing but laugh and make finger fans to their noses at him, crying, " Ah, cut his tail ! Cut his tail!"