LORD LONSDALE 159 



fully in paper. My friend was much too polite to 

 open the paper there and then ; but on reaching 

 home that night he found it contained only half the 

 correct amount. 



This was quite a good season ; but I think the 

 best sport was in March, when all three packs had 

 some very good days. 



On the thirteenth of the month the Cottesmore 

 had a rattling good day, hounds running hard until 

 dark. Here is an account of thirty minutes at 

 top speed from Laxton's covert to the Punchbowl, 

 and I can recall every incident of the gallop. 



" The whip has galloped on to the lower end of 

 the covert, and his halloa is a signal for us to hurry 

 to the spot. The pack are crossing the little 

 stream that runs below, and are soon flying up the 

 opposite slope. Sticky and holding is that first 

 field, but still we dare not slacken our speed. We 

 top the slope at last, and rejoice to find ourselves on 

 good, sound turf. On we go towards Whissendine, 

 swing right-handed across deep ridge and furrow 

 with the sun shining blithely in our faces. It was 

 somewhere hereabouts that we were with the 

 Belvoir last Wednesday, and the gaps have a 

 familiar look, but in and out a road quickly brings 

 us on to fresh ground. The ' Noel Arms ' is, we know, 

 just in front, but something turns our fox sharp to 

 the right. Hounds turn just as sharp, and never 

 falter for a moment. Is it pleasure, is it excitement, 

 or is it funk, that makes the perspiration trickle 

 down our faces ? Perhaps a little of all three, but 

 still the result is the most delightful sensation in 

 the world. Each second is a whole volume of a 

 lifetime, and the joy of that second is too intense 



