246 THE WARWICKSHIEE HUNT. [1893 



" Eusticus Expectans " in the Field: 



Friday, March 3, Bitham House. — I was good to-day ; never started from 

 home till 12.45, and then, strangely enough, rode out to tlie south. Why I 

 rode south instead of north I cannot exactly tell, except that I thought that 

 I must make Knoll End and Edge Hill good before easting along the Camp 

 Road for Warmiugton, from which I could get a good look out east and west. 

 Met plenty of my rustic friends, always keen to help me in my quest, and 

 only a sixpence or two, and a cheery word or three out of pocket. Wliy, the 

 hounds ! Dear me ! Who would have thought it ? Page's Gorse, too, and 

 grand accounts of a merry spin from White's Bushes, over the valley by 

 Shotteswell, and the greatest of great fun at the Farnborough Brook ! What 

 a wretched looking fox from Page's Gorse (it was here the great ran from 

 Kniglitley Wood ended — was it a year ago, and just about this date ?). It is 

 not, however, as was remarked in last week's Field, the best looking fox 

 which always gives the best run. An unjjropitious start, as the bitches ran 

 every way but the riglit one. The master kept his head, and had them back to 

 the line, and we crossed the Banbury Road, and dipped tlie Ratley Yalley. The 

 wiseacres, amongst whom you may be sure your correspondent was one, kept to 

 the right, and the few gallant gentlemen who began to jump the curious cross 

 fences in this pretty little Vale soon joined us. We swung to the right for 

 Edge Hill. Down comes a black coat, but, as Jem says, "I never saw a 

 young gentleman take a fall better in my life." Then up to the hill, biit a 

 plough team has headed him, and his lordship, after casting right and left, 

 lifts them across the road on the off-chance of picking up his line. Here he 

 was sure enough, for Jem saw him, but while we were sauntering along, 

 some above and some below, and some going home, they probably got on a 

 fresh fox, who might have been disturbed from Oxhill, PiUerton, or Idlicote 

 on the previous Tuesday. Was that the horn ? Let's be off, this pace won't 

 do ; and we get into a trot, then a canter, then a gallop, are waved on forwai-d 

 as we pass under the Round Tower, and gradually wake up to the importance 

 of the situation. Up the road at Mr. Bacclius's l)uildings, and we are told 

 they are away for U^jton. Instinct, for a wonder, is superior to information, 

 and we keep straight on as hai-d as we can go along the brow of the hill, past 

 the Sunrising, across the road, and still forward. Then we catch the 

 stationary and ever observant form of Tommy MetheraU, and he's looking 

 across the Yale. " Where are they ? " " Down at Tysoe, sir. Slip down the 

 hill, and gaUop your hardest." It was a desperate chance, but not to be 

 missed l)y one so well " refreshed " as yoiir correspondent ; so I made hot 

 haste to Tysoe. It was a quarter to four as I galloped past the church : 



High up the weather-beaten tower 

 The clock begins to strike the hour ; 

 But 'ere the strokes have echoed round, 

 The rider's past from sight and sound. 



Here the first beacon of hope was Lord North's broad back. The 

 expectant and radiant villagers gave me fresh energy. The other side of the 

 village I hit them near the funny old tree. Killed, I suppose; all over! 

 Not a bit of it. Just time to pull the mare into a trot, when Lord 

 WilloiTghby trots tlu'ough a gate to the riglit out of the Tysoe and Oxhill 

 road, and tliey are away on the grass and down the valley. Why, it must be 

 a run after all, and I'm here ! Joy, expectancy, hope, fear ! How many 



