COL. ANSTRUTHER THOMSON 257 



combe Wood and jogged back to Stamfordham. 

 Tea and changed and drove home ; got in at 

 nearly eight o'clock. Hounds were not quite ac- 

 customed to their huntsman, J. Cookson, the master, 

 having hunted them himself formerly. Awfully hot 

 riding ; ground very dry ; a big field. 



Wednesday, i8th February. — The Braes o' 

 Derwent. Siddle Dickson, huntsman ; sixteen 

 couple thoughtful-looking hounds with long ears 

 sitting in a semicircle watching him. The whipper- 

 in a grubby-looking youth in strange attire — an old 

 red coat, a cap stuck on to the back of his neck with 

 its peak in the air, and a bright blue satin necktie 

 and "gills," a pair dogskin gloves with broad black 

 embroidery on the backs, and a short whip which 

 cracked like a pistol. They went into acres of 

 woods on the banks of the river (the Tyne). Found 

 directly, and they all barked at once, and ran like 

 fun, and George Fenwick and I and a chap with 

 fourteen buttons at his knees (an innkeeper) got 

 away with four couple of hounds. The body of the 

 hounds was a long time in coming, and when they 

 came the huntsman accounted for his delay by 

 saying "his horse had got ditched," and he had to 

 pull him out, and he was very lame in consequence. 

 They then drew a tremendous wood, where they 

 found at once. Dickson view-holloaed as long; as 

 they would run. He has a grand voice. We 

 went home early. Rode the same big chestnut 

 horse of George Fenwick's I rode last year. Very 



few people out ; all sportsmen ; not a dressy field. 

 VOL. II. 17 



