114 THE IMAGE OF WAR 



was in Bramble Hill Walk, at the house of one of the 

 most regular attendants of the pack. It was rather a 

 large one, but " pink " was conspicuous by its absence. 

 The members of this Hunt Club, a very old one by the 

 way, seem to act on the principle of possessing red 

 coats, and of hunting in anything else, except at 

 "show meets" and in the dirtiest and most un- 

 interesting part of their country — that near the 

 Kennels. To be sure, a tall hat is not exactly the 

 acme of comfort in such a country (is it anywhere ?), 

 but, as I have often said in print before, why is the 

 useful and comfortable cap now restricted to hunt 

 officials and servants ? As we are not on the 

 "fashionable side" to-day, pink is limited to the 

 Master and his men. That Master, I may remark, 

 holds the position to-day that his grandfather filled 

 a century ago, a fact, in my opinion, not unworthy of 

 notice.^ 



Justice having been done to the hospitality provided 

 for us, a move is made to the biof woodland to the 

 westward, and not a very long time elapses before a 

 fox is found. It is a difficult country in which to 

 know exactly what hounds are doing ; and before 

 very long we find ourselves with hounds, but not with 

 the fox. A hasty count reveals the fact that no less 

 than four couple are absent, and a report is made that 

 they are gone on to King's Garn Enclosure. Thither 

 the huntsman hurries, but in vain, till he learns they 

 have crossed the open plain to the Bentley Woods. 

 We gallop across to there, but it is not till we reach 

 Anses at one o'clock that he is able to throw the pack 

 in at the head of the still running octette. They at 

 once settle down, dash across the bottom and the 



1 He has retired since the above was written. 



