NOVEMBER 381 



very real and grave danger, one more to be dreaded than all the 

 fleets of France and Russia. However, these are only my private 

 and quite unimportant opinions. 



The weather to-day is very windy, with storms of rain, but the 

 men are going on with the storage of the beet. 



November 6. On Thursday last Mr. Simpson came over to 

 make the annual valuation on these farms and at Bedingham. 

 I await the result with fear and trembling, for it may prove that 

 after I have preached to others &c. To be frank, it always has 

 proved so hitherto, therefore a variation in the tale would be a 

 most pleasant surprise. The corn is short this year; very few 

 people have thrashed more than seven coombs an acre from their 

 barleys in our neighbourhood, and a large proportion of this total 

 is in some instances proving to be dross. Also there is the dead 

 loss upon those ten Irish bullocks to be faced, and the poor return 

 from the root-crop, so that, take it all together, we can scarcely 

 hope for anything very encouraging. 



On Friday and yesterday we were shooting the coverts on the 

 Ditchingham Hall estate. The weather was beautiful, but Heden- 

 ham Wood is still far too thick with leaf to be shot satisfactorily : 

 indeed, it was quite impossible to see the ground game, and the 

 pheasants were loth to rise. We lunched out of doors without 

 cold or discomfort; in fact, judged by the green surroundings, 

 the season might almost have been summer, a delusion that the 

 presence of numerous wasps did not tend to dispel. The num- 

 ber of stops required makes the shooting of these large woods 

 difficult and rather expensive, but without their help the phea- 

 sants would simply run from beat to beat and never fly at all. 

 I think that it was last year an amusing incident occurred in 

 connection with these stops. After luncheon was over, and 

 as the beaters were about to get to work, a little boy was seen 

 approaching, weeping as bitterly as though he had just lost his 

 most intimate relation. When asked what was the matter, he 

 sobbed out in a squeaky voice : 



