CRICK AND KIL WORTH. 293 



and that, you will allow, is more than a correct Pytchley field 

 can stand. So we whisked through the bullfinches, while the 

 twigs whipped sharply and the thorns imprinted their stinging 

 kisses : we hustled over grass and we hugged over plough — 

 till we reached Walton Holt only just too late to cut off the last 

 tail hound, whom we had been after with all our might for at 

 least ten minutes. 



I would fain call attention to a praiseworthy custom that of 

 late has gained much prevalence in the Midlands — viz., the 

 practice of braiding ribbon into the tail of a kicking horse. It 

 answers its purpose admirably, I assure you — gives your friends 

 a hint to get out of your way, or even to make room for you, 

 and virtually relieves you of all blame for damage done. The 

 system is to be commended as practical, expedient, and not 

 altogether unornamental — allowing, as it does, of some little 

 play in colour, and of much ingenuity in fancy braiding. One 

 day recently the new practice was very noticeable — to an 

 extent, indeed, that proved sorely trying to ordinary nerves. 

 At every gateway bows and festoons fluttered in terrible 

 propinquity, in front and alongside. To move forward meant 

 courting danger. To rein back was to invite the full force of 

 lathy iron-shod limbs. We hurried for our turn, and we drew 

 back to seek safety. This is scarcely a state of feeling that 

 induces rapid progress through overcrowded loopholes and 

 admits a Northamptonshire field to sight-seeing on equal 

 shares ! At length the situation became so embarrassing that 

 two of the decores set to work to put a stop to it. Each was 

 garnished like a cart-horse at Islington. Of a sudden extremes 

 met, and bow jostled bow. Crack, bang ! Hocks and quarters ! 

 You might have heard the clatter in the provinces. The 

 amazed and apologetic face of each rider was a very picture. 

 They too let off the ready disclaimer, that each man who 

 bestrides a kicker ought to have poised on his lips. The 

 apologies met like shells in mid-air, exploded harmlessly — and 

 then ensued explanation, mutual examination and doubtless 

 two billets to Albert-gate by that night's post, " A gentleman 



