368 FOX-HOUND, FOREST, AND PRAIRIE. 



E. Johnstone, &c. And as they had run well into the Bicester 

 country, hounds and several of the little field had a long 

 journey to make to their several homes. 



AN EARLY WEEK. 



The volume of my story must depend for excuse upon the 

 wealth of its subject. Sport has been flowing freely upon us, 

 as I hope I may be able to convey. 



Let me pencil the Pytchley burst of Friday, Nov. 23, while 

 it is yet fresh in mind, and before overclouded by after event. 

 For sport is coming quickly, and happy occasion is multiplying. 



Brock Hall is one of the oldest and prettiest lawn meets of 

 the Hunt. A quarter-hour margin was mostly occupied with 

 the tale of yester- afternoon — the Warwickshire second gallop. 

 Then to business. The Brock Hall fox ran short, and ran 

 scentless. Ah, how little do we know of the law or accident of 

 scent ! 



Wilton Osier-bed is a little brookside covert under Mr. 

 Craven's close care, and almost beneath his very homestead. 

 It sives us at least a gallop a year, and more often on the first 

 occasion of asking. A brace of foxes were here. One went in 

 view, the other was away by the brookside ; and a fitting field 

 threaded the bridlegate almost as quickly as the pack settled 

 to the last-named. The flat meadow spread them to a broad 

 front as the brook turned across them. Mr. Craven, as in 

 honour bound, showed promptly that the water need be no 

 terror ; and he, Mr. Adamthwaite, Mr. Muntz, Captain Middle- 

 ton, and Mr. Wroughton swept the deep ditch almost in a line. 

 It was nothing awful, perhaps ten feet deep and ten feet broad. 

 But it brought blunder and mishap profusely : and the above, 

 and only perhaps a dozen more, were to hounds for the next 

 mile. Yes, there was a scent now ; and merrily hounds took it 

 across the low meadows. 



On this occasion, for honesty's sake and that I may attempt 



