A BROKEN RECORD. 379 



On the whole, I think there is more dignity — and possibly 

 more honesty — certainly more chance of deception — in towelling 

 on while information keeps you on the line, and in putting in an 

 appearance after the fox is broken up — and with your horse very 

 nearly as tired as other people's. Yes ; this is the right policy 

 — unless you have strength to adopt a better, viz., straightway 

 to go home. In future I shall go home and write for The 

 Field. 



A BROKEN LEG. 



P.S. — Dec. 3. There are worse things after all than losing a 

 run. To lose two months' hunting just as the season is in full 

 swing, is certainly a sorer trial — mitigated though it be, I may 

 gratefully add, by kindly condolence and manifold sympathy. 

 My diary is closed for the present — though if great sport 

 happens, good fellows will tell me of it, and I will pass it 

 briefly on. 



A BROKEN RECORD. 



There has been ample sport during the past fortnight— as 

 should be in the month of December, with the weather open 

 and a four-seasons' accumulation of foxes to play upon. The 

 Pytchley have kept the ball rolling busily. Their best 

 achievement would seem to have dated from Brock Hall on 

 Friday, 21st, when, starting from one of the spinneys behind 

 the house, they drove their fox merrily to his death in about 

 thirty minutes. 



They came to draw Braunston Gorse in a fierce storm of 

 wind and rain. And now, for a brief while, I come in as eye- 

 witness. Non cuivls homini continglt adire Cori/mthvm — 

 which in this instance you may translate as " It is not given to 

 every poor broken-legged devil to look out upon Braunston 

 Gorse." But it has been given to me. And greedily I hoped 

 that the grand old play of Braunston to Shuckburgh, in one act 



