390 FOX-HOUND, FOREST, AND PRAIRIE. 



that the position of hounds and hard riders had become 

 inverted, to a degree that would have gladdened a cynic from 

 the ploughs, was at this moment apparent enough from the 

 eyrie above Everdon — where, as Babes in the "Wood, sat the 

 child taking notes and a ragged infant whom he had impressed 

 into his service as gate-opener). 



But, surely, business was afoot as the cluster thickened and 

 closed up, and Newnham Village was reached. There were 

 whips galloping round a willow bed and the village outskirts ; 

 there was a baying of hounds, a sudden rush inwards, and hark, 

 who-whoop, a finish, and the cry of victory. " Excellent 

 sport," they said : they forgave the wood and its first half- 

 hour, they ignored the dribble and uncertainty of the next, and 

 they piled encomium on the final thirty minutes. " Were 

 there ever such hounds ? " Oh, yes ; often. But " was there ever 

 a prettier country ? I say, old fellow, what were you doing at 

 the brook? You should have seen my new horse cock his 

 ears and go for it. He made nothing of it, and even Goodall 

 got in." 



Now, the afternoon was all different ; and a galloping road 

 put all this in view, too. A turn round Staverton Wood and 

 its planted vicinity occupied ten minutes. And then we started 

 level — hacks and pony traps along the turnpike — the pack 

 flying parallel — John doing pilot over a strong country, Mrs. 

 Craven (may I be permitted to testify) giving a distance to all 

 comers, and the rest spread out. It took only ten minutes 

 from covert to kill. But he was a wicked old fox, with scarcely 

 a tooth in his head, and he paid the penalty. 



WHEELS WITHIN WHEELS. 



Then Monday's run with the Grafton was also admirably 

 suited to the movements of one who essayed to see sport through 

 the saddening medium of road and harness. And this is meant 

 by no means to convey a slur upon the merits of the run itself. 



