A CHECK BEFORE ITS TIME. 55L 



will allow me the occasion, viz.: Lord Spencer and his workmen, 

 Capts. Askwith, Atherton, Faber, Matthews, Middleton, Messrs. 

 Foster, Henley, Loder, Muntz, Walton, Mrs. Byass, Mrs. Cross, 

 and Miss Burton. 



Monday, Nov. 25, was, I imagine, the best scenting day we 

 have seen this autumn. The Grafton ran all morning as if tied 

 to their fox, while next day not only was the air teeming with 

 tales of Mr. Fernie's doings, but they brought us from Melton 

 the story of a great day with the Quorn. With these latter you 

 may have been furnished from the spot. For me it remains 

 only to tell of a hard, ringing run, around miles of old pasture- 

 land, and through many dozens of gates. I am not ashamed to 

 confess I do not like gates — i.e., gates only — even though they 

 lead from grass field to grass field. Nor would I be misunder- 

 stood to vaunt a soul superior to gates — I lost that before I was 

 twenty. But gate to gate, with a crowd, is only second-rate 

 bliss — however prettily hounds may drive and spin, however 

 charmiug the turf and however delectable the mount. At least 

 this is our way of thinking in the grass countries — else should 

 we all betake ourselves to southern downs or northern heath 

 save our collar-bones, save our purses, and save ourselves much 

 of the inquietude of spirit that belongs to those mornings 

 whereon we esteem ourselves " not quite the thing." No, we 

 go through gates whenever we can, partly because it is cus- 

 tomary and correct so to do, and partly because it is safer. 

 But so long as we really enjoy riding to hounds in these blessed 

 regions of Mid-England, so long do we extract a certain amount 

 of pleasure (more or less mixed according to the individual) out 

 of being obliged to jump in order to get from field to field. Let 

 the jumps be well within compass, by all means — even of our 

 worst beast of the week. Let there be hedges with fair holes 

 in them or else of easy average height. Let there be ditches, 

 too — and let farmers not lose sight of the fact that good farm- 

 ino- includes clean ditches. Let there be timber — well, I am 

 not very strong upon post-aud-rails this Tuesday night* — so I 



* After trying conclusions with a strong toprail. 



