HUNTING RECOLLECTIONS. 7 



foot wrong. It is a treat to see our leading 

 lady pop over a gate or stile. She has the most 

 perfect seat and hands of any woman I ever 

 came across. Of course they are not all like 

 her. Some do not know how to dress even 

 now. How well I remember a young woman 

 who used to come out in ear-rings and other 

 adornments — face powdered to match — poor 

 thing. What a terrible plight she was in when 

 her horse took it into its head to lie down as we 

 were going through a washway which was 

 flooded. When she was eventually fished up 

 she was a spectacle. Then there was the 

 farm'er's daughter, much to be commended, who 

 saw a good deal of the fun on a steady old cob, 

 but, poor girl, so inspired was she by her ardour 

 of the chase, that after a season or two she 

 appeared on a weedy thoroughbred. She was 

 not so happy, and disaster soon befel her. She 

 was crossing a greasy bridge when her horse 

 slipped and down she came. The poor girl 

 broke her leg, was carried to the Rectory near 

 by, where she remained for ten weeks, and, sad 

 to relate, that ended her hunting days. 



Then there is the quiet one, nevei^ putting 

 herself forw^ard or in the way, but always calm 

 and collected. Quite the reverse of the lady 

 who came to hunt two seasons. She could go 

 and no mistake; but her language was a trifle 

 warm. One day someone called out to her to 

 mind the drop in front of her. " Damn the 

 drop," she said. 



I must not forget the wit of the Hunt. 

 What Hunt is without him. Always prepared 



