HUNTING MISERIES 265 



take the wrong one ? Goodness knows the deep-voiced 

 pack is making noise enough (is it possible that in 

 reality the sounds are one's own " nasal respirations " ?) 

 — yet up that ride we invariably flounder to find it 

 end in a gap made up six feet high and interlaced with 

 barbarous (forgive me !) wire. So back we go and 

 strike another ride, which is full of rabbit-holes that 

 bring a sinking of the heart at every stride. Yet 

 somehow we get into the open to view a fair land- 

 scape, across which rapidly moving dots of scarlet and 

 black are scurrying. We have "lost our start"! But 

 yon village spire suggests a means of catching them 

 by a safe short cut. Alas ! when we gain the village 

 street it leads up an endless hill so steep that the 

 horse seems to go backwards instead of forwards, 

 and, dismounting to lead up in despair, we wake to 

 find it all a dream. It was a dreadful dream, and 

 the awakening brings relief ; yet, horrible though it 

 was, what was it to the misery of " getting left " 

 in reality with a good hunt in progress — a mishap 

 which must happen at times to all hunting folk, no 

 matter how keen and determined they may be, or 

 how successful they usually are in obtaining a good 

 start. 



There are many causes utterly unforeseen and 

 unavoidable that may bring about the catastrophe ; 

 a stirrup-leather may break ; you may be cannoned 

 and " knocked endways " at the first fence ; a horse 

 may fall in front and block up the only possible spot 

 in the bullfinch ; a lady or one's best friend may come 

 to grief alongside, and gallantry, humanity and friend- 

 ship compel you to draw rein; a fresh fox may run 



