272 HUNTING MISERIES: 



come out, in which case too, in my experience, the 

 horse generally " goes on." Nevertheless, you feel in 

 your heart of hearts grave doubts while you are 

 attiring yourself — doubts which assail you with ever- 

 recurring frequency when, after breakfast, you get 

 into the trap to drive to the meet. The ground is 

 "cruel hard," and the hoofs of the hack ring with 

 metallic sharpness on the dry, white, unyielding road. 

 What about the hounds and their feet? He (the 

 M.F.H. is " He," of course) is desperately keen cer- 

 tainly, but will He take them on such a morning as 

 this ? And you reflect darkly upon the provisions 

 in the Servants' Compensation Act. 



But the thought arises that there is a good deal of 

 grass on the roadsides between the kennels and the 

 fixture, and you are induced to proceed — despite the 

 fact that the breath from your horse's nostrils and 

 your own ascends like smoke into the heavens. In a 

 field adjoining the road, however, there are two 

 ploughs hard at work, and, "when you can plough 

 you can hunt" has long been an axiom connected 

 w^ith the chase, which you have never known to be 

 refuted in practice — at least " hardly ever " — and you 

 tax your memory for instances in support of the well- 

 known saying. Then your ears catch the rattle of 

 wheels behind you, and a friend overtakes you, his 

 tall hat betraying that he is bent on the same errand 

 as yourself. 



" I suppose we're mad ! " is his cheery exclamation, 

 and, while inwardly disposed to agree with him, you 

 broach the theory of the plough, and can see that it 

 brings to him a crumb of comfort which a bit of 



