HUNTING IN A HURRICANE. 



standing as they did intermingled with each other in 

 this grand and widely-extending historic old Park. 

 On my arrival at Cumberland Lodge I met Mr. Miles, 

 who for the last thirty- eight years has resided at this 

 pleasant abode, having charge of the stud, numbering 

 this year some twenty in all. Upon entering the 

 stables one is struck with the solidity and height of 

 the buildings, showing that they were built long prior 

 to the cement or compo era fit to stand against the 

 fiercest blasts or the ravages of years. Spacious, well 

 drained and ventilated, and kept in the most perfect 

 order, they will be found in all probability standing 

 when the modern quickly-run-up, lightly-timbered, 

 brick -and-a-half contract edifices are crumbled into 

 dust. 



The huntsman and whips are, I should say, likely 

 to be better carried than they have been for some 

 years past, Lord Cork having selected some right good 

 ones, which, under the special and attentive care of 

 Mr. Miles, look as fit as the proverbial fiddles, and I 

 should say that in the hands of workmen such a string 

 of quality should run to a very pretty tune. Crusader, 

 a fine gray horse about seventeen hands high, is a rare 

 specimen of a high-class hunter. Those who attended 

 the Ascot meeting will probably remember Crusader, 

 who carried in grand form the noble Master of the 

 Buckhounds in the royal procession on the Cup -day. 

 Since the days of Charles Davis's favourite, Hermit, I 

 should say no better nag has been seen within the walls 

 of Cumberland Lodge. High-bred, with deep girth, 

 rare shoulders, good short flat legs, muscular thighs, 

 an intelligent head, and a good temper I do not know 

 what else is required to constitute a real hunter, 



