A FOXHUNTING JOURNAL 83 



hours, have a lot of enjoyment, and perhaps, if one wants 

 to, learn something of hound lore. Personally, I'd rather 

 have a run a little slow so that I could see a bit of hounds 

 and their work, that lasted an hour or two, than a very 

 fast twenty minutes, when practically one's whole atten- 

 tion had to be devoted to navigating a stiff country. 

 There's plenty who will not agree with me here, I know, 

 but what a blessing we don't all think alike. 



The Radnor bitch pack met this morning at ten o'clock 

 at Bromall, and, with the melting snow and ice, the pros- 

 pects for a good day were not bright, to say the least, but 

 scent was fair at times, good at times, and also very poor at 

 times. Where the snow had melted or blown off, scent was 

 wonderful, and the pack would work along slowly over a 

 field of snow, then, on coming to a field quite bare of snow, 

 would race away at top-speed, only to be brought to their 

 noses again at the next place where there was snow. Hounds 

 began to feather to a cold line on the eastern side of the 

 State Farm, then opened up with a roar upon reaching a 

 knoll that was clear of snow, and, keeping the Lamb Tav- 

 ern on their left, crossed the Springfield Road into the new 

 cemetery and on south to the edge of the wood, where they 

 marked their fox under after sixteen minutes of very pretty 

 hound work. 



The Master then giving instructions to draw towards 

 McCullough's wood, hounds moved on, and almost imme- 

 diately another fox was viewed away from the eastern side 

 of the Clarke Thomson Farm, hounds settling on the line 

 at once; carried it over the Ridley Creek, and, swinging 

 right-handed up the meadow, below the Tunis house, took 

 us out to the road over a barway of saplings that made 

 horses really jump. Then on across the Hutchinson prop- 

 erty and across the Paxon Hollow Road; turning back 



