SEASON OF 1919-1920 



1st September, 19 19 

 Sabretache, in his "Pictures in the Fire" in The Tatler, 

 gives a very true description of one's feelings when start- 

 ing hunting once more after the war. 



"There's a pal or two missing for all of us, is n't there? 

 — fellows you've ridden with all day, told your latest 

 yarns to, ragged about some girl you think they've been 

 keen on, then hacked home long miles in the dark with. 

 Can't you see that long wet road with the bare trees meet- 

 ing over the top of it and a faint primrose streak the only 

 sign of the day that's gone? Can't you hear old John's or 

 old Bill's spurs clinking against his irons as he sits with his 

 feet hanging loose out of the stirrups to give himself a bit 

 of a rest? Can't you see the picture of that bald-faced 

 chestnut horse he was riding, with the plaited mane and a 

 long bang tail ? Can't you see his hat all bashed in where he 

 took it handsomely over that gap, mended with a bit of a 

 rail, and an ell of a ditch beyond? Can't you catch the 

 smell of the dead leaves and see that derelict harrow in the 

 corner of the big plough ? Don't it all sort of come back and 

 make you — well, just make you — main unhappy when 

 you know you'll never hack back from another day's hunt 

 with dear old John or Bill ? Just nothing after Festubert, 

 and the last man who saw him had his eyes blown out, 

 and did n't realize it quite because it was dark." 



Some of us are home again, and how easily we have 

 slipped back into all our old pursuits and pleasures. A few 

 of us have been even more closely associated with our 

 faithful friend, the horse, during the war, than in previous 



