A FOXHUNTING JOURNAL 159 



Scent was breast-high for the first hour, but, as hounds 

 pushed their fox farther up-country, where the high wind 

 had more of a sweep, they were put to their noses, and sel- 

 dom have I seen a pack work more industriously. O'Mal- 

 ley Knott, of New York, who was riding one of GeofFery 

 Tower's Canadian horses, and whose first day it was with 

 Radnor, remarked several times what a hard-working pack 

 it was and what a beautiful cry they had. Personally, I 

 thought Will Leverton hunted them as well as I had ever 

 seen him do the trick. 



Hounds pushed their fox out of the Brookthorpe Spin- 

 ney with a wonderful burst of music, the whole field view- 

 ing him away, a very light-colored fox; and, taking him out 

 to the Chimney Corner, swung left-handed to the Darby 

 Creek, and, following it down to the golf course, turned 

 back, and, racing at top speed over Brookthorpe, swam the 

 creek and fairly flew over the hill to Foxcroft and to the 

 Radnor Barrens, and, on crossing the railroad into the Hos- 

 pital Farm, were brought to their noses for the first time. 

 Dwelling a moment on the hilltop, they sank the valley 

 into Broad Acres and worked it out rather slowly to Yar- 

 nall's Hollow, where hounds overshot the line; and, at the 

 moment's breathing spell, a certain Mr. X came trotting 

 up with his horse's head covered with mud, which told the 

 tale of his wanderings as plainly as those of a certain Mr. 

 Y, of Radnor, who one night quite recently at a ball disap- 

 peared for some time, as did a certain most fascinating 

 young lady we all know. Upon Mr. Y's return to the ball- 

 room there were large particles of scarlet on his lips of the 

 same hue as the passionate lips of his fair companion. Be 

 that as it may. Will Leverton made a backward cast and 

 hounds raced away once more, crossed the road and ran to 

 the John Brown Wood where they gave it up completely. 



