The Worst Hunt on Record 



like frozen mutton from the hips down. We then met 

 a big wall and he swerved : but I didn't. My brief solo 

 flight ended in an abrupt, forced landing on the flood- 

 waters of the adjoining field. The only difference 

 between my past and present discomfort was that 

 instead of my limbs and my ardour being only partially 

 damp, both were now thoroughly sodden. 



Doctors prescribe cross-country rambles for improved 

 blood-circulation. I enjoyed my nice long walk home. 



