117 



March 29th, 1878.— Met at Weaver's Lodge. For 

 the first time this season his Grace hunted with his 

 hounds on the Lincolnshire side of the country, and we 

 were lucky enough to have a real good hunting run, 

 which was quite unexpected through the very dry 

 weather. There were no less than two and a half brace 

 of foxes at Newton Woods, and, strange to say, the 

 one I viewed away in front of the pack, I remarked, 

 was our Hose Gorse fox, who had, during the season, 

 given us three nice gallops from that cover, in the 

 direction of Croxton Park ; and it appears I was right, 

 for he ran almost a straight line for Croxton Park, 

 though he ran us out of scent between Wyville and 

 Stoke Pasture. The line was away through Haydon's 

 Southings, Ropsley Pvise, Ponton Park wood, crossing 

 the Great Northern Railway between the Pontons, and 

 passing to the left of the school Plats to where he beat 

 us. Distance, eleven miles as the crow flies. 



P. GiLLAED. 



A SEASON'S SPORT WITH THE QUOKN. 



T o covert, brave sportsmen, on on, and away ! 

 H ark ! hark ! to the cry of the hounds ! 

 E ach one in his musical note seems to say : 



Q uick ! for'ard, my comrades ! we mean it to-day, 



TJ ntil the death holloa resounds ! 



O ne shake of his toilet, the bold, but the sly 



R eynard takes up the cue, and he sails — 



N ow to bafile and beat them his hardest he'll try. 



H ave at him, my beauties, as onward we fly 

 O ver hedges and ditches and rails ; 

 U p hill or down dale, through woodlands, o'er rill, 

 N matter what comes in the line, 

 D your best to be with 'em, your motto be still, 

 " S traight forward " to the ending of time ! 



