66 HUNTING AND SPORTING NOTES, 



Jolinson, puts joy where all was dejection. A fox breaks 

 instantly on the right, bids good-bye to the Wyches, and 

 we bnstle as best we can through some very rough places, 

 beset with bogs, giving hounds a two-field lead. Now 

 they swing to the right, and the choice is between a 

 desperately deep dingle or a detour to the left. The 

 straight men are first with the hounds, who are now going- 

 for Bubney. It is — catch th©m who can ; a widespread 

 pursuit. On each side of the roUing country horsemen 

 seem riding their mightiest. A nasty brook or two have 

 to be dealt with, a local vet. getting a nasty purler at one 

 of them. Then Iscoyd looms in front, and we leave it on 

 our right. SweepiKg round it, however, imperceptibly, 

 we quit altogether the ploughs, and horses take heart of 

 grace as we fly along for the fens. Sporting reader, da 

 not imagine it is quite plain sailing even now, for every 

 conceivable fence has to be taken on the chance ; hounds 

 are racing, and hot blood courses every vein as we strive to- 

 be somewhere in the hunt. Before Bettisfield is reached, 

 hounds once more make a circle. This time our fox's 

 head is pointed for Maesfen, and the effort to live the pace 

 is getting serious, and this not only to us, for yonder dark 

 object under the hedge, doubling from the over-eager pack, 

 is undoubtedly the form of our sinking fox. Nature can 

 no longer endure this tremendous pressure. One hound 

 turns quicker than the rest. Now only one small paddock 

 divides them, aud the next brings the final tussle. 

 Whoohoop ! It has been a gloriously exciting run of 

 about fifty minutes, in which Borderer saw nothing to 

 call a check — at least he can answer for personally never 

 having pulled his horse into a trot throughout it. The 

 country, too, was more trying than Whitchurch usually 

 produces, and required no ordinary hunter to get through 

 it successfully. "Arundel" will probably tell us on 

 Saturday in The Field how many came to grief. There 

 were many freeholds planted, (mine lies somewhere near 

 the Fens, where a boggy double received me delightfully.) 

 I am sure we covered ten miles of ground, and of course 

 there was talk about change of foxes, but the grand old 

 fellow that yielded us his life was an afternoon fox, and 

 was responsible in my opinion for nearly, if not all, the 

 fun. 



While Sir Watkin's were enjoying themselves at 

 Maesfen, Mr. Lonsdale was having a bye-day in his wood- 



