A YorhsUlrc Week — The Bramham. 77 



and went to the riglit over light ploughs, holding always 

 a bad scent, nearly to the river, opposite Goldsborough, 

 when he did the orthodox thing by returning to Braham 

 Wood, and could not be traced any further — a very 

 uninteresting ring, but the Leeds and Harrogate 

 divisions managed to find plenty of jumps' and a lady 

 succeeded in falling. A still worse fox showed himself 

 in Plumpton Eocks, from which the quick bitches never 

 allowed him to emerge alive. Rudding Park was the 

 afternoon draw, and a fox from the top larch plantation 

 set us a-going in better style. He might have gone 

 over a good line to the Hags, but two fields was all 

 he tried in that direction, then he went down to the 

 beck under the Viaduct, as if Harrogate and the Moors 

 would suit him, only again to retrace his steps and give us 

 nothing but the most twisting work through the Park 

 twice, and at last over the beck towards Harrogate — slow 

 pottering work, that sent me home not over dehghted 

 with my first day. 



Tuesday— the choice lay between Oxton v/ith the York, 

 or a Bramham bye-day for the dog hounds that had missed 

 their turn, from frost, on the previous Friday. Allwood- 

 ley Crag was pretty handy, and Oxton fourteen miles, so 

 the former had the greater charms, and in the event 

 proved to be right, for the York had a disappointing day, 

 a lot of country drawn blank, and only two short spurts in 

 the way of runs. A delightful canter through Harewood 

 Park on a morning as beautifully springlike as ever was 

 seen, to say nothing of charming companionship, was a 

 fair beginning — indeed, it made loiterin g excusable. There 

 could be no hurry, and yet where are the hounds ? Is this 

 really the meet ? Tracks of horses, naught else. "Where 

 are they "? " Down yonder. Don't ye hear 'em ?" replies 

 a solitary pedestrian ; and then the truth flashes upon us, 

 and away we dash in hot haste for a stern chase — Borderer 

 does not profess to pilot ladies, much less in an unknown 

 shire, and had he not known what a trusty seat and un- 

 flinching nerve that possessor of the riding habit rejoiced 

 in, he shoukbhave hesitated to have left the hard highroad. 

 The truth was this — a fox had crossed the road in front of 

 the hounds at the meet. What could Mr. Fox do except 

 to let 'em go ? And go they did with the vengeance. For 

 thirty- five minutes the pace was a cracker, with scarce 

 anyone except the huntsman really with them, until, after 



