The WelsJi blood and its deeds. CS 



the Welsh cross in hounds is famous, and I was proud of 

 having- been so long a sharer in their fortunes. Their 

 like are hard to find. Our field is select, but one and all 

 with their hearts in the sport, more pinks than blacks, and. 

 the Colonel looking as fresh and. young as he did ten 

 yeavs ago. Nantygroes Wood is our first venture, and 

 the home of a brace. We try conclusions with the wrong 

 one, that is not keen for a start, and as the orders are not 

 to let him go up country into the snow if possible, and no 

 other way is pleasing to him, after two or three turns he 

 falls a victim. Ganders Bridge Gorse lies in high 

 latitudes, but thither we go full of expectation, and siu'e 

 enough it is brimful of foxes, at least half-a-dozen going 

 away in different directions. We manage to get about 

 eleven couple on the back of one, and he goes away in 

 view a cracker over the top, and down into Treburvah 

 Dingle towards the Blancwm. Now turning to the right 

 over Gwernaffel big enclosures it is hard galloping to 

 Cwmblowen, where hounds check, and we hear another 

 pack on the opposite hill towards Pilleth. The Colonel 

 puts on the steam, and we are soon with them by Pilleth 

 Church and along the side of the hill towards Monaughty, 

 there dropping down, we cross the road and over the 

 Lugg. Disdaining the shelter of the Forest Wood, this 

 good fox goes on by Upper Litton and over Litton Plill, 

 beating us in good style in the bright sunshine of mid- 

 day. Hencwm Gorse fails to hold one, but Norton is no 

 sooner reached than away we are again with evidently 

 three or four on foot. Luckily, however, by the time we 

 cross the Presteign and Knighton Road at Hares' Green, 

 we have the pack with us and push on to Black Patch, 

 where it is evident that we have a brace of foxes before 

 us — the lines run curiously parallel now in the same field, 

 now crossing each other, and as we reach the Stone Wall 

 hill converging quick volunteer whips put all to rights, 

 and we sail away as hard as hoofs can carry us to Willey 

 Wood. Yonder goes a fox over tlie top of Hill Pike — 

 not our hunted one, for there is a full chorus back in the 

 covert — no peace for him here, he tries a turn in the 

 open, but is obhged to retrace his steps, and at last slips 

 away by Stocking Farm and Wood, to the Colony, where 



