H 



lf:aves from a hunting diary 



wasn't a man in the hunt who would look at it. So single file through the 

 mud they had to go. By the way hounds ran this fox to ground, we could 

 tell that, in spite of falling glass and squalls of rain, that there was a fair 

 scent. And so we turned towards the Down Hall coverts with all the 

 more assurance. In my lord's gorse we found him, and in five minutes our 

 fox had fairly embarked on a good country, the first flighters had settled in 

 their places, the Admiral had fairly demonstrated that there are more ways 

 than one through a thick fence; the Mate had followed him, and then, 

 when all was conleiiy de rose, scent failed. 



In Matching Park we picked up the gorse fox or his brother, and we 

 ran him hard and ran him straight to the fagot stack, the Admiral again 

 being far the quickest in this nice little dart. I don't think I can ever 





Quick Wood 



recall an occasion when half-a-dozen or so riders so quickly shot off from 

 and left a big field, for all started fairly together from Matching Park. 

 Did you view him out of the fagot heap ? If not, let me tell you he was 

 a very fine fox, and he took us for another very nice little dart over a very 

 nice little country before he was lost on Mr. James's farm at Magdalen 

 Laver. Mr. Horner jumped the Weald brook when you thrusters were 

 looking for the food, and the drop on the landing side was not to be 

 trifled with. I don't remember ever finding again, but when the hounds 

 were blown out of the osiers at Harlow Bury the rain was still spitting 

 down, the easterly wind had lost none of its keenness, and on the following 

 morning the landscape was white with snow. " A merry Christmas to 

 you all, and a happy New Year when it comes." 



Shall we hunt ? This thought must have been uppermost in the minds 

 of many as they drove or rode to the meet at Fyfield on Saturday, Decem- 

 ber 28th, 1895; "ot because of the frost, for although fairly sharp, sharp 



