24 LEAVES FROM A HUNTING DIARY 



he sent him at the thickest place, a trifle lower than the rest, and got over 

 well — in fact, a good deal better than those who followed him. Capt. 

 Beresford's horse fell, but he did not part company, and they got up 

 together, as hounds ran on and over a brook, which we had reached in 

 our mazy wanderings. Working splendidly, without any assistance from 

 the huntsman, the bitches hunted out all those twists and turns, those 

 entwining puzzles, so baffling to hounds, so useful to those who, starting 

 badly, wanted to nick in with them (the Mate was one). It was time they 

 did, for the chase was warming up as, minute by minute, hounds were 

 getting on better terms with their fox, ajid the pace zms becoming faster. 



Not touching Curtis Mill Green, although at first running in that 

 direction, they ran back along the brook, and recrossing it almost at once, 

 swung up hill towards Mr. French's Farm. To get over the brook one 

 way was one thing, to get back another. Several of us, including Mr. 

 Price and Major Glynn, rode a right-hand course of our own rather than 

 get engulfed, but I think the number of fences to be encountered had some 

 attraction for two of these gentlemen, one after the other, half-a-dozen 

 at least, before they could reach the Havering road, which hounds appeared 

 to be on the point of crossing, when a vigorous halloa towards Stapleford 

 Hall Farm (on the right side of the brook, too, by all that was lucky!) 

 indicated the line the fox had gone and the one hounds must take. 



One dark hound (a field ahead of the others) was already flinging up 

 the seed field beyond the brook, never having left the line, and helter- 

 skelter came the others after her without any assistance from the huntsman, 

 who could gallop comfortably alongside the hounds on the road until they 

 crossed just below Mr. Martin's Farm. 



What a mistake it is to fumble at a gate when hounds are running. 

 We had to follow Major Glynn over the drop into the road after all. 

 Now the fun of the fair began to wax hot and furious, for not only were 

 there at this point a good number of pursuers on most excellent terms with 

 hounds, notably Mr. F. Green and Mr. J. Pelly, both on greys. Miss Jones 

 and Miss Morgan, but hounds were running on ahead at a great pace after 

 their fox, having forced him at last to give up his labyrinthine twists, and 

 to set his mask straight for the dark woodlands in the distance. Horses 

 were blowing freely as they rose the hill, for fence succeeded fence in rapid 

 succession, and they gained little respite as they swung down from its 

 crest and were called upon to jump the rough bottom, over which Mr. F. 

 Green flew like a bird ; another sharp ascent, and we were within a field 

 of Hainault Forest. 



Before turning back the fox set his head for the Colonel's coverts, 

 crossing the road by Black Bush Farm, and leaving it and the big wood 

 on the right, and running straight over the grass meadows for Lambourne 

 End, he took another sharp turn to the right. Not a twist, you note, but 

 hounds could follow without the semblance of a check, and so up to the 

 small wood at the back of Bishops Hall, through it, and away over the 

 grass for Lambourne End church. Through it, I said ; yes, but not by 

 going over the wire netting. Miss M. Buxton found herself on the wrong 

 side of the wire, but she took it and the ditch beyond without a thought of 

 stopping, for it was a case of neck or nothing at the pace hounds were 

 going. Down the avenue, Mr. New's bay did not seem to be pulling, and 

 towards the gorse you would, if you were lucky, have turned over the briar 

 fence with Messrs. G. Sewell, Horner, and Single, and ridden the string of 

 the bow the hounds were making as they fairly flew round the outskirts of 

 Apes Grove, towards the Rectory, leaving it on the right and down to 

 Cranes, and without dwelhng, and as quickly away, Mr. J. Pelly going 



