A GOOD RUN WITH ONE OF MR. CHARLES BURY S FOXES 27 



line, and we may hope to run him again this season with ordinary luck. 

 Mr. Darby, who was having a day with us, said that it reminded him of 

 old times ; it certainly did me good to see the quiet, resolute way in which 

 he rode the Cat, his famous bay horse, to the front in this last gallop. 



Nasing Common, a run with one of Mr. Charles Bury's foxes over the 

 grass to the forest marked the morning's proceedings ; with the loop round 

 the house we did it in thirty-five minutes. It was a pretty find in Mr. 

 Bury's new plantation on the hill. The huntsman's bare head, the only 

 clue we had, as we clustered in the road, that they had done so. A 

 momentary glimpse of the horn to his mouth, facing towards Nasing Bury, 

 a hint sufficient to stick to the road, and the few who did, including the 

 Master and Capt. Bruce, cut the point where hounds crossed on as good 

 terms as the huntsman and young Mr. Bury, the only two near them in 

 the fields. Then grief and disaster ! A good start, a good nick in, all 

 thrown away by two or three hounds hanging back in the shrubberies 

 through which the main body of the pack had slipped unobserved by 

 Master or huntsman. 



We dallied scarce a minute, but in those brief seconds hounds succeeded 

 in placing a good half-mile to their credit before we were at liberty to set 

 to work to try and catch them. Those in the meantime who had ridden 

 right-handed of Nasing Bury House, though not with hounds, were not 

 delayed, and were flying the fence at the top of the hill, where two gaps 

 let them out over the drop, and then every gap had a pony in it or a loose 

 horse, or a refuser, before we turned back to the green lane that led down 

 to Galley Hills. Mr. Baddeley's horse was going at large, but his boy 

 was there to catch him — a filial duty methinks he would gladly have 

 delegated to someone else if the chance had occurred. Jumping out of 

 the lane we could see those nearest the hounds flying along at a great pace 

 on the grass, for the brook below Marsh Farm, Mr. Ned Ball with a strong 

 lead on the right ; so to the road, the gate locked, but as we jumped out on 

 the left a scatter and crash could be heard on the right, the huntsman was 

 down under his horse, as he failed to clear the five-barred gate, over which 

 Mr. Jones had given him a lead. He couldn't move for a few seconds, but 

 the moment he caught sight of Dr. Love he just got some one to hoist him 

 up, and away he went again. 



Nothing like a doctor handy, and a doctor who means jumping. In the 

 meantime Master Ned Ball had made such play up Galley Hills' rough 

 rides that he and Mr. Jones were absolutely the only men with hounds 

 who had started and ridden to them. Fortunately hounds hung a bit on 

 the far side of Galley Hills, or surely up those deep, sobbing rides we 

 should never have caught them. Twang, twang, went the Master's horn 

 as he laid the hounds on over the broad green lane in the direction of 

 Warlies, and the huntsman, coming up, held them forward to the grass 

 beyond Green's Farm ; from here they wanted no assistance, though we 

 should like to know the name of the dog that, certainly for six fields, had 

 the fun all to himself, the huntsman and Mr. Harry Sworder riding right 

 at him, the pack a field behind. One dog is not enough for me nor my 

 horse ; we both like a lot of bow-wows in front. Not so Mr. Peel ; he 

 loves a small, if connected, pack. So, while all this fun was going on, he 

 was gaily sailing away by himself and three doggies in the direction of 

 Roydon. 



Running almost field for field, and yard for yard, as on the last occasion 

 when we galloped this grass line for the Forest, we had no difficulty in 

 taking our bearings before we raced over Copped Hall Park and reached 

 the Warren. Some say our fox went right through the Forest with a few 



