36 



LEAVES FROM A HUNTING DIARY 



Farm, within a field of it, they turned sharp under the hedge, and crossing 

 the road, entered the lower Forest. Right cheerily they drove along, 

 running past the lake, and over the Epping and Ongar road, to Styles' 

 brickfields. And here local knowledge, which means in many cases 

 destruction, suggested keep down the road for Coopersale, and get over 

 the line ; but Mr. E. Ball, who had been going strong all day, jumping 

 everything as it came and always ready to give a lead, did not hesitate 

 a second and decided our wavering course as he charged up the bank and 

 darted over the next fence, closely followed by his Reverence on the grey 

 and a young lady* who, if we are not very much mistaken, is second to 

 none in the county in her skill in handling a fresh mount ; it is doubtful 

 whether the grey cob ever had had a side-saddle on before. 



Running in the direction of the Ongar line as hounds turned away 

 from it towards the Union house, to which our fox seemed inclined to 

 pay a visit before sampling Mr. Ginger's woods, we had to leave a 

 very tempting bridge and chance our luck in getting through the woods 

 with hounds, and emerging safely on the far side. "There is a gate in 

 the corner," shouted the Mate, who had already reached it from another 

 field mark, and we rode to his cry and a blind corner. I ought to 

 have known better, seeing the number of times I have ferreted that bank. 

 " Back," said the huntsman, while some were strugglmg to get through — 

 one of the successful ones being a lady,t who was riding a remarkably 

 clever bay. Back and jump into the covert it was, by which time the 

 Mate had done a little bit of rail-breaking for us, simplifying the bank out 

 of the wood, but even then the mighty groan that Cockie gave as he 

 hoisted the 17-stone avoirdupois up the steep incline might have been 

 heard in the next parish. But nothing would stop his Reverence now; 

 his blood was up, and in at the finish he meant to be. 



The finish was not far off, the lock of the big gate yielded to Jack's 

 stirrup iron, while Mr, Willie Sewell in vain kept running his chestnut cob 

 at the thick fence. " Did you feel sorry for him when he couldn't get 

 through ? " "I can't say that I did." Now we jumped into the triangular 

 grass field in which polo ponies are wont to winter, and up to Mr. 

 S. Fitch's farm and the rails that barred our egress. In vain did the 

 yokels pull at them, only ceasing their efforts for a moment at Mr. Newman 

 Gilbey's remonstance. Thinking that he was going to dismount and lend 

 a hand, we waited hopefully. Not a bit of it ; running his nag at them 

 with all the will, and the little room he could get, for we all crowded round 

 him, he tried to jump them. Wicked man! So he would have left us all 

 in the lurch, would he ? Thank goodness, the chestnut refused, and 

 leaving them to their fate and the yokels' efforts, we skipped over the bank 

 to find the Mate very busy with a roped up gate, and three, if not four, 

 including Miss Morgan and Mr. Cook, waiting patiently for him. What a 

 time he was to be sure ; at last he succeeded, and then broke on our view 

 one of the fairest scenes imaginable. 



At the bottom of a valley of beautiful grass fields, which to the east 

 stretched away in one long vista of undulating country, dotted with woods 

 of fir, beech and oak, and on the west cut by the gorse-clad railway embank- 

 ment, beyond which, the ground again rising, was clothed with magnificent 

 elms, Bailey and his hounds, with their pink or dark-coated followers, were 

 grouped round a sedgy watercourse, where, close at hand, our fox had gone 

 to ground, having given us forty-five minutes of real enjoyment. 



* Miss Georgie Waters. t Mrs. Waters. 



