66 LEAVES FROM A HUNTING DIARY 



As hounds crossed the road below Deer Park he was with them, so 

 was the Mate, Mr. Barclay, Mr. Peel and his daughter, as without going 

 into Shatter Bushes hounds flew past it and over a wide ditch at the 

 bottom, and in a straight line over the next fence rode the leaders, Mr. 

 Peel and Miss Peel, Mr, Grossman (who was riding a lovely little black 

 horse, one of his father's breeding, with " Gladiateur's " blood in his veins), 

 and Mr. Ford Barclay. Those who went for the gate found it locked, Bailey, 

 didn't they ? but caught hounds at the brook and the bridge, and a very 

 compact and select little band it was, who, led by Mr. Buxton, clattered 

 over its wooden rafters. Warlies Park as usual carried a capital scent, and 

 hounds flung forward at a pace sufficient to show that the Master's grey was 

 tiring, for as we rose the hill he began to fall back. 



Just a hover in the road beyond the park, just a glimpse at the newdy 

 plastered razor-bank well bushed on the top, just a gleam of a bold black- 

 and-tan dog with waving stern plunging into the briary depths of the bank 

 a yard or two beyond, just a sight of " Sheila's" tail, and her rider landing 

 well over the bushed-up gate, the only tveak place in the fence, into the next 

 field ; and then we galloped up the road for Mr. Peel^s corner, the worst 

 of the lot, high, narrow, with drop beyond well covered with strong tree- 

 roots and briary growth. The bank, without its blind ditch, wanted doing, 

 and if it was the worst fence that we had met with in the run, not a man 

 or lady who arrived at that point sheered away from it. Still better, as 

 far as one could make out, no one fell at it, and fifteen minutes from the 

 time we had found at Nasing Coppice we concluded that the gallop was 

 over, as on a former occasion, when the fox gained sanctuary at this very 

 spot. 



Bailey lost his fox here ; he says so himself. Thinking he had gone to 

 ground, he neglected to make one of his bold forward casts, and lost a 

 valuable five minutes, only, perhaps, to give us a better hunt, as hounds 

 worked forward for another twenty-five minutes. Passing by Mr. C. 

 Webster's farm, another of our good-hearted hunting friends, warm-hearted 

 and generous to a degree — everyone has a good word for Charlie Webster. 

 Why certain gentlemen, including the hard-riding parson, got into a kitchen 

 garden need not be told ; but that he and our popular secretary came out 

 poorer by 2s. apiece is now a matter of history. Up the steep hill through 

 Riddens Grove, piloted by Mr. C. E. Green, and cheered by glad note of 

 hound, we climbed to its rim, and, jumping over the rabbit-burrowed bank, 

 found that hounds were turning away again from the forest to embark on 

 the small enclosures behind Copped Hall Green, sink the hill for Spratts 

 Hedgerow, and cross en route two roads, each of which was a delusion and 

 snare, O Mate, to entice you away from hounds and the leads of Mr. Harry 

 Sworder's bold jumping black, as the Cobbins Brook, again spanned by 

 handy bridge, came to view. 



Quite as fast as we could ride to them hounds drove forward up hill by 

 Mr. Nicholls' plantation, and on to Shatter Bushes, the rails in the corner 

 the only place for those who went with them. The huntsman and Mr. 

 Sworder flew them together, Mrs. Sewell and Mr. Green followed without 

 raising a splinter, but Mrs. Sewell's horse was getting blown, and two 

 fences further on sat doimi like a dog in a blind ditch to recover his wind, the 

 first and only time, she tells me, that she has ever got to the bottom of 

 " Jack." Hounds had now worked close up to their fox, for he was seen to 

 crawl into Deer Park dead-beat. Running through it, one hound gave 

 tongue over the Galley Hill green lane, and we almost decided to draw lots 

 to see who should go forward, for all horses were getting done. The 

 Huntsman, however, borrowed Jack's horse and got forward, for out of 



