84 LEAVES FROM A HUNTING DIARY 



Good luck to both ; for we came away a united field to Thoby Wood, 

 and every one got another chance of a dip in the lucky bag, as, to Mr. 

 Ridley's halloa I believe, a good fox went away in the direction of 

 Fryerning. Two fields and we were down at a brook, the leaders pulling 

 up and scanning it, and an irresistible cry ringing out, " To the left for the 

 bridge." The length of a grass meadow you had it, and the gate swung 

 easily to Mr. Hull's hunting crop, to be caught as it swung by Mr. Lee on 

 the chestnut. Two Mr, Lees out ; which was it that fell ? 



And where were the hounds ? Running the brook banks, and parallel 

 on the far side rode the bridge contingent. Wrong as usual ; for two fields 

 they rode and rode to find that hounds were leaving them as they turned 

 sharp back. In or over or back by the bridge, which was it to be ? Mr. 

 Fitch on the grey went in and out. Mr. Bevan hit off a footbridge, which 

 his horse cleverly jumped. But most of us had something to be thankful 

 for that hounds dwelt sufficiently long in Fitz-Walters to give us a chance 

 of catching them. But there was fun to be had on the journey thither, 

 even if you missed the treat of seeing Mr. Morris' timber-jumping grey 

 vaulting iron railings. (Iron railings ! methought these were Roly's copy- 

 right.) How beautifully Mrs. Howel Price's little bay landed into the 

 road over hedge, ditch, and drop, I cannot forget. She had ample time to 

 take a pull at her reins, as the big dogs ran the covert to its extreme limits, 

 to cross the brook at a spot where two days previously you would have 

 looked in vain for a ford. 



A heavy piece of sown land, and the Master keeping well up the furrows 

 . was an example to be followed ; and shortly afterwards a bold rapid cast 

 of the huntsman's up to the verge of Park Wood — a stroke to be admired — 

 as following up his clue he struck the line of his fox into Canterbury 

 Springs, where Tally Ho back, and we thought they had nailed him. 

 Easterby cap up on the grass beyond, hounds came away with a will, and 

 with a ravishing scent drove forward after their fox — Col. Fane, Capt. 

 Tufnell, Mr. Howel Price, and Miss Tippler, riding her brother's well- 

 known skewbald (didn't this horse once belong to Mr. Longbourne ?), 

 getting away on excellent terms on the right of the covert, the Master 

 and huntsman and the majority keeping to the left. Over a rough but 

 sporting country men, and ladies too, sat down to ride ; and, riding as she 

 always does when hounds run hard, could be seen Miss Morgan in the 

 front rank ; while the black thoroughbred was carrying her owner to the 

 finish she meant to see. In and out of roads and lanes, if many fell, no 

 one turned away from a fence, or ceased riding a second before they had 

 cleared the High Woods and reached Weald Park. Through that wood 

 comes to my brain e'en now the fleeting vision of the leaders who were 

 steering their course on the left over the crumbling bank — Mr. Waltham, 

 Mr. Sworder, Mr. Bevan, and Jack, and leaving it as they jumped in, Mr. 

 Ridley's flashing pink, on the right the Master's grey— and the huntsman 

 I'll swear, too — and up at the park palings, as soon as any, Mr. Price and 

 Mr. Crossman. By Mr. Arrow's house hounds hung a few seconds, and, 

 then turning back, ran hard over the grass vale to Brentwood. Up to and 

 through its very allotments they pushed their fox, and not a yard of wire 

 to catch you on the grass (the land of a sportsman, I am sure). 



Out of his country our fox knew not where to go, and, turning back 

 near the line, came back into the town and sought in vain to escape in the 

 garden of a man who is second to none in his love of a good gallop across 

 a country. The last 220 yards Bailey did on foot, but was so blown when 

 hounds ran into their fox that until he had had a reviver from Mr. 

 Lawrence's flask he was unable to handle him. Then on the lawn ensued 

 a scene which the owner of " the Cat " would have given his Sunday breeches 



