94 LEAVES FROM A HUNTING DIARY 



and what more regal offer from a keen pheasant shooter, with a house full of 

 guests and not a shot yet fired in the coverts, would you have had ? And 

 to Down Hall we went, not before, however, Mr. Porter Mathews' face 

 had clouded o'er with disappointment at his cubs not at home, and Brick- 

 kilns and Row- wood of ancient renown had failed at the test. 



" Here they come ! " we remarked to a man as the cocks' forward could 

 be heard in the first covert disturbed. May they rocket higher than ever, 

 my lord, when your shoot comes off. But hark ! a moment. The big dog 

 hounds are giving tongue, a fox is afoot, and with a roar they settle to the 

 scent, and race through the policies and through the avenue covert to mys- 

 teriously baffle hounds. Did he go treewards ? If not, ask George Dawson 

 to solve the mystery, and note that he lives for another day ; and, further, 

 that Down Hall has added another flower to the sweet garland of sport that 

 clings round its illustrious portals. 



To Matching Park rode the thrusters about 2.30 p.m., and home rode 

 a large contingent from the Chelmsford side, and yet they filled up one ride 

 and lined another in the famous covert of Matching Park ere the dark red 

 rover, that was viewed tlirice across its rides, fled the covert to leave half 

 of us in the lurch ; for, pinning our faith to the fagot stack of last year, we 

 found our mistake as hounds swung away to the right and the survey of the 

 country began to be made in sections of twos and threes. Every fence had 

 someone riding up it, and terrifying you long before you got there. Mr. 

 C. E. Green was nearly down into the first road, and the Major's " grey had 

 no room to spare as he went straight out of it. Mr. Cecil Savill was very 

 handy at a gate, but who the man in pink, afoot in a long narrow meadow 

 fringed, if not by a brook, by a ditch, that bore close resemblance to one 

 who asked us to send his horse back, was, we have not the slightest 

 idea, for 



" The pace was too good to inquire," 



but we dubbed him a philosopher, for he was taking it easy, and voted him 

 a straight rider, to have arrived at that stage of the run dismounted, and his 

 horse out of sight. 



On a fat horse, and with a bad start, you couldn't make much leeway, 

 but you could enjoy the fun, and know that the embers were not quite 

 raked out, if you arrived at Belgium Springs in time to see the two pinksf hop 

 over the gate, and Mr. Wederell vainly endeavouring to open it afterwards 

 for some of us to squeeze through in single file. Beyond Belgium Springs, 

 in a deep leafy ditch, hounds marked their fox to ground, and we heard how 

 young Mr. Tyndale White had shovelled his Galloway to the fore, and how 

 well Mrs. Arkwright, Mrs. Grossman, Miss Gilbey, Mrs. Hine, and 

 Mrs. Walter Buckmaster had held their own in this sparkhng gallop. 



Wednesday, November 4th. — Blackmore, and a bright, merry morning 

 in the woods on Monday's horse, and to note a few faces not seen at 

 Monday's meet. The popular secretary of the Hunt Club, Mr. Tyndale 

 White, looking uncommonly smart, and just back from his triumphs at 

 Kirby Gate, where with the Quorn last Monday he was lucky enough to 

 drop in for one of the best runs they have had for years at their opening 

 meet. The crowd were quickly choked off by an early brook. " Never 

 saw one so full in my life," said Mr. White. " Four men on each side of me 

 as I took my cut at it. But it's on!}' a young man's country,'" he wound up by 

 saying, " however much you may like it. There are too many collar bones in 

 the fences:' — Mrs. Mcintosh, Mrs. Waters, Col., Mrs. and Miss Fane, 

 Mr. Gerald Buxton piloting his sister, Mr. Helme (looking as keen as ever), 



Major Wilson. t Mr. Walter Buckmaster was one of them. 



