126 



LEAVES FROM A HUNTING DIARY 



knows that his place will then be a good one when hounds 



Snatched from the Frost. 



And so it looks as I pen these lines on Wednesday evening (January 

 2oth, '97), after as good a day's hunting as one could wish for. Were we 

 not stopped last Saturday ; and on Monday the country was white with 

 snow, which thawed too slowly on Tuesday to make any but those as 

 sanguine as the young Haileyburian hope to be out on the morrow. 



With a dull leaden sky and searching east wind, freezing as it blew, and 

 roads covered in many places with frozen snow, on Wednesday morning 

 even my sanguine Peter Leather doubted hounds going, or if they did, not 



Tattle Bushes 



before twelve. Many others relied upon a late meet, and taking it easy, 

 did not arrive in time to see hounds thrown into the first covert, Tattle 

 Bushes. I know no prettier covert than Tattle Bushes (the Punch Bowl 

 of the Hunt) from which to see a fox go away. Standing as it does on an 

 emmence from which the grass pastures slope sharply down to the vale 

 below, it commands a lovely view over the Lea Valley far away into Hert- 

 fordshire, the dome of Haileybury College being a conspicuous landmark 

 m the far distance, while nestling at your feet is the historic building 

 " Nether Hall," at one time supposed to have been connected with Rye 

 House by a subterranean passage. 



The moment hounds were thrown in there was a crash of music from 

 the big dogs. " A fox ! " said Mr. James Green, of Todd's Brook. Scarce 

 were the words out of his mouth before a scream from the bottom end 



