176 



LEAVES FROM A HUNTING DIARY 



1,30 p.m. found us all en route for the Kelvedon Hall country, with a 

 certainty of a find in the coverts of that good sportsman and excellent 

 friend to hunting, Mr. Jones. Not one, but a brace ; and while Bailey and 

 the majority of the pack were going away towards Bois Hall with the old 

 customer, Mr. Waltham was away to the Menagerie after another, with 

 three couple of hounds, and Mr. Usborne, M.P., shortly afterwards 

 asking him, " where's Bailey ? " 



Yes, where's Bailey ? That's the question I wanted to know, as having 

 just changed "Jenkins" for "Joseph," I heard the distant halloa! and caught 

 the sound of hounds full cry over the rise of the ground beyond Beacon 

 Hill. Full cry up the slope the leaders were already rising the crest, Sir 



Kelvedon Hall Woods 



Evelyn in the van, and my friend on the mottled horse, hat in hand, 

 screaming himself hoarse as he cheered them on to the line. Through 

 the chain of woods what better hunting could you have had ? Were they 

 going ? Were they chiming along as they crossed the road ? You would 

 have said so if you had been on the spot to see the huntsman charge, 

 but charge in vain, at the bank out of it with rails on top, and Mr. Avila, 

 on the famous " Gaynes Park," trying, like the ostrich, to hide his head in 

 the bank ; while coolly, quietly, deftly handling her black thoroughbred, 

 Mrs. Grossman shot out from the gaping throng, and amid the scarce 

 concealed plaudits of the onlookers topped it most beautifully, just 

 touching the bank, and then hopping the rails. In the meantime Mr. 

 Grossman was busy with a chained gate, and I was being urged a little 

 further on to hurry up at a drop fence, over which two or three had 

 flown some unnecessary yards ; but the apology came at once, " I ought 



