i8o 



LEAVES FROM A HUNTING DIARY 



ought to clear all the mud off, lay a good foundation of clinkers and ashes, 

 having well drained it, then returf or clear-sand the floor. 



Bow-wow through the first wood. Hounds hung in the second until, in 

 answer to a ploughman's signal, the huntsman laid the pack on in Chaffey's 

 meadow. Mr. Collin was with us to-day, but not in mood Cedrician, nor 

 would anyone take up the gauntlet, or go within 200 yards of the spot 

 where he threw it down in his Curtian leap in the great evening run from 

 Hatfield town. What all the young bloods were up to, missing so fair a 

 chance of wiping out their defeat, puzzles me, for hounds went straight 

 down the long mead, straight over the yawning gulf— not a soul followed, 

 but ignominiously they turned away and sheered off for the Farm on the 

 left, two fields away from hounds. 





Row Wood 



From the road to Row Wood no one complained of the pace; Mr. Swire, 

 Capt. Bruce, and Mr. C. E. Ridley were going very strong on the left, 

 particularly Mr. Swire, who was jumping everything as it came, nor stayed 

 to open a single gate for anyone by Row Wood side. Nor would the 

 General allow the last one to be swung aside until he had his leap. The 

 lady who was close behind him, and who had been going most brilliantly in 

 this burst, had followed his lead ere the " open sesame,"' the coppers we 

 always carry, had been fished out of the waistcoat pocket, and we walked 

 through in safety, and in a few minutes saw the stick-heap fox handsomely 

 rolled over in a grass field close to the covert. Two dear little girls with 

 fair golden hair were up at the finish, but all the same I should have 

 fastened the brush to the bridle of Georgie Dawson's grey had I been 

 Master. Never have I seen him look more cheerful and gay, with face like 



