366 LEAVES FROM A HUNTING DIARY 



he has been a continual puzzle, and causing- regret and trouble 

 ever since I have had him. 



Saturday, November 4th, 1848. Row Wood was the 

 fixture with Mr. Conyer's hounds to-day for the first day's 

 regular hunting. The morning bleak and raw, a cold wind 

 blowing strongly, &c., &c. ; "Cognac" very fresh, pulling 

 hard, and going at his fences like a locomotive, but made no 

 mistake, &c. On Monday, November 6th, at Willingale, he 

 did. Hounds running slowly from White Roothing, "Cognac" 

 became intolerably troublesome and unmanageable. I allowed 

 them to creep on to Brick Kilns, and then took a line to 

 them which " Cognac " performed in steeplechase fashion and 

 time. After hanging a short time in covert, they drew slowly 

 on, and I was about joining them again when Palmer, of 

 Leaden Roothing (the "King William") being in the way, 

 creeping down the side of a fence, I called to him to move 

 on and then put "Cognac" at the fence. It was but a small 

 one, but he went at it at his usual slashing pace, slipped into 

 the ditch and fell on the other side, throwing me clean on my 

 head, my heels going over, and so on to my back, a complete 

 somersault. It tried the strength of my neck and vertebrae 

 and shook me not a little. Fortunately, it escaped my knee, but 

 feeling my head and neck somewhat affected and the fox being 

 lost, I turned homewards on my road, reflecting on the different 

 behaviour of the two horses — the pleasure of riding " Carlow " 

 close to hounds, and the impossibility of getting "Cognac" 

 near them, except when they are going at racing pace, which 

 so seldom happens — and the loss of all the pleasure of hunting 

 at other times, it occurred to me that, after all, I am paying 

 too dear for my whistle in allowing the pride of riding a horse, 

 which had foiled all others to counterbalance the drawbacks 

 of being pulled and hauled about, as my friends will have it ; 

 and to-day with great appearance of truth risking life and 

 limb in riding such a horse. I cannot deny that he is unfit 

 for hunting and that steeple-chasing is rather \vl^ forte. 



Thomas Helme very kindly called at Blackmore to learn 

 if I were hurt and reiterated the oft-repeated regrets at my 

 riding the horse, and Beckington, notwithstanding the brilliant 

 condition of the horse, seemed quite delighted at my expressing 

 a doubt whether I should continue to hunt "Cognac." Think- 

 ing it better to act before a good run had perhaps put me into 

 good humour with "Cognac," I wrote at once to Smart, 

 Watkins, and Benbow, as to getting rid of him and supplying 

 his place and that of " Champagne " with two others. 



