402 LEAVES FROM A HUNTING DIARY 



him up, the hounds being beaten and the light faihng us at a 

 spot about a mile below the suspension bridge over the Exe. 

 In crossing the river at this spot I got into a boggy bit ; the 

 bay horse was frightened and plunged violently, but I kept 

 hold of his head and though it was a case of up and down for 

 some time in the river, I finally rode him out at the opposite 

 side with the loss of a fore shoe, which took me upwards of an 

 hour to get replaced, the smith having to make one, which 

 then did not fit, and afterwards having to make another, and it 

 was 8 o'clock before I reached Dulverton. A wretched dinner 

 was provided by Gillard, our host of the " Red Lion." some 

 fish dry enough to choke one and a joint that it would have 

 puzzled a shark to get his teeth into, and pear pie — a sorry 

 production. The bitter beer was good and it being so cold and 

 their tea so execrable, I took a second glass of beer instead of 

 tea ; I am thus particular in recording my fare because I know 

 not whether it was the insufficient food, or the strong exercise 

 too fatiguing for my weak state of health, or the relaxing effects 

 of the Dulverton air and the close foul quarters at the " Red 

 Lion," or all combined, that produced next day the most pro- 

 longed, troublesome and reducing gastric attack I have ever 

 been affected with, lasting for three or four weeks, wasting 

 away flesh and muscle and reducing my weight by nearly 

 a stone and requiring medical aid both at Lynton and 

 Saundersfoot. 



Saturday, September i8th. A soaking morning, showing 

 me what rain is in the west. The Harriers were to meet at 

 Combe, a nice old manor house a mile from Dulverton, recently 

 taken by Mr. Locke, who has lived chiefly in Greece. The 

 house, well furnished with stables, gardens, eight acres of 

 meadows and orchard, a private drive of a mile to the neigh- 

 bouring church and shooting over 1,500 acres around the house, 

 is let for only ^70 a year, the landlord paying all rates, taxes, 

 tithes and other outgoings. Mr. Poole (or Raule ?) the Master 

 of the Harriers, lives opposite the " Red Lion," and walked 

 about uneasily during the rain in hydrophalous garments, 

 surmounted by a hunting cap ; a big burly style of man, looking 

 like Neptune about to go hunting. At last, his patience being- 

 exhausted before the clouds, he started with his team, a varminty 

 looking lot, attended by his whip in the shape of a gaunt old 

 fellow on foot in shady fustian habiliments and leather leggings 

 with couples depending from his near side. We received calls 

 from Edward Karslake and the great sporting authority of that 

 neighbourhood. Dr. Collyns, a little elderly rotund figure, then 



