404 LEAVES FROM A HUNTING IHARY 



(No less than four of the Petres were out on a day Mr. 

 Vickerman put in with his old favourites, the Essex Stag- 

 hounds, at Willingale, on November 24th, The Master, Mr. 

 F. Petre, on his chestnut mare ; his lordship on his black 

 steeplechaser ; their uncle, Capt. Fredk. Petre, from Leicester- 

 shire, riding a grey horse of his lordship's, and ^Ir. Arthur 

 Petre, a heavy weight and younger brother of the Master ; and 

 a good day it was, too, and fully described in three or four 

 pages of Mr. Vickerman's neat closely-written diary — as also 

 the run with the stag on Monday, December 27th, from 

 Fyfield, with one of the fine white large breed, half Russian, 

 which bore the name of the " Bishop of Waltham," from 

 having given them a clipper from Waltham Abbey the previous 

 season. 



The last entry in diary for season 1852- 1853 being- 

 Tuesday, April 1 2th.) "Tuesday week, East Grinstead. to 

 finish the season," were the words of melancholy import, 

 announcing this to be the end of one's healthful and exhilarating- 

 amusement, and that for months at least sombre work and 

 wearing anxiety would be unrelieved by these charming oases 

 of the desert. And yet the feeling was a mingled one, which 

 arose on reading this announcement, for the troubles, vexations 

 and disappointments attendant upon the endeavour to obtain 

 the recreation and yet attend to business and other weighty 

 matters, and keep unsympathising because unsportsmanlike 

 partners, in good humour, always makes the end of the season 

 feel like a sort of relief until it has ended, and one begins to 

 realise in the altered tone of health and spirits how much one 

 has lost and how well worthy it was of extra exertion to obtain 

 a taste of its delights. 



Will the day ever arrive when I shall be free to take as 

 many days as I like without question or difficulty ? * or shall I 

 then enjoy them as much ? The first question I should have 

 been inclined to answer more hopefully at the beginning of the 

 past season than I feel I dare do now at the close of it, and 

 this consciousness has immensely detracted from the pleasure 

 of what otherwise has been both a good and fortunate season, 

 taking it all in all. To the latter question I think I may 

 safely reply it would be very well worth sacrificing a little of 

 the keen edge of enjoyment to be spared the heavy conditions 

 on which it obtained, and that my hope and belief is, 

 I should really enjoy it more on the whole, in anything like a 

 decent country. 



* It did arrive, but I don't think Mr. Vickerman enjoyed his sport any better for it. "All 

 things are with more pleasure chased than enjoyed," says the poet. — Ed, 



