RIDING FOR A FALL 425 



A Good Run. 



February 6th, 1858. The very pattern of a hunting 

 morning, said I, as I left home this morning, wind south-east, 

 cool and rather raw, still and cloudy. We went on to Screen's 

 Wood, found instanter a brace or leash afoot, one broke away 

 over a fine line, and pointing for a fine country, but to my 

 chagrin at the moment, hounds stuck to one that looked like 

 Blackmore and so it proved. 



As I galloped down the ride from the far end of the covert 

 I comforted myself with the reflection that it would be all up 

 wind with this fox. The (dog) pack streamed over the park 

 at a great pace, and down to the brook by the little boggy 

 covert ; here they crossed but ran alongside the brook, James 

 Stallibrass, big Chafey and myself, then leading and in that 

 order, hounds having turned to them. "Tipperary" was raking 

 away and fidgeted by Chafey's horse just before him, and 

 not sufficiently regarding his fences, so that I naturally ex- 

 claimed. " Unless I overhaul that old Chafey I shall get a fall," 

 and at that moment the hounds quitting the brook and taking 

 up the running, I turned my gallant horse short to the left, 

 jumped the brook askew, crossed the next meadow and then 

 crossed a deep road with very queer fences both in and out, 

 and found myself alone with the hounds in the next field, and 

 then had the unexpected lead for the next quarter of an hour. 



Never did hounds run better, the fox just a field ahead, 

 going up wind. No huntsman, whip or master was near, and 

 they wanted no assistance, they streamed away, running well 

 together, over the very stiffest part of our country, with blind 

 and awkward fencing, crossing roads and lanes as straight as 

 a line without a check ; my gallant little horse was in his glory, 

 with his eye on the hounds taking every fence with them. It 

 is not often I speculate upon making a mistake before it has 

 occurred, but so bad were many places that at least six or 

 eight, I felt I was riding for a fall ; but there was no help for 

 it. But my little beauty, as clever as he is gallant and quick, 

 never made a mistake. The first glimpse I got of any horses 

 whatever, was not until I was crossing a meadow on Ward's 

 Farm, with a water course in the middle of it, and turning my 

 head just as I was jumping it, I saw James Stallibrass, for the 

 first time since I had quitted him at the brook, putting on the 

 steam and looking mischievous, as if he were trying to over- 

 haul me (and so he was, as he afterwards admitted) ; but the 

 turf was sound for my horse as well as his, and so catching 

 hold of "Tipperary," and the hounds at the moment getting the 



