APPENDIX 407 



tear myself away, having enjoyed a good hunting run with one of the 

 pleasantest packs I know. Tlie fencing throughout the day was of a 

 moderate character, but amongst those who negotiated the fences in good 

 style, I noticed a Mr. Hossey, Captain Willson, and his sisters (one of 

 whom had a nasty fall, fortunately without sustaining any injury), and also 

 the brother" of the Master of Brecknockshire Hounds, on a well-bred 

 mare. 



MacAdam. 

 Capital Run with the BELvoiR.f 



With the barometer very low last Tuesday, and a mild atmosphere, I 

 started for the meet at Swarby Lane End, where was a goodly assemblage 

 of horsemen intent on gratifying themselves, now that stern winter has let 

 loose his icy bonds. Among those present I noticed Sir Thomas Which- 

 cote, two Misses Willson, Lord Burghley, Col. Reeve, Mr. Cecil Fane, 

 Miss Heathcote, the Hons. M. E. G. and H. Finch-Hatton, Captain 

 Tennant, Mr. A. Cross, Mr. Couturie, and Captain LongstafFe, Punctually 

 at 11.30 a start was made for Burton Plantations, where a fine fox, after 

 ringing round the wood for some little time, was run into. Money's Gorse 

 was the next move, and a successful one, as a find was soon proclaimed by 

 the music of the hounds in their thirst for blood. Working the scent 

 carefully, and carrying the line with great accuracy through Aswarby 

 Thorns, over W^illoughby Brook — which, by the way, was very full of 

 water, but still cleared by the huntsman in his eagerness to be with his 

 darlings — by Baker's Farm, they brought us on to the Scredington road, 

 where a slight check ensued. However, it gave us a chance of taking a 

 pull, and once more we were in pursuit across some heavy digging. 

 Captain Tennant, apparently, was on a flyer, as his horse preferred 

 jumping the gates instead of waiting to have them opened. Reynard now 

 attempted to sneak back to Aswarby, so that soon we were speeding 

 en route for the Thorns, but, thanks to the acuteness of a lynx-eyed 

 sportsman, a gallant bundle of fur was viewed stealing along a fallow 

 in the direction of Caswell's Plantations. Immediately the hounds were 

 on his line, racing over the grass for Osbournby. The ground now began 

 to tell, but the fences even more so, as they loomed larger and larger in 

 the distance. The field was getting more select. Threekingham Church, 

 with its gothic spire, nestling amidst a cluster of cottages, is viewed as we 

 race along, each vieing to be first, and reminding one of the well-known 

 line — 



When Greeks joined Greeks, then was the tug of war. 



Clattering through the Three Kings' yard like a regiment of cavalry, we 

 sped along the Swaton Road, where the road-riding brigade put in an appear- 

 ance, not having been favoured previously, as is their wont, by their friend 

 the high road. Sir Thomas Whichcote went like a bird, and made many a 

 younger heart flutter as he charged some high wattle, with its deceptive 

 companion, a broad drain. Leaving the road, we made for Stow Mill ; but, 

 Reynard having been headed on the road, or fearing the Horbling rustics, 

 skirted the village. After crossing the Bourn and Sleaford railway, we 

 dipped into the fens instead of making Folkingham Gorse, as some wily 

 sportsmen I know of thought that he would, and acting accordingly found 

 themselves riding a wild-goose chase. Only one flyer managed the rails by 

 the Bourn railway, namely, the Hon. Henry Finch-Hatton, clearing them 

 in fine form. Mr. AUcard, and also " a dragon ossifer," managed a nasty 



Mr. B. Dickinson. t From Field, February 5th, 1879. 



