14 LEAVES FROM A HUNTING DIARY 



crash of music that would have dehghted old Jorrocks on a bye day ; 

 though, perhaps, he would have objected to the first fence, which had to 

 be negotiated by those who meant to secure a good start. Safely over it, 

 we turned sharp to the right and entered the road with the cunning ones, 

 in order to avoid an awkward fence, then met hounds in a grass field after 

 300 yards of hard riding, and enjoyed a few minutes of bliss as hounds raced 

 over the grass, towards Copped Hall, through a line of gates. Reader, did 

 you ever catch a swinging-gate with your knee as you galloped through on 

 a pulling horse ? Well, what's almost as bad is to have the same gate just 

 close in your face, with a pushing, crushing crowd behind you, calling out 

 as they arrive, " Lift it, push it, shove it ; can't you open it ? let me come," 

 &c. Such was my fate, only to find, after gettmg through, that hounds 

 had checked ; and, although tliey hit the line off and carried it over the 

 London Road into the forest, they could not do much more with it ; and 

 those who followed got their hats knocked about among the small forest 

 trees for nothing. A move was then made to Riddens Wood, and soon a 

 chorus of view-holloas proclaimed that a fox was away. Bailey soon 

 clapped the hounds on the line, and, with an indifferent scent, they ran to 

 Beech Hill Park, in the shrubberies around which place he was lost ; and 

 here many seized the opportunity of partaking of Mr. Edwards's hospitality 

 in the shape of refreshments for the inner man. A long trot brought us to 

 Galleyhill Wood (the property of Mr. R. B. Colvin, a staunch preserver of 

 foxes). Sed hoc die, it was drawn blank ; but Deer Park, an adjoining 

 covert, produced what we wanted, but, owing to a bad scent, hounds 

 could only hunt for a few fields. A heavy fog, which had been hanging 

 about more or less the whole day, and the lateness of the hour, put a stop 

 to any further proceedings. So, lighting our cigars, we jogged contentedly 

 homewards, reflecting that if we had not had a brilliant run, yet we had 

 seen some foxes quite capable of giving us one on a better scenting day. 



Wednesday, Nov. 12th, 1879. — As unpropitious a day for sport as one 

 could well imagine. The wind blowing a gale and bitterly cold, giving 

 rise to the most gloomy anticipations of sport, which a sharp trot to 

 Harlow Common, our rendezvous, did not serve to dispel. I was not 

 surprised to see a large field out, as Essex sportsmen have a reputation for 

 not being easily deterred by stress of weather ; and they certainly did not 

 belie it on this occasion. Covert coats and plenty of confidence in hat- 

 guards were the order of the day as we stood shivering in the icy blast 

 which swept across the common, waiting for the usual law to expire, which 

 Sir H. Selwin-Ibbetson, our field master, so considerately allows to late 

 comers. And here let me pay a tribute to the efficient way in which he 

 manages the field, for by checking people from surrounding all sides of the 

 covert, foxes have a chance of getting away. 



" Knew there would be no scent." " Wants a good rain before there 

 will be any." " Wish I hadn't come out." These and similar croaking 

 remarks greeted my ears as we trotted towards Latton Park coverts, which 

 are always full of foxes. The hounds soon forced a young one out, but 

 doubling back directly, he left a mouthful of fur behind as he regained 

 the covert. Luckily for him, at that moment an old dog was viewed away, 

 and the hounds were quickly laid on, and hunted slowly over the first 

 field (a stubble one, mark). Crossing a lane, in which anyhow one eager 

 sportsman came to grief, they raced with a capital scent towards Epping, 

 over a beautiful line of country, nearly all grass, and the fences, thougli 

 blind, very negotiable, though of course here and there you had to sit 

 down and send your horse at them. Prominent amongst a score of good 

 men riding well to hounds were Mr. George Hart, Mr. George Dawson, 



