36 LEAVES FROM A HUNTING DIARY 



I believe the last gallop Hervey Foster ever had with stag hounds in 

 Essex — before he left the county for Ireland — was on Tuesday, February 

 28, 1882, when they met at High Easter Bury. How well I remember 

 this my first gallop with stag hounds ! My impression that hunting 

 with them was a very formidable undertaking made me feel uncommonly 

 nervous, very much the same sort of sensation a good many not unnaturally 

 feel at their first steeplechase. A large field assembled to meet the 

 Master, Mr. Henry Petre, including most of the regular followers of 

 the stag hounds, few of whom were at that time known to me, but 

 Mr. James Christy was there, Mr. Percy Tippler on his celebrated horse 

 " Katafelto," while the fox-hunters were represented by Mr. Hervey Foster 

 on " Satanella," the ill-fated black mare that shortly afterwards in a 

 steeplechase in Ireland turned a complete somersault over a stone wall, 

 crushing him and injuring his spine : injuries from which he never 

 recovered; Mr. William Symes on " Miss Templar," and Mr. H. J. Miller 

 on his famous grey mare ; Mr. Jimmie Walmsley, who said, " Now, Miller, 

 to-day for the honour of the Essex Hounds," while I was riding my 

 favourite " Bosphorus." 



There was a rare scent, and at the very start it became a steeplechase, 

 as the field, rapidly thinning out, we ran by Good Easter, Mashbury, 

 Chignall, and over Mr. J. Christy's farm at Writtle, where we turned 

 left-handed and crossed the river below Chelmsford, the Broomfield side 

 of the town, fifty minutes from the start, by which time there were very 

 few with hounds. Mr. Christy, riding his black horse " Hawks-eye," 

 got bogged just in front of me on the Chelmsford Sewage Farm at 

 Springfield (he has since told me that this horse, a noted puller, went 

 through several hands afterwards, amongst them Edward Lawrence of 

 the Cock Hotel, Epping, but none could ever steady him with hounds ; 

 finally, going for a London cabber, he went steadily enough). But the 

 hero of the run, Hervey Foster, had not come off unscathed ; as he rode 

 his blood mare as straight as a dart, he took a regular crumpler over one 

 ditch and lost his hat at another fence ; while equally well placed with 

 him rode Percy Tippler, ever and anon twisting his whip in his hand as 

 the deer-like " Katafelto " fenced on superbly, taking just in front of 

 Mr. Miller one unfastened gate that only wanted a push to open it, while 

 far behind was the Master tootling his horn like mad to bring on the tail 

 hounds, as we had only a couple or two in the front, and we had been 

 riding at the stag for a mile or two. Clattering into Chelmsford, Messrs. 

 Hervey Foster, Tippler and Miller went straight through the churchyard. 

 Whether they jumped the wall or not I cannot say. Running down to the 

 Maldon and Chelmsford Navigation at Little Baddow, we took our deer 

 close to a foot-bridge that spanned it. The only survivors of this rattling 

 one hour and thirty minutes being the Master, Messrs. Hervey Foster, 

 Tippler, H. J. Miller, Mr. W. Symes and "Bosphorus," and the Fox- 

 hunters were naturally rather elated with the sport, and their success. 

 Unluckily, Mr. Miller had lost a fore shoe, and sustained a bad over-reach. 

 Getting to Chelmsford, Mr. Hervey Foster went to seek a blacksmith and 

 returned laden with horse-shoes from wrist to shoulder, to ensure a fit, 

 (the smith following behind), and then shared with Mr. Symes and Mr. 

 Miller in the pleasure of two horses between three from Chelmsford to 

 Ongar, for the mare was ver}? lame. Hervey Foster was always ready to 

 help a fellow-sportsman. 



Never has there been known a more successful season with the above 

 pack than that Avhich has just passed away. The wheel of fortune has 

 indeed gone round in one continuous circle in sportsmen's favour, although 



