42 LEAVES EROM A HUNTING DIARY 



Hall Coverts, skirting which, they crossed the Moreton Road and the river 

 Roden, and hunted slowly up to Forest Hall, from which point they never 

 again got on terms with their fox, the sleet which began to come down in 

 sharp showers entirely obliterating all trace of scent. 



However, it was a capital hunting run. Those that like pace had it to 

 Belgium Springs : and from there to Forest Hall the distance as hounds 

 ran was at least 7 miles as the crow flies, a good performance so early in 

 November. Of those who went well it would perhaps be invidious to 

 select any, though no exception will be taken to Mr. Hart on a five-year 

 old, and Mr. Sworder on one of his own making. A boy on a cob deserves 

 mention for the plucky way in which he rammed him along, no doubt 

 finding it better sport, if not quite so exciting as bombarding Alexandria. 

 Of course there were numerous disasters, a cart rope and spade being 

 wanted in at least one case, and six croppers equally divided between two 

 others, who seemed rather pleased than otherwise. Mr. Trimmer, a hard 

 riding Australian, came to grief, I am afraid, as he did not show up at the 

 end of the run. 



Met in the rain at Claybury on Monday, Nov. 20th, where the huge 

 asylum now rears its head, not only met but found immediately. But 

 scent was not holding if the cherry brandy was acceptable on the top of a 

 fall near Mr. Alfred Suart's. A sharp fifteen minutes ring from Loughton 

 Shaws, and another cropper, is all I can extract from the diary notes of 

 that day. 



Starting from home at midday on Monday, Nov. 27th, I came across 

 hounds running hard from Brick Kilns to Man Wood, taking us close to 

 Down Hall ; our fox turned back and led us along at a good pace by Abbess 

 Roothing, close to High Easter, beating us near Lords. 



It was in this run that Major Tait had the misfortune to stake a 

 valuable horse, wdiich with the fatality that has been known to attend an 

 engine driver taking his final journey before retiring on his pension, he 

 rode for the last time, having sold him to Sir Henry for /80 a few days 

 previously. Another man broke his horse's back, and there were several 

 other disasters. Old Mr. Sworder and Mr. Chisenhale Marsh were going 

 very strong in this run. 



I can see the quiet smile on the great Colonel Anstruther Thompson's 

 face now, as he stood watching one or two of us have a cut at the 

 Dagenham Brook on Monday, December 4th, and fancy that smile 

 broadened out into a pretty considerable grin when Firr, though running 

 his horse at it (he was riding " Desdichado ") with energy and determina- 

 tion, dropped short. The Waterloo veteran, however, stood stock still, 

 for the brook was not an easy one, and there being no ford handy, hounds 

 had it all to themselves for half-an-hour on the other side. I am afraid he 

 could not have stayed out with us till the evening, for in the rattling 

 gallop from Curtis Mill Green at 3 p.m. (a big ring to Passingford Bridge 

 and over the river to Hill Hall) I find no mention of his name, but only 

 Bobby Wood's, Bevan's and Hargreaves' as being right to the front. 

 Bobby Wood was riding his grey horse " Glenmore," and I have a distinct 

 recollection of his giving us a lead over a very nasty foot-bridge. 



FROM MR. R. LOCKWOOD's DIARY. 



Saturday, December 23rd, 1882. — A lovely morning. Rode " Glenmore " 

 to High Ongar. A large meet. Mark on " Transit," Green, D. Smith, A. 

 Waters, Tufnell, &c. h'ound a brace in Witney Wood, and ran by Spains 

 Wood to Norton Heath up to Blackmore Woods, and lost 55 minutes. 



