ESSEX GATES 65 



A glance at the hounds which had trotted up showed them to be in 

 capital condition ; Bailey and the whips in their new pink coats looked un- 

 commonly smart, and none the worse for their early hours during the 

 cubhunting ; that there is nothing like them is borne out by the number of 

 cubs which have been killed this year, more than in any previous season in 

 tills country. Yet there are plenty of foxes left, for hounds had scarcely 

 been thrown into Brick-kilns before they found a brace, and bustled them 

 merrily about. Bailey got them away on the line of a fox, who led us to Man 

 Wood over several extra blind ditches, each of which took toll of the eager 

 thrusters. Our fox found plenty of friends in Man Wood, and the pack 

 divided and left half of us in the lurch, and if there had been a scent and a 

 straight-going fox, we should not have seen hounds again. With what 

 hounds he had Bailey very cleverly hunted his fox over a delightful line of 

 country, and ran him to ground near Hatfield. We do not reckon ourselves 

 to be timber-jumpers in Essex, but Messrs, Miller, Waters, and Bagot kept 

 popping over the gates as if they were hurdles ; but, for the benefit of those 

 who do not know Essex gates, let me at once say they are not Leicester- 

 shire, nor even Lincolnshire gates, but very low ; however, the top bar is 

 always strong enough to turn anyone turtle. 



We next went back to look for our friends whom we had disturbed in 

 Man Wood and l>rick-kilns, but they had slipped away. Most of us here 

 seized the opportunity of partaking of Capt. Meyer's hospitality, when, at 

 about 3 p.m., some bread and cheese, washed down by a glass of the best 

 home-brewed in the county, was most acceptable. There was a nip of frost 

 in the air as we jogged homewards on horses fit to go again the next day. 



