^4 LEAVES FROM A HUNTING DIARY 



holding up his liand and keeping the road drivers from crossing the scent), 

 he took us back at a good pace to Apes Grove, as there was someone 

 holloaing like anything you please near Bishop's Hall. Bailey lifted his 

 hounds on, but they hit off the line of their hunted fox — mark, hunted fox, 

 for the man screaming at Bishop's Hall was holloaing a fresh fox. Conse- 

 quently a great many lost the run, as from this point hounds ran like 

 smoke through the same plantations we had threaded in the morning. 

 An up-jump into it, a blind ditch out, a couple more banks peculiar to 

 this country, in and out of the Abridge Road, and it was at once evident, 

 as hounds swung down a steep hill and bore away to the right, that he did 

 not mean Hainault Forest. This was a second unlucky turn for those 

 who had made for Bishop's Hall. There were some dozen with hounds, 

 piloted by Mr. Suart on " St. George." As they crossed the brook near 

 Gravel Lane they all closed up together in their eager endeavours to find a 

 way over. Its width, with rotten banks and rails on the far side, forbade 

 any idea of flying it. Mr. Hargreaves, on " Ugly Boy," and a man on a 

 grey cob, were the first to essay fording it, where there was a foothold on 

 the other side just wide enough for a standing jump at the rails. 



"Go slowly at tiinber " is a maxim that may be obeyed too well, as it 

 was in this case. Mr. Hargreaves' horse failed to clear the rails, smashed 

 the top one, and came down ; luckily his owner fell clear of him. The 

 grey got safely over, and a stranger on a bay, who had been well to the 

 fore all the time, smashed another rail a little to the right, and made a way 

 for others to follow. The grey was evidently a timber-jumper, as he dis- 

 appeared like a bird over a post-and-rails in the corner of the next fence. 

 Hounds turned to the right here, and checked as they got into the Abridge 

 Road. Bailey came up and cast them down the road, and they soon hit it 

 off through a plantation into the meadows fringing the river. Down they 

 went to it, and kept down its banks for a short distance. Alas ! our fate 

 was only deferred, for over they went. No one knew of a ford, and the 

 river Roden, though narrow, is probably one of the boggiest in the 

 kingdom. Mr. F. Green, however, made no bones about it, but coolly 

 walked in, and by scrambling and swimming got over. Bailey, who 

 couldn't swim a yard, followed him; so did three others— Messrs. Prowler, 

 Colvin, and Barclay. The two first plunged under the railway near 

 Chigwell Lane, only to find that the fox had not crossed it, but had gone 

 into Loughton Shaws, which the railway bisects, and had the mortification 

 to find the railway gates locked when they tried to get back, and saw the 

 pack gradually fleeting away in the distance. Some ten minutes were lost 

 in getting the gates off their hinges, as they had been nailed down, and 

 by that time a panting crowd was up, who, more prudently, had gone 

 lower down and found a ford over the river. Messrs. Colvin, Barclay, and 

 Fowler, more lucky, kept to the right of the railway, and joined the' pack 

 as they issued from Loughton Shaws with what proved to be a fresh fox, 

 and ran him to ground at Theydon Hall, within a mile of the Shaws. A 

 most extraordinary thing occurred after going over three fields. Bailey got 

 a view of the hunted fox in the middle of a ploughed field, with a single 

 hound trying to tackle him. Although I believe a grand-daughter of the 

 celebrated dog Stanley, who could kill a fox single-handed, she was unequal 

 to the task, but kept a careful watch on him. The poor beggar was too 

 done to get away, and lay down. After expending a good deal of vocal 

 power Bailey got the hounds back; one feeble effort and his doom was 

 sealed. 



Altogether this was a good hunting run of about an hour, most of it 

 very fast— no point to speak of, but over quite a new line. Unfortunately 



