JKNNINC'.S AND HIS nALI.ANT GREY I47 



Palmer's farm. The gates were locked, the ditch was blind, and the dun 

 cob nearly rolled on his rider, but flattened the fence, and Bailey was over 

 like a shot, hounds tailing up the furrowed field ; a deep drop on to Nasing 

 Common, hounds simply flew across it (Nasing Common always carries 

 a scent), Mrs. Uowlby, Bailey, the dun cob, and " Boycott" in the van, the 

 rest of us doing our best over the ant-hilly common. 



We all like tliat gallop across the common when we can get it. Usually 

 there are better things beyond. Mr. Green had the key to the coppice, and 

 reached the far side as soon as Jim, who crashed in and out in time to view 

 hounds away towards Galley Hill ; but on the cold plough scent failed 

 again, and no one but a heaven-born huntsman would have hit that line off 

 in the direction of Deer Park. 



There was hardly time to give horses a breather before we were away 

 through Deer Park and swinging down towards Galley Hill. Here hounds 

 and huntsman scored a great triumph. They stuck to the hunted fox, who 

 threaded the whole extent of this huge covert, and then retraced his steps 

 in the direction of Nasing Coppice. Patient and slow hunting brought them 

 to this snug little piece again, and a view of the almost beaten fox put new 

 life into every one. Ijoldly he faced the open. Lovely grass, flying fences, 

 burning scent could have but one ending. " Whoop ! " within a field of 

 Hunters Hall, and Mr. Jennings on his gallant grey was one of the few 

 who saw the finish of this good two hours' run. 



Monday, Epping Long Green, November 28th, wind S.W., but little 

 of it, and very mild. 



" Yon sound's neither sheep-bell nor bark. 

 They're running, they're running — go hark ! " 



And Jim's bell-like voice rings out clear and distinct, the " Gone away," 

 from the extreme end of Deer Park. 



'' Dash down through the cover by dingle and dell. 

 There's a gate at the bottom — I know it full well ; 



And they're running, they're running — go hark ! " 



— Charles Kin(;sley. 



Yes, my boys, and gallop as hard as you like, hounds have the best of 

 you to Shatter Bushes ; but the crowd emerge on good terms, and charge the 

 first fence in line, and are bang on top of hounds at the next, as our fox 

 has taken a very sudden turn. Warlies Park is reached, and merrily the 

 chase speeds down the brook. A sharp bend necessitates a follow-my- 

 leader at the ford which the huntsman discovers, back to Shatter Bushes, 

 horses lathering freely. " Outside," says the " Oracle "* on the chestnut ; 

 " Hounds are coming back to us," says the " Knight of the Black Cap," I 

 and " Bellows to Mend " say we who follow them, before the lost ground is 

 made up, for hounds are speeding on swiftly, silently like a dream : but, 

 unlike a dream, your nag responds to the prick of your spur and slackened 

 rein, and, as you regain the chase, you notice that there is no more twisting 

 and turning, but a bee line in the direction of Waltham is being worked 

 out. As we reach the hill that overlooks the vale that intervenes between 

 us and Waltham, a welcome check and timely caution of the Field Master 

 makes us pull up. That cast of Bailey's at the bottom of the ploughed field 

 is worth a king's ransom. As we charge down the hill and regain the 

 grass, hounds have settled down again, and Waltham Abbey is nearly 



* Mr. R. Lockwood. t Mr. H. Sworder. 



