THE CELERY HARE 



185 



hospitable owner, Major Tait, in expectation of finding another " celery 

 hare," had invited the Master and all comers to breakfast. A hare, whether 

 celery or broccoli fed, history opineth not, was soon on foot, and provided a 

 capital morning's sport — and two falls to a certain hard-riding young lady. 



Sometime, about 2 p.m., the party found themselves in one of Mr. 

 Pegrum's fields, near the Merry Fiddlers, when up jumped a great Jack 

 hare, with hounds close at him. Away o'er the brook, which a hard-riding 

 welter-weight stayed to explore, past Barber's Wood, with Major Tait and 

 Messrs. R. and D. Smith and young Hurrell, and one or two more with 

 them. At a great pace they ran over this grass, and rose the hill for Hill 

 Hall; then dipping down into the valley, crossed the treacherous Roden, 

 fortunately by handy ford, and getting into a cramped and difficult country, 

 hounds, within one mile of where they killed, and at least six from where 

 they found, shook off all their pursuers, and, alone and unattended, killed 

 this gallant hare. It was the best run, Mr. Vigne affirms, that he had had 

 for 50 years. 



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The recipient of this '-quite quiet '' notice from Mr. Vigne announcing a meet of his 

 Harriers must have been highly favoured, as Mr. Vigne was as chary of letting 

 anyone know where he was going to meet as he was of jumping a fence. Ed. 



I make no apology for this digression, but will proceed at once to tell 

 you how on Saturday, March 15th, at 3 p.m., with a wonderful intuition, 

 old Hurrell (the huntsman) selected another very likely field of Mr. 

 Pegrum's, and was rewarded by a hare jumping up right in view of the 

 pack, and scudding away down the brook, past Mr. Smith's house, at a 

 pace that, if they had held on straight, would have left us all behind. 

 Hounds were all in a cluster as they breasted the hill leading to the Hill 

 Hall coverts, and every second putting yards between themselves and their 

 nearest pursuers ; when making a curve on the brow of the hill, we got on 

 good terms again, and as they swept down into Barber's Wood, and dashed 

 into it with a crash of music which woke its echoes from end to end. 



Young Hurrell dived into Barber's at once, with hounds, while Miss 



