1 86 LEAVES FROM A HUNTING DIARY 



Philby and one or two more got round on the left; one sportsman, on a 

 grey, getting a nasty roll, for it wanted a clever one to creep down the bank, 

 hop over the water at the bottom, and then flip over the hedge on the other 

 side. Here no doubt hounds divided, the bulk of the pack going away, with 

 young Hurrell close to them, towards Gaynes Park, while three couples 

 came out on the left. We had a very merry spin with these over the 

 meadows, back to Mr. Pegrum's farm, when young Hurrell stopped them, 

 and joined forces with the other hounds, which were hunting it out near the 

 Rectory 



Very prettily they took it over Mr. Mills's land, and back over the road 

 and brook, and away up to the covert on the hill again ; back this time 

 without going into Barber's, and another turn up to the Rectory, hounds 

 hunting every yard. Swinging past Mr. Mills's plantation they crossed the 

 road once more, and went up the hill. This time most of us stuck to them 

 for we could hardly expect a third turn back to Barber's, and were re- 

 warded by hounds running smartly down towards the river, across a big 

 plough, and then up to Bush Grove, and through the park, Mr. Philby on 

 his chesnut mare, followed by his sister on " Paddy," showing the way over 

 the rails. 



Across the grass hounds ran very fast up to the Hall, then bore back 

 parallel to the road. Fortunately, all the gates were unlocked, and we 

 could keep hounds in view as they went out at the Shalesmore end, and 

 then back to Bush Grove, only to come out and run down to the river, 

 which we did not cross. Turning back over the road up a wheat field, 

 hounds worked out a double the hare had made in a most marvellous 

 manner, and went away again at score up to Bush Grove. Unluckily, in 

 an adjoining plantation a fresh hare got up. Mr. Philby, who seemed to be 

 in the wars that day, having already had two croppers in his determination 

 still to be with them, got caught in a bullfinch, and was much cut about 

 the face. After running some time longer, Hurrell determined to stop 

 hounds, as it was getting late. 



Although these hounds had been running two and a-half hours since I 

 joined them, and had been hard at work all day, they did not seem to be in 

 the least tired, which speaks volumes for the kennel management of their 

 huntsman and the breed of the pack. But there is no finer judge of a 

 hound in England than old Mr. Vigne. 



Jogging home in a very contented frame of mind with the world in 

 general, and my cob* in particular (a recent present from a polo playing 

 friend), I fell in with two jubilant staghunters. They sang of a great run 

 with the stag over a magnificent country, and I subsequently learnt that a 

 remarkably good day's sport fell to the lot of the Essex — so one and all got 

 their share of the intoxicating pleasures of the chase on this memorable 

 Saturday. 



A long, dragging day of poor sport had nearly worn itself out in the 

 North Weald country on Monday, March 17th, when at 4 p.m. we arrived 

 at Beachetts. Bailey had already half drawn the covert when, remarking to 

 him that, as he took the far side, I would return by the same side I had 

 already traversed, I had the good fortune, just as the huntsman was 

 blowing out of covert, to view a fine old grey fox sneaking along in a very 

 quiet way. My view holloa brought him to his senses, and he went out 

 directly hounds were on his track into Gaynes Park Wood, through which 

 they pressed him very fast, just skirting the polo ground, ran on across 

 Miss Houblon's lawn, and over Avila's farm, up to the railway crossing. 



" Binjimin," given nie by Bob Ball. 



