2o6 LKAVKS FROM A IIUNTINC DIARY 



down the furrows! \Vh;it a pace tliey went; liow forcibly a pro-cham- 

 pagne remark came to your mind—" That they would run clean away 

 from us." 



Nearing Rye Hill Common. Locked by all that is venerable ! and "Done, 

 Sir ! " we exclaimed, as we scanned the gate. No, there was a corner on 

 the left, but you had to gallop left-handed after Mr. Hart before you 

 regained hounds, as they raced over the grass meadows up to Mr. Prior's 

 farm, and over Mr. Rickett's big newly-drained field, over which the 

 Master, Mr. Hart, Major Tait and Mr. Morris were nearest to hounds. 



Entering the Lower Forest at Thornwood Gate, hounds ran through it 

 at a great pace over the Epping Road, and then turned right-handed by the 

 side of the line. The Master's grey whipped round at the cleaned-out ditch 

 near the brick-fields, but yielded at the second attempt, accompanied with 

 a fierce stab of the spur, for the hounds were racing up the grass. 



Never stand dreaming, while yonder they're streaming ; 

 If ever you meant it, mean it to-day ; 

 Bold ones are riding, and fast t)nes are striding. 

 The Queen of the Valley is forward, away ! 



So Mr. Neave's lead was quickly accepted. Oh, you road skirters ! You 

 missed some fun as you passed under the bridge and shirked the line, for 

 the Oueen of the Valley had run parallel with it ; the Master was over the 

 next fence — a bank, sir, with a snow-filled ditch — and the hard-riding 

 stranger on the bay was on his head, but had time to catch a funker's cob 

 — mine, sir — before he got on again. Those who whisked over Mr. Avila's 

 spiked palings into his wood you could count on one hand, while some on 

 the left were making good play, led by that bold and accomplished horse- 

 man. Ah, the young one did credit to her pedigree. Who will ever forget 

 Mr. T. J. Mills' " Polly " ? and with Sir Peter's blood, she can waltz through 

 the stickiest plough. Oh ! Sewell, was it the pace that made the gallant 

 chesnut stick his head out and decline the thorny fence into the road ?"-^' 



Mr. George Hart, Mr. Avila, and Mr. E. Neave (the Master and 

 A.D.C.) were in the position they had maintained, and would maintain to 

 the end which had not come yet. How they raced over the beans ! The 

 fences were trappy, but the lane was handy for Mr. Scruby and others. 

 Hold hard, sir, on the Coopersall road, and take out your watch — thirty- 

 three minutes to here, and seven miles as the crow flies will take a lot of 

 beating. But the Queen of the Valley had grown distrustful of the snow 

 wreaths, or was determined to let the roadsters have another chance, for she 

 went, unviewed by any of us, towards Theydon Mount, and, bearing left- 

 handed, led us nearly up to Toot Hill before leaving the road to plunge 

 through a dark corner of Ongar Park Wood. 



How cleverly Mr. Hart's horse did the bank into the wood ! If you 

 wished to see hounds come out and hit the line off over the big grass 

 meadow leading to Ongar Park Farm, when blanched she had swung to 

 the right towards Blake Hall Station, you had no time to lose. Another 

 snow-bound fence, and the Master's grey flipped over the rails, with a yard 

 to spare, into the hock-deep snow. Mr. Howard was just over the stile in 

 time to turn them — did he mean it ? — as they left the small wood near the 

 line (" Mr. Morris, you certainly cleared away a lot of snow when you stood 



* The same fence and same cob, vide run in '96. Really, Sewell, you must get a fresh hunter 

 before you iry that fence again. -Ed. 



