!08 



LEAVES FROM A IIUNTIN(] DIARY 



and on one occasion with sla^hoinuls and when g'omg at a 

 hrook, stopped dead to allow a tail hound, that unnoticed by 

 Mr. Morris had slipped in front of him, to get over, and then 

 pulling himself together hopped over at a stand. 



Mr. Neave acted as a whip (perhaps one of the most nerve- 

 trviiiL^- operations) to staghounds for several seasons. This was 

 durin'o- the mastershij) of his brother. Mr. Sheffield Neave, of 

 the Essex Staohounds. To bring on the tail hounds over a 

 stiff countr\ when all vour friciuls are lost to sight (though 



Edward Neave 



l)erhaps to memory dear, according to the way they have been 

 riding), or turn hounds at the end of a long run on a tired horse, 

 a man must ha\ c his heart in the right place; but who ever knew 

 a Neave with his heart in the wrong one ? So Mr. Edward 

 Neave. with his horsemanship, bold riding, and inexhaustible 

 patience, made an ideal whij). 



The Merry Fiddlers was the fixture for the last day of the season 

 1890-91, and a dark-clad lot of sportsmen they were who turned up to see 

 the last act of the drama on Saturday, April 4th. Dark clothed ? Yes, 

 certainly ; for, lieside the Master, the Messrs. Price and Waters were the 

 only sportsmen who had donned the orthodox pink. But, messieurs, the 

 day was worthy of a pink. Jim Cockayne, who since Bailey had been laid 

 up had carried the horn with such success, cheered on the hounds — a mixed 



