FROM SCENT TO VIEW 2 J I 



Picking out tlie thread again in Mr. Rickett's long meadow, 800 hoofs 

 came thundering down it after hounds. Through the gate at the bottom 

 they turned up tiie hill, Mr. Tyndale White, in quite his old form, quicker 

 than anyone. Over the next razor bank, with a deep drop beyond, into 

 the wheat. Still on, over the stiff trimmed blackthorn hedge, past Maries 

 Wood. Mr. White skimmed the rails while Major Carter flew the brook, 

 and we reached the road, where the Master got us well in hand. 



Getting on Mr. Kemsley's land, hounds ran on towards the old church, 

 Mr. Kemsley himself being on foot as the chase swept by, and if the smile 

 on his face is any indication of what he felt — well, we can make ourselves 

 easy about any future bill of damages. Leaving the church on our left, 

 and safely over the water jump in the corner, we could loose our bridle reins 

 again. Down the pastures to Chambers' Farm ; crossing the road by a 

 scratchy bank, the Master's horse refused, but soon yielded to the pressure 

 behind. Down the hill to the lane, hounds crossed it, two fields from the 

 road, a weak place by a tree made weaker by Messrs. Fowler and Caldecott. 

 The dead branches crunched and crackled under their horses' hoofs as they 

 scrambled down the bank ; on through the splashy and boggy lane for a 

 hundred yards ; then right-handed we turned down hill, towards the 

 Cobbins Brook. Mr. Ikixton's mare was being sent along best pace, and 

 when he remarked that we were heading for Luffman's Earths, which, as 

 luck would have it, he had neglected to have stopped that morning, one 

 could not help recalling the anecdote of the famous Will Dean, who, when 

 his hounds were running hard in a line with Daventry, whence they 

 were at that time many miles distant, swore exceedingly at the whipper-in, 

 saying, " What business have you here ? " The man was amazed at the 



question. " Why, don't you know," said he, " and be to you, that the 



great earth at Daventry is open ? " 



But the great earths at Luffman's our fox was never to reach, for his 

 bolt was well nigh shot. Passing the keeper's house he ran the brook side, 

 by Spratt's hedgerow, and the pack, running from scent to view, went 

 tumbling over him into the brook. Forty-five minutes ; a six-mile point, 

 and at least eight as hounds ran. If not quite so fast as some of the 

 thrusters would have wished, it was fast enough for most, and afforded the 

 greatest enjoyment to the greater number. Mr. R. Lockwood, better known 

 as Bobby Wood, said that it reminded him of old times — as it certainly 

 reminded me, to see the masterly way in which he, Mr. George Hart, and 

 Mr. George Brown steered their own course and rode every yard of the run. 



On Wednesday, March 21st, in a bright sun and easterly wind, we met 

 at Copped Hall Lodge gates. No prettier place could have been chosen for 

 the purpose. Standing on the edge of the Forest at the junction of three 

 roads and surrounded by well-kept greensward, it looks its best at a bumper 

 meet of the Essex hounds, and a bumper meet in March goes without 

 saying. 



From far and near they gathered — on wheels, on cycles, and on foot. 

 To give you half the names of those present would be quite the impossible 

 thing. Lady Leucha Warner drove up before hounds moved off, also Mrs. 

 Gerald Buxton, while on horseback I noted Mrs. Bowlby, Mrs. Mcintosh, 

 Mrs. Carter, Mrs. Bennett, Mrs. W. Sewell, Mrs. Redwood, Miss Morgan, 

 Mrs. Waters, Miss Webster. 



There were many surmises as to the draw — none, I believe, were correct, 

 for we went straight off to Mr. Edwards' coverts at Beech Hill Park ; our 

 first visit this season, and probably the last, for it is a wire-begirt region. 

 Very little enthusiasm was exhibited when hounds were thrown into the first 

 covert, yclept Poplar Shaw. I felt none myself, for driving past the day 



