'though the dust flies, scent lies 277 



justice to the capital spread which Mr. Lucking, of the Grange Farm, 

 offered to all comers. 



Not a very larger muster ; but Saturday's meets are never so large as 

 on Tuesdays, for which the best country and the best deer are always 

 reserved. The Master, his brother, Captain Digby Neave, Mr. Harrispn, 

 the keen, hard-riding secretary, who has probably seen more stag hunting 

 than any other man in Essex, Mr. Brindle, who whips-in to Mr. Neave, 

 Mr. and Mrs. W. H. Pemberton-Barnes, Mr. Craig, IMr. Gibson, Mr. 

 Marriage, Mr. and Mrs. Upton, and INIr. H. E. Jones, were among those 

 present. 



It was somewhat later than usual before the deer was enlarged in the 

 meadows near the house. At ten minutes to one Mr. Neave cantered 

 down the road with his eight-and-a-half couple of well-matched and level 

 hounds. I have always noticed that he likes to lay them on quickly, very 

 much like a huntsman who gallops up sharp to a fox covert. Leaving 

 the grass at once, they ran well over the plough to Brick Kilns, which, to 

 say the least of it, was encouraging, for in the dry state of the ground, 

 when as you galloped the dust flew, you could hardly expect to have them 

 run a yard ; thus Mr. Neave's system comes in well, for he insists upon 

 his hounds hunting, and they have to use their noses, and not rely upon 

 view holloas and exceptional scenting days for showing sport. Therefore, 

 however bad scent may be, you are always sure of a gallop. 



Running well through Brick Kilns, we turned sharp left for Man Wood, 

 just the opposite direction to that the carriages had taken, and this 

 induced Mr. Lawrence, an old hand too, to hang back a bit. On the 

 opposite side of IMan Wood we all got together, the stag in the meantime 

 having taken the lane to Row Wood. 



Mr. Jones, Ur. G. Brown, and three or four more who preferred good 

 going, even though it involved several extra leaps, kept on the left, and 

 so on over the brook at the bottom, while the remainder of us floundered 

 along the lane, which, once in, there was no getting out of. The deer, 

 jumping up in view, near Hatfield town, took us along at a rare pace 

 a biggish ring by Lancaster Springs back to Row Wood towards Barrington 

 Hall, where Mr. Borrow, on a good-looking four-year-old, cut in with us, 

 running up to Takeley at a pace that kept us moving over some very blind 

 ditches, from one of which Mr. Upton emerged with a very scratched 

 face. 



Pace improved as we turned along the meadows for Wilson Springs, 

 where, in the brook, our deer had soiled. Jumping up in view of the pack, 

 they went away a cracker, Mr. Barnes, being on the right side of the brook, 

 with Mr. Hull, who jumped in at once, getting away with the Master 

 on capital terms. The next three or four miles it was a regular steeplechase, 

 Mr. Barnes making the running in point-to-point form, and the light 

 Roothing ploughs rode like a flower garden. Personally (I know that it is 

 not orthodox to say so) I like this phase of stag hunting when hounds get a 

 view, and, if ever you gallop in your life, you have to gallop then. The 

 pace, however, began to string the hounds out, so Mr. Neave stopped to 

 get them together again, the stag having run clean out of sight, though the 

 country was very flat and open. Putting her up in some grass meadows, 

 we had some very pretty but slow hunting by High Roding Street up to 

 Garnett's, where, at the end of something over two hours, we came up with 

 and took our deer. 



All sportsmen in Essex, fox hunters as well as stag hunters, were very 

 glad to learn that Mr. Neave has consented to hunt the hounds next season. 

 There is no more popular man with farmers in Essex, for they know him to 



