TIIK l'(^\ Ol' TIIK VKAR 297 



we can turn them. The idea of breaking, let alone jumping, was not on the 

 tapis. But it was a veritable cid-de-sac ; no going to the right, no turning to 

 the left of the ride, for the undergrowth was thick and the ditch much too 

 blind, and by the time we reached the end our retreat was cut off, for the 

 ride was full of confiding followers. 



Will no one have a cut at them ? was freely asked. A fair four-foot 

 they stood, with ditch beyond, but looked like breaking, when Air. Caldecott, 

 with a " Here goes; I never rode the beggar before," to our dismaj' cleared 

 them handsomely. He was only just in time, for Miss Jones had made up 

 her mind to have them, and, quietly collecting her horse, she landed him 

 over with a yard and a half to spare, giving a lesson in horsemanship to 

 my craven heart that I shall never forget, and shall always be proud to 

 remember. 



There were now lusty calls for a welter, and Mr. Price, accepting the 

 challenge almost before it was offered, launched his blood chesnut, but the 

 rails were a trifle too high even for that good performer, and dropping his 

 hind legs on the top bar, amidst hearty blessings and wide-echoed con- 

 gratulations, smashed it to matchwood. Who finished off the remaining 

 two feet must be left to the Archaeological Society to discover. I can only 

 affirm it had gone when we came back. If not re-erected we shan't count 

 the time misspent, having learnt a very useful way through this and many 

 other coverts that came under survey during this long and dragging day : 

 but all this is forgotten, all buried in the sweet remembrance of one of the 

 most stivring gallops I have ever had with hounds. 



Let me jot it down this Monday ev^ening' while memory 

 runs hot within me, and ere its colours fade away. Methinks 

 the JO all told, mostly mackintoshed and covert-coated in- 

 dividuals, had little notion of what was In store for them as the 

 hounds were waved into the gorse at Havering-atte- Bowser, 

 which has become one of the most famed coverts of the hunt, 

 the scene of nearly all our best sport last year. W^hat a debt 

 of gratitude we all owe to its most kind and hospitable 

 chdtelaiu, for while I write the fox of the year has gone out 

 on a journey he'll never take again, and in hot haste we charged 

 dowm the grass ride past the gorse. The kick methought 

 would soon be out of the chesnut in front at the pace hounds 

 were going. Away down hill to the spinney near the brook, 

 over the slippery black bridge, Henry John leading,* hounds 

 holding their own with ease, as horses plunged through a deep 

 root field, and crossed some more holding ground to the Forest. 

 A stout strand of roped wire lined it for some quarter of a mile 

 to our front. Hounds were running to the right, so we galloped 

 back 200 yards for the iron gate in the wire fence. Locked, 

 by all that's exasperating! It wouldn't come off its hinges. 

 Mr. Christy had a key — how it seemed to stick in the lock, 

 which yielded at last, and with a " Yonder they oo, up the hill 

 towards Stapleford Abbots," we charged in line over the 



* H. J. Miller. 



