364 LEAVES FROM A HUNTING DIARY 



enjoyment of the spirit of the chase, the frost was breaking up. 

 How grudgingly, how slowly you will bear me out when I state 

 that not before Saturday, February 23rd, could hounds take 

 the field, and hunting, though still dangerous, became possible. 



They tell me that a field of some thirty enthusiasts went out on 

 Saturday at High Roding Street, and that most of them fell. This does 

 not surprise me, but I confess to feeling somewhat astonished that even 

 Bailey and the Essex Hounds managed to kill a fox under such adverse 

 conditions in a preliminary run of twenty minutes, and to score another 

 gallop of fifty minutes before the day was over, for the banks were still as 

 hard as iron, and though a horse's hoof might penetrate for an inch or an 

 inch and a half in the middle of the fields before reaching the bone in the 

 ground, this would not avail them much when it came to jumping. 



Hunting on Saturday, to put it plainly, was tempting Providence and 

 courting grief and disaster to man and horse. Even on Monday, February 

 25th, when they met at Passingford Bridge, it was by no means safe. A 

 frost of six weeks, which has penetrated 18 inches into the ground, does not 

 vanish in a half-hearted thaw of four days ; consequently there were very 

 few who attempted to ride to hounds — that there were any, greatly surprised 

 me, more especially as those who did risk their own necks and their horses' 

 tendons (it was very good going for hounds) must, perhaps with one excep- 

 tion, have seen the shady side of five-and-thirty. I am only speaking about 

 the six foremost men— you shall have their names directly — who really rode 

 the run ; but before mentioning them let me first give you, as far as a bad 

 memory and worse powers of observation will permit, the names of those 

 who, following the fortunes of the Essex Hounds, still survive the unpre- 

 cedented climatic ordeal to which they have been recently exposed. 



Ladies first: Mrs. Bennett, the three Miss Buxtons, Miss Morgan and 

 her niece. Miss Jones, and on foot Misses G. and D. Prance. The men : 

 one of our masters only, Mr. Arkwright on his grey ; then alphabetically, 

 if you have no objection, straight from the subscription list : Mr. Baddeley, 

 Mr. Basham, Mr. Bevan, Mr. Caldecott, Major Carter, Mr. Christy, Mr. 

 Collin, ^Ir. Cook, Mr. Giles (he took a toss in the open), Mr. Gregory, 

 Messrs. Horner (father and son), Mr. Ketts, jun., Mr. P. S. Lee, Mr. R. 

 Lock wood (he also took a toss somewhere, vide a very dirty coat), Mr. 

 Michell, Mr. Morris, Mr. Nicholson, Mr. Patchett, Mr. L. Pelly, Mr. 

 Pemberton-Barnes, Mr. Price, Capt. Ricardo, Messrs. W. and G. Sewell, 

 Mr. Single, Sir C. Smith (on foot), Mr. D. Smith, Mr. Tufnell, Capt. 

 Wilson. Of farmers only a few, worse luck : Mr. Avila, Mr. Baker, Mr. 

 Mugleston, Mr. Saward, Mr. Sworder ; a small field, all told. 



This, however, could hardly have astonished any one outside Claybury, 

 for I boldly assert that the country was not fit to ride over. I knew this 

 before I started for the meet, and resolved not to jump a fence, and to this 

 resolution I rigidly adhered. Others there were who came with the same 

 intentions, but directly hounds found, all their good resolves were scattered 

 to the winds, and a good many more rode to the meet with an open mind, 

 but found, after jumping a few fences, that it was not good enough, and for 

 the rest of the clay stuck to the macadam and their cigarettes. 



If one proof more overwhelming than any other was needed of the 

 doubtful policy of riding to hounds on Monday last, was it not furnished 

 in the absence of our frost-loving welter, ■' who used to revel in such days, 



* Mr. C. E. Green. 



