6S LEAVES FROM A HUNTING DIARY 



Nothing happened to disturb the monotony of drawing covert after 

 covert blank until we reached Kelvedon Wood, when what might veritably 

 have proved to be the most disastrous event of the whole hunting season 

 occurred, for as a sequel to the long frost and waning season a great run 

 nearly came off, and if it had, not a man would have been there to tell 

 the tale. Let me explain. The river was still frozen over with thick ice, 

 which, though it offered a very convenient crossing for fox and hound, 

 utterly precluded horses following by the usual fords, and hounds had 

 reached Stanford Rivers before even the huntsman realised that there was 

 nothing for it but to gallop back for Langford Bridge or Shonks Mill, the 

 one a mile, the other two, out of the way. Choosing the former, he had 

 the good luck to come up with his hounds, who had run their quarry to 

 ground. Had the fox gone on (scent was good, for he was running up 

 wind) say, to Blake Hall, Bobbingworth Wood, or Ongar Park, neither the 

 huntsman nor anyone else would have caught them. At 3.30 we were 

 drawing Knightsland ; at 5 most of us were home, tired and weary after 

 such a long day in the saddle. Two or three more such days, and vets, 

 will be having a busy time of it, and Tattersall's will be besieged by 

 hunting men. 



This world, can it show such a picture of woe 



As a frozen-out master imprison'd in snow ? 



His feet on the fender, he rides his arm-chair, 



Even Bailey avails not to soothe his despair. 



— Egerton Warburton. 



In the heart of Leicestershire the frost has been very loth to relinquish 

 his grip on the turf, and I should say that the Essex Hounds have taken 

 the field a week earlier than any shire pack. So, after all, hunting in a 

 plough country has its advantages, Master Walter, and in fifteen years' 

 time you will be the first to admit it. 



Hounds were advertised for Tuesday, the 2gth ult. Did Monday's 

 experience account for their not keeping the tryst ? for the country could 

 scarce have been worse to ride over. A by-day on Thursday, the last day 

 of February, was very well attended. Only to be out two hours, and in 

 that brief time to see all the fun that took place, was quite a stroke of luck, 

 and one which can only fall to the lot of those who hunt from home. It 

 required a mid-day sun to dispel the frost of over night, and one o'clock 

 had struck before hounds were thrown into Harlow Park. Finding on the 

 opposite side of the road, they were away at once for Parndon Woods, and 

 from the bird's-eye view I had of the proceedings, they ran at a great pace 

 for those coverts, and going out beyond, the few that had stuck to them 

 indulged in the very natural hope that they were in for a good thing. 

 Trotting quietly down the road with several other sportsmen, we were 

 passed by a gentleman''' on a blood-looking gre}', who had already had a 

 five-mile gallop on his own account round a ploughed field, and very soon 

 the pair were going again, and did not pull up before Nasing Common was 

 reached. 



By the time we had resigned ourselves to being hopelessly out of it, 

 and only a distant view of a few vanishing horsemen remained to remind 

 us of the late scurry and rush, we suddenly realised that a good bold fox 

 had been headed, and that Bailey and the Essex bitches were coming back 

 on his tracks as fast as they could. Running well through Latton and 

 Harlow Park, they turned to the right over the lovely country which leads 

 to the Lavers. Having left Parish Hall, and all those who, like m3-self, 

 were too timid to jump, behind, they appeared to have settled down for a 

 real stinger. 



* Poor Rex Caldwell. 



