3/2 LEAA'KS FRO:\I A HUNTINC; DIAKV 



C. E. Green, taking- his own line, was a prominent figure 

 in the van— fellows who take their own line are the ones 

 to catch the Speaker's eye. never those who follow in the 

 ruck. Crossing a narrow lane before reaching School Green 

 Farm, Mr. J. Felly's horse came clown [the ice zvas not out of 

 the bank, and the same gap had been scraped to the bo7ie in 

 the morning), and depositing his rider in the bottom of the 

 ditch, set off on his own account down the lane. Luckily 

 for him Mr. G. Sewell had just jumped into it on his right, 

 and immediately hooked the runaway, or Mr. J. F, would 

 have seen no more that evening. 



Next crossing a rough meadow in the morning horses' 

 hoofs had rattled where they now sank deep in through the 

 crust (the thaw was beginning- to tell). A nice little rushy 

 fence at the bottom, a scramble up hi// tJiroiig/t an ice-bound 

 corner, a sharp turn to the right, a slippery bank, and Mr. 

 William Law, of School Green F'arm, was cheering us on, 

 cap in hand, with a cry of "he's nearly done," undoubtedly 

 hoping that his arch-enemy, the Old Bosley Fox, would 

 be caught at last. 



Hounds must have been close at him here, for they com- 

 menced running much faster, fence after fence, to the right, 

 each and all requiring a hunter, or a gallop of loo yards down 

 a lane and a sharp turn up the road ; and hounds were 

 streaming across it and down the well-furrowed ploughed 

 field beyond, each man in his own furrow. That and all the 

 ploughed fields we crossed in the run rode like a flower 

 garden, or there would have been but small chance even for 

 those best mounted (Bailey was riding a rare good one, a 

 black) of living with hounds at the pace they were going. 



Those who did not leave the road before reaching the 

 Talbot, were only just in time to see hounds cross it, and 

 those who rode in the wake of the pack were either too 

 excited, too eager, or too far behind to catch Mr. Green's 

 horse, which having come down a rare crump at a trappy 

 blind ditch, made for the Moreton road of his own sweet 

 will, and although one of the whips set off in hot pursuit, he 

 was not caught for many a mile — he ought to have been 

 nabbed at the gate. This was a rare bad stroke of luck for 

 his owner, as it cost him the run, one of the very few he has 

 dropped in for this season, as he didn't make a start till 

 Christmas. 



We were after no woodland fox or he would have slipped 

 through Bobbingworth Wood on the right, and put Capt. 



