396 LEAVES FROM A IIUNTINCi DIARY 



my disposal, for, as I have remarked before, Mr. Cockett 

 knows a good thing- when he sees it. 



" Just a moment, gentlemen," said Jack as he came galloping up (was 

 he on "Catapult"?) as the hounds, giving tongue, leapt out of the covert 

 and tore down the hill for Colman's before swinging round for Beachetts, 

 where eventually the rest of the field caught them. Before hounds could 

 be got together again out of covert invaluable time had been lost. That 

 a good hunting run w^as subsequently brought off was entirely due to the 

 marvellous skill and patience shown by our huntsman in unravelling the 

 tangled web of this fox's mazy wanderings. Making some extraordinarily 

 good casts, which, unless you followed pretty closely, you soon found 

 yourself half a mile to the bad, he gradually worked out as good a 

 hunting run as you could possibly wish for over a deep and very rough 

 country, and did not relinquish the pursuit before Beacon Hill Farm was 

 reached. 



Folk in the grass countries say that they never remember the hunting 

 season winding up under better auspices. Scent good, foxes plenty, 

 and the going perfection. Even from Harleston's extensive coverts the 

 Pytchley scored a good run on Friday last. The big dogs, forcing a 

 fox out of these woodlands over the railway, raced him at top speed 

 for about fifteen minutes by Holdenby, leaving nearly all the field in 

 the lurch. From these they hunted on very steadily for another hour, 

 by Spratton and back towards Harleston, without bringing their fox to 

 hand. During the day several of us had the opportunity of sampling 

 the Northamptonshire brooks ; they certainly do not compare with Essex, for 

 they are treacherous and boggy to a degree. Stay a moment, I had 

 forgotten Bailey's brook in the Canfield country, which he discovered 

 upon the same day. Nothing like it except on Christmas cards had been 

 seen before by a good many of the Essex thrusters. In the words of the 

 Belvoir bard : — 



" They saw a scarlet ' Somersault ; ' 

 A splash the water stirred, 

 And gleaming through the glittering wet, 

 A pair of boots and spurs (nothing else). 



They saw a dismal dripping frame 



Rise from the muddy deep ; 

 At first an imprecation came, 



About that cursed leap." 



But afterwards, as the mud was raked out from 'twixt collar, coat and skin, 

 mouth, nose and eyes — for you can't take a header into two feet of soft, 

 black mud, and remain stuck fast for a minute-and-a-half at the bottom of 

 a brook for nothing — he joined in the hearty laughter that greeted his 

 recovery, and galloped off home for a change of clothes. 



Of Tuesday's meet with Mr. Sheffield Neave's Stag Hounds I can only 

 offer a very meagre description. It certainly seemed Hke old times 

 meeting at Canes, nor can we ever recall a larger muster at this most 

 popular tryst. Even Mr. Hart's hospitality must have been fully taxed, 

 for our numbers were legion. How much easier to make good resolutions 

 than keep them. Cantering up late to the meet with one of my boys, with 

 no intention whatever of following the chase, but only just to show him a 

 stag, which he had never seen (he declared) out of the Zoo before. The 

 sight of the noble Monarch of the Glen speeding away over a heavenly 

 country at a racer's pace, in search of that freedom which he hoped to 

 attain, was too much for the most heroic resolves, and with the rest of the 



