CONFLICTIN(; EVIDENCE . 29 



AU this at Mrs. Sewell's Palace of Varieties entertainment, at which 

 so many of the dandies of the Hunt turned up in all the bravery of their 

 pink coats. 



Weighing all the above evidence carefully without help of jury, we 

 should say that it must have been a very useful day. Why ? We can 

 dismiss the mate's evidence ; he must have been out of it. 



Mrs. Waters, we happen to know, was riding a very good horse and 

 got well away. 



The Huntsman didn't kill. 



As for Mr. Jones, now he is a regular subscriber to the E.T., it behoves 

 one to be very careful. But, sine dnbio, he must have been one of the very 

 few who left the forest and crossed the railway on good enough terms 

 with hounds to see them run their fox to ground. 



Friday. — I know precious little about Friday, but heard rather a good 

 joke from a fellow guardian* at the board on that day about the previous 

 Saturday. It seems he had come to grief in the brook below Sewald's 

 Hall, and only emerged with the loss of both leathers. While groping for 

 these in its miry depths a hat came floating down stream. " Aside to a 

 friend," but not sotto voce : " Ah ! some other poor devil has been in 

 the brook, here's his hat all plastered with mud." Friend (going into 

 convulsions): "Why, you fool, don't you know your own head gear?" 

 In the hurry and excitement of the moment he hadn't missed his own 

 beaver. 



Saturday at W^illingale hardly adds much to the length of my 

 yarn, though a difference of ten minutes in time ; and it might have been 

 spun out to unreadable length before Monday came to be dealt with. 

 What a day it was ! The sun shining out in bitter mockery. Not a 

 particle of warmth in its glare as the icy blast swept in furious gusts over 

 the winter landscape. 



11.30. Hounds would just be drawing the first covert. Perhaps 

 starting on the run of the season as the old horse was brought round, 

 and we swung ourselves into the saddle. How hard and dry the road ! 

 Only a wet patch here and there, where it lay wind-sheltered. Where 

 were the bicyclists ? What were they doing, missing the run down to 

 Chelmsford with the wind at their backs ? For their purpose, perhaps, 

 the roads were perfection, in spite of clouds of dust hurrying along ever 

 and anon in our tracks as if 'twere March and not December. 



How clear and distinct the black hedgerows were silhouetted this 

 December noon against the emerald green of the root fields, a sign of 

 rain for which it was too cold ; of snow possibly, for it had fallen heavily 

 in many parts of the country the previous night. A quiet path at any 

 time when you leave the main road at the Talbot and strike out for the 

 Lavers. It was quieter than usual. As the good brown slipped over 

 the roads no sound broke over the ear save the moan of the wind as it 

 rushed through hedgerows and trees, deadening the rhythmic tread of the 

 horse's feet, so that the two hay carters in deep confabulation as they 

 walked by the side of the last cart didn't hear our approach, but they 

 returned a friendly greeting with good will, for hunting is popular, very 

 popular, with the working classes in rural Essex, and there's very little 

 barbed wire would ever disfigure the fair fences of a fair country if it 

 rested with the men instead of the masters, methought as we passed the 

 glittering strands on either hand of the farm near Matching. 



* Mr. W. R. Dent. 



