86 FOX-HUNTING RECOLLECTIONS 



hour of the day draw the thickest gorses with 

 more dash and determination than any pro- 

 fessional I ever saw ; and another thing, he 

 always had them steady from riot. I have seen 

 a hundred hares before the pack when puzzling 

 out a cold line on the chalky hills, but no hound 

 of his would ever look at a hare under any circum- 

 stances, not even in the wildest weather. 



An unwelcome feature in this country were 

 the dense fogs, which often came on suddenly 

 without a minute's warning, and I remember 

 that many of the field used to carry small com- 

 passes in their pockets. A great friend of mine, 

 Mr. Godfrey Webb, was staying with me at 

 Netheravon; he was well known in London life 

 but not much accustomed to the chase. I per- 

 suaded him to have a day's hunting on a steady 

 old horse of mine named Mortimer. In the 

 afternoon of that day, when the sport was nearly 

 over, we suddenly found ourselves in a fog and 

 separated from my friend, who did not make 

 his appearance at our house until late that 

 evening. He then told a pathetic story of the 

 sudden darkness which had come on about four 

 o'clock, how he finished his last sandwich, how 

 he drained the remnant of his flask, how he 

 smoked his last cigar, and then resigned himself 

 to his impending fate in the open air until day- 



