AND STIELINGSHIRE HUNT 



had been taken to by young Mr Cairnie, I met the 

 huntsman and 1st whip with 6 couples. Half 

 the pack were out during a fearful night of wind 

 and rain. Most reached home on Sunday. May 

 we never see the like again. 



The Champfleurie day above described did not 

 quite end in the fox getting to ground at Bangour, 

 and the sequel to the sport formed the subject 

 of a story which Colonel Gillon was fond of telling. 

 That evening a number of those who had taken 

 part in the chase dined at Wallhouse, and as the 

 wine passed round the table after dinner, conver- 

 sation naturally turned on hunting and the events 

 of the day. Suddenly the butler entered and 

 said, "He's here, sir." "Who's here?" "The 

 fox, sir, he's at the front door." In an instant 

 every man was on his legs and at the front door 

 also, where, in a sack, having been unearthed 

 for the second time, was the good fox which had 

 afforded so much sport. At a word from Colonel 

 Gillon he was released, and amid a regular chorus 

 of view holloas, crossed the lawn. Then in a 

 " silence deep as death," contrasting forcibly with 

 the previous uproar, the hero of the day was 

 watched as far as the eye could reach in the faint 

 light of a new February moon, stealing noiselessly 

 away over the soft dewy grass. 



Between his second and third seasons — or, to 

 be strictly accurate, on the 10th of February 1868 

 — Colonel Gillon resigned the mastership, and it 

 would seem that Mr Waldron Hill, who at this 



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