128 THE MEYNELL HOUNDS. [1885 



ChandoR-Pole, lifted high in the air near Homestall Wood, was tlie first intima- 

 tion that bold Reynard was a-foot. Charles Leedham quickly got his ladies on 

 the line, hut, strange to say, at first, scent was catchy, and it appeared that the 

 soft breezes of the south-west were not to be conducive to sport, so at a moderate 

 pace only we start (on what proved to be a long journey) for Lady Leys farm, 

 which leaving to our right, we ran at an improved pace for Lullington. Hounds 

 carried the line at a good pace for Clifton, and crossing the treacherous banks of 

 the River ^Mease, we find ourselves comfortably landed in the Atherstone country, 

 l)ut little do we dream that, ere the sun sets, we sliall have crossed right over 

 the Wednesday and well into the Monday country of that far-famed pack. But 

 we are leaving the line, though the bitches are not. They carry it on beautifully 

 to Chilcote, over Stretton Heath for No Man's Heath (where four counties join) ; 

 lieading through to the right, they point for Austrey, and we believe that the 

 point of this gallant fox was Newton Gorse, he having come almost field for field 

 the reverse line of that excellent gallop of the Atherstone after Mr. Oakeley's 

 ball a fortnight back. Be this as it may, he either changed his mind or was 

 headed, for he swings round to the left for Norton, and the big woods of Gopsall 

 appear close to us. Into Gopsall Wood he ran, and in those hundreds of acres 

 of covert we expect to see the finish of this gi'cat run. But no ! The bitches 

 race across the Park in magnificent form, picking the line up through a herd of 

 red deer, and into the Racecourse Covert. Here many riders, who had been 

 going well and boldly, cried, " Hold, enough ! " The field consequently dwindled 

 down to some score of sturdy followers, who watched the hounds sticking to 

 their fox, who had gone past Twycross and into the gardens, almost into the 

 front door of Mr. Oakeley's house at Clift". Here the hounds were quite close 

 to his brush, and the set face of the huntsman shows us how keen he is to draw 

 our fox's blood on this spot, sacred to the Atherstone. A last dying effort 

 enables this good fox to hold on his course past Temple Mill, by Harris bridge, 

 into Sibson Wolds. Here no doubt he transferred the pack to a brother, as 

 learning from a rustic that the fox was running fresh into Lady Byron's Covert, 

 the Master stopped the hounds, which in two hours had brought us thirteen 

 miles as the crow flies, and nearly eighteen as we came. At the finish we noted 

 two ladies who had gone gallantly throughout — Mrs. Harry Townshend and Mrs. 

 Holland — whilst of mankind, in addition to the huntsman, both whips (J. Tasker 

 and W. Scorey) were in their places. The Master of course was there, and also, 

 of those we knew, the Hon. AV. Bagot, IMessrs. G. and L. Hardy, W. F. Inge, 

 H. Bass, M.P., R. Fort, A. 0. Worthington, J. Bagnall, J. and W. Walker, W. C. 

 Salt, Charles Moore, Peter Smith, Holland, J. Gretton, Fellowes, Capt. H. L. 

 Townshend, and Col. Milligan. In matter of point to find a compeer we have to 

 go back to the gi-eat run of old Tom Leedham (the present huntsman's grand- 

 father), when he was bitten through his boot by a moribund fox which he had 

 run from Radburne to Ambergate, or, in more modern times, the fine gallop 

 from Radburne Rough to Biggin, in 1870, when a single hound, Ringlet, killed 

 the fox, and the late Tom Leedham's horse died under him. 



They had another good day on the 4th, and then there 

 was frost and snow practically for a month, though they 

 did squeeze a day or two in between. And then came a 

 first-rate run. People were rather chaffing Mr. Fort at the 

 meet about his grey horse, which looked like a bag of 



