274 THE MEYNELL HOUNDS. [1898 



friendly hail gave the office to ]\Iajor and Mrs. Haiiwell, also bound for home, 

 and for thirtj' blissful minutes those two had it all to themselves over a country 

 good enough for Nimrod himself. By Woodlands Chapel, by Smallwood Manor, 

 left-handed towards the Red Cow, hounds drove their fox ; right-handed again 

 they brought him, with Woodford and Marchington on tlieir left. Here the 

 Major viewed him, sorely distressed, but one field in front of them. Had hounds 

 caught sight of him he must have died. But the pursuers are brought to their 

 noses, while the friendly woods are not so far off, and their fox is travelling on. 

 Slowly, no doubt, but still surely, and the covert saves him. To let hounds run 

 on now with a certainty of changing would be madness, and this happy pair, 

 thrice blessed of Diana, managed to stop them as they crossed Marchington 

 Chfif and brought them home. It was a rare piece of luck for them for their last 

 day with us, which no one will grudge them. We only wish we had been with 

 them — that is all. 



Major Hanwell afterwards died a soldier's death iu the 

 South African war. 



Monday, December 26th, 1898, at Marston-Montgomery, saw a large field 

 assembled. The morning was ushered in with a boisterous wind and a falling 

 glass, which, if such things go for anything, boded ill for sport. Marston Park 

 was drawn blank, but Sedsall Bough held a brace, one of which went away 

 towards Marston over a bit of country difficult to cross on account of wire 

 and natural obstructions of an awkward nature. So only a score or so, amongst 

 whom was the sporting landlord of the Crown at Marston, on a likely-looking 

 three-year-old, were really with them when they crossed the road which leads to 

 Wardley, between Mr. Clamp's and Mr. Smith's farms. Thence hounds ran 

 rather nicely a little ring of ten minutes or so out towards Wardley, and swung 

 left-handed across the Somersal brook and the road from Wardley to Marston. 

 Recrossing the road and the brook, he tried the earth, but finding it closed 

 against him, continued his course, leaving Marston village on his right, and got 

 to ground in the pit-hole on Mr. Smith's farm close to where he first crossed the 

 road on his outward journey. No doubt he meant getting in here if fortune had 

 favoured him, at the outset, but there was a party ferreting there. By the time 

 he got back they had moved away to see what they could of the hunt, and the 

 fox took advantage of their absence to effect an entrance. Hounds found a fox 

 in Eaton Wood, who ran the usual ring of the Doveridge coverts, by Birch Wood 

 to Wardley Coppice, over a little bit of country that takes some doing, and those 

 who were with hounds meant doing it too, for they were jumping timber as if 

 they preferred it to anything else. And they were not far out in their choice, for 

 it usually is the best place if your heart and your horse be but good enough. 

 One sportsman, though, who can lay claim to both the foregoing qualities, will 

 probably not agree with this, for he got a nasty fall over a stiff' rail with a ditch 

 on the taking-ofF side, which some people would not have at any price, and got a 

 shaking. Meanwhile hounds ran into Wardley Coppice, and, after hanging there 

 for some time, eventually got away on bad terms with their fox, and dragged 

 after him to a little beyond Marston Park, where he ran them out of scent. 

 They then drew Hare Park blank, but found a good straight-necked fox in 

 ^Ir. Jervis Smith's gorse. 



" That man we all honour, wbate'er be his rank, 

 Whose heart heaves a sigh when his gorse is drawn blank." 



