290 THE MEYNELL HOUNDS. [189& 



hounds moving off to draw the Spath, which, liowever, for a wonder, did not 

 hold a fox. Boden's Thorns sustained its reputation, and held a brace, one of 

 which was soon away over the Thurvaston lane as if he meant going for Long- 

 ford. Take it all round, let a fox go where he will he cannot go wrong so far 

 as tlie country is concerned hereabouts, but in front of us now danger loomed, and 

 red boards afforded bits of positive colour to the landscape, which, however 

 pleasing to the artistic sense, mar its beauty sadly in the eyes of a sportsman. 

 Luckily our fox, while thinking of his own safety, kept us and our horses out of 

 danger by turning left-handed with a view to trying an earth on Mr. Radford's 

 farm, and so took us out of the way of a possible mangling in the Avire. Thus 

 the hunt went on its way rejoicing, over a capital line of country, for twenty 

 minutes all told, and our fox effected his object and got to ground. Back we 

 went to Boden's Thorns, nothing doubting, and faith was rewarded, for a fox, and 

 . a good one to boot, was awaiting us, who took us the same line as the first for a 

 bit till he swung right-handed over the Long Lane and over the brook. The 

 latter favoured hounds by checking the onward rush of the pursuing squadron^ 

 and, with plenty of room (which holds the same place in fox-hunting as charity 

 does amongst the virtues), they hunted nicely on nearly to Reeve's Moor. Here 

 our fox turned up-wind for Culland, and, though the breeze was but light, hounds 

 naturally quickened their pace, and ran merrily just to the right of Culland, across- 

 Brailsford Park, and then parallel with the Derby- Ashbourne road to within a 

 few fields of Langley village. Here he turned right-handed, and it looked pretty 

 even betting on his going either to Parson's Gorse or Radburne Rough, and an}^ 

 odds on its being either one or other of them. One fox the Master did view going 

 Eadburne way, but hounds were busy on the line of another, which they ran fast 

 enough for most people's horses, leaving Nunsfields on their right. Crossing the- 

 lane from Sutton to Thurvaston, they pointed for Longford, but their fox was 

 headed and turned short back to Boden's Thorns, where horses, who had been 

 galloping for the best part of an hour and a half, were glad to stand still. Cast 

 your eye over the field, and heaving flanks, and red stains, where stubborn stake 

 and thorn has struck home, dirty coats and flushed faces tell their own tale. One 

 of our boldest spirits has been down and received a nasty kick in the face, but 

 otherwise every one seems to have turned up all right. Probably most of us were, 

 in our secret hearts, not sorry when a fresh fox was allowed to go away un- 

 molested, unless, indeed, there is still any one left who is suffering from a plethora 

 of horse-flesh. By degrees the cry of hounds in covert died fitfully away, tfll at 

 last not even one doubtful note disturbed the silence of the gorse, not even the 

 tenderest-nosed hound could own the scent, and a good fox was left to run 

 another day, while the prolonged notes of the huntsman's horn blowing hounds 

 out of covert ended a good, old-fashioned Thursday. 



Saturday, New Inn. A good many strangers out, and a bitterly cold day. 

 The hounds foimd a brace of foxes in Rocket Oak, and, after ringing round 

 Rangemore and Dunstall, lost their fox. After drawing everything else blank, 

 including that capital covert, Mosley's Gorse, a fox went away gallantly from 

 Kingstanding, and ran exactly the same line as the last time we were here. With 

 a capital scent they ran well past the Hanbury Wood end corner of Parson's 

 Brake, through the Park at New Lodge, down to Fox Holes, where they checked, 

 the fox having been turned from his point — the gorse on the top of the hill — by 

 a gentleman in black. After casting through the lower side of the Greaves, the 

 huntsman made a clever cast right beyond the gorse on the top of the hill, and 

 hit off the line of his fox into the dimble below the Vicarage. From here they 

 hunted nicely across Mr. Bullock's farm, nearly to his house, where some sheep 



