300 THE MEYNELL HOUNDS. [189» 



Monday, March 20th, 1899, Sudbury Station. A very sharp frost overnight 

 very nearly put a stop to liunting to-day. However, the Master decided to try, 

 and gave the order to trot off to Foston. Hounds found in the Pudding Bag, 

 and, getting a good start, ran rather nicely across the Scropton lane and over the 

 beautiful meadows by the Dove up to the osier-bed on the main road near 

 Sudbury station, where a lady in a pony-cart headed the fox. But, unlike most 

 people in a similar position, she had seen him and told the Master where he had 

 gone. So with very little delay the huntsman had hounds on the line, and they 

 ran back to Foston. After a turn or two up and down the coverts in the Park, 

 the fox went away the same line as before, but crossed the Sudbury road this 

 time without intervention. After a very short excursion beyond it he recrossed 

 the main road near Archdeacon Freer's house, and made his way into Sudbury 

 Park. Hounds ran him quite nicely about halfway across the Park, but checked 

 by one of the small plantations, and never got on his Hue again. It is possible 

 that he had taken refuge in a tree close by, which foxes often use. After drawing 

 Sudbury Bottoms and the Coppice — where they had been felling timber — blank, 

 hounds found at Sapperton. Settling to the line, they ran across the lane which 

 leads to Church Broughton, and across the road from Foston to Boylestone, and 

 ran nicely up to the main road from Sudbury to Boylestone, which they crossed 

 just at the top of Boylestone Hill. Beyond the road they bore rather right- 

 handed, and ran slowly towards Cubley Mill. This is an awkward strip of country 

 to cross, and most of us were content to watch hounds hunting slowly down to 

 the brook. Up the opposing slope the pace improved, but they were soon 

 brought to their noses again, and treated us to a pretty bit of hound work as they 

 stuck perseveruigly over dry fallows and wind-bitten pastures to a short running 

 fox, which did his best to baffle them by turning at right angles, acute angles, 

 tangents, and every intricate figure known to the professors of geometry. 

 Nearly to Bentley Car they worked out the problem, and " a man we all swear 

 by, a friend of our own " [Mr. Caldecott], looked like solving a problem still more 

 obscure, when his good hunter slipped on taking oft" on the treacherous ground, 

 and went smash into a very strong fence, which luckily broke. So with inward 

 rejoicing at his escape the Hunt rode happily along, while hounds turned like 

 harriers with their fox, who went to see why the Eector of Cubley was not out 

 after him. Merrily they ran for a few' lields, and their cry sent the rooks 

 clamouring and protesting from the trees where they were busy building. Some 

 of us knew the way through the Picctor's garden, but others knew better still, and 

 sat in the road below waiting for hounds to come to them. " Where are they ? " 

 people are inquiring anxiously, for, though but a few seconds before " the barns, 

 the cots, and leafless elms return the joyous sounds," now all is silence, and not 

 a hound to be seen. Ah ! here they come, the trusted comrades of the chase, 

 questing warily, if haply they may hit his labyrinthian windings. What has 

 caused the check ? Was it the Eector's great, slashing foxhound puppy joining 

 unbidden in anticipated joys ? Wait a moment. Flapping nostril and waving 

 stern will in one moment find a vent in melodious sound? Mark those 

 leading hounds. Did you ever see such eagerness repressed ? But see, doubt is 

 giving way to certainty. An electric thrill is running through every nerve of 

 that old hound's body as she feathers on the scent and proclaims the fact in a 

 note of tremulous joy. It hardly requires the huntsman's half-unconscious 

 " forward " to bring up Daylight and Wonderful, Twinkle and Verity, and many 

 another " comrade brave and true," to follow old Goodness' lead, as with swelling 

 chorus they sink the hill, dash over the brook, shaking their sides on the 

 bank, and swarm up the steep bank of the Cubley-Longford lane, while 



