1900] A CLINKING GALLOP FROM REEVE'S MOOR. 325 



ran one into the Car, whence they went away at the north end and ran quite fast 

 parallel with the lane which leads past Cubley Car into the Marston-Montgomery- 

 Snelston road. Before they reached this, however, the fox was headed and 

 turned sharp left-handed, pointing for Marston-Montgomery. Here Mr. Charles 

 Garnett, well known between the flags, got a very ugly fall over some high, strong 

 timber, into the squelchy lane from Marston to Snelston, and lay where he fell 

 for some time before he was able to get on a very quiet horse and start home to 

 have his injuries attended to. Hounds, meanwhile bearing still more left-handed, , 

 completed their circle back to the gorse in about ten minutes from the find. 

 There the thickness of the gorse saved him, and he had to be given up. Hounds 

 did not find again. 



Monday, February 27th, at Brailsford Bridge, was the sort of day which was 

 fit for nothing but fox-hunting. What else would induce any one to stay out 

 of doors all day with any prospect of pleasure ? 



"The hunter knows no sorrow here, 

 The cup of life to biin, 

 A bumper bright of fresh delight, 

 Fill'd sparkling to the brim." 



And so it proved on Monday. In spite of torrents of rain, in spite of deep ground 

 and sobbing, labouring steeds, every one came home jubilant, for had not the 

 Meynell hounds had a capital run and killed their fox handsomely at the end 

 thereof? So would they far oftener than they do if the ground always rode as deep 

 as it did that day. A country which is favourable for horses is unfavourable for 

 hounds, said a great authority. " The worst of this country is," poor Charles 

 used to say, "that it rides too sound; they are always on their backs." It 

 will not require much ingenuity to substitute the nouns for the pronouns. What 

 boots it to tell how hounds caught a mangy fox at Ednaston ; how they drew 

 desert places at Bradley to find them deserted indeed ; how for a wonder the 

 Shirley coverts dishonoured the Master's draft; and how many thought longingly 

 of their firesides as hounds went off to draw Reeve's ^loor. But all such regrets 

 were cast to the winds by the welcome note of opening hound. " Now where 

 are all your sorrows, and your cares, ye gloomy souls ? or where your pains and 

 aches, ye complaining ones ? " One halloa has dispelled them all. Ay, there, 

 it is. Wait a moment, though ; the fox has turned back into covert. Hark • 

 he is away again. No; his heart |has failed him. Tally-ho! Huic away, 

 awa-a-y, awa-a-ay ! Ah, now he is gone ; you may gallop your best. Just one 

 hover, and the little bitches have hit the line ; there is a sort of electric quiver 

 through every nerve of the leading hounds' bodies as the maddening scent strikes 

 their questing nostrils, and, dropping their sterns straight as pipe -stems, they fly 

 to the front with a whimper of delight, while their comrades score to cry 

 straining every muscle to overtake them. Who cares a fig for the rain now? 



" Chime, ye dappled darlings, 

 Down the roaring blast ; 

 You shall see a fox die 

 Ere an hour be past." 



Chime they do, too, as they dash over the Hollington road, and sweep on for where 

 the plantations of Culland show dark against the stormy sky. Horses are labouring 

 and struggling along in their wake. The Master's office, as he gallops on, as near 

 hounds as any one, is a sinecure. " My friends, I give you leave to ride and catch 

 them if you can," may find an echo in his heart, as he watches the pack turning 

 and twisting with their fox, never giving him a moment's respite. What a 



