1900] A HARD DAY FROM LONGFORD. 329 



Who it was that led the van to-day, let those say who were near enough to 

 see, but he had his work cut out as he, and those with him, galloped best pace all 

 along the brook side till they came to the old lane from Doveridge Woodhouse to 

 Somersal, where they shot across the Doveridge-Wardley road, and breasted the 

 steep ascent to Uphill Wood, catching hounds, who had checked, at the top. At 

 a much moderated pace these hunted their fox to the comer of Eaton Wood, back 

 again to Wardley Coppice, over the Somersal brook, by Wardley village, and so 

 to Marston Woodhouse, where they lost him. Sudbury Coppice and Vernon's 

 Oak were next drawn, and those who availed themselves of Mr. and Mrs. 

 Peacock's never-failing hospitality, got the best start when hounds went away 

 with their fox across the Oak Lane, pointing for Cubley. Unluckily he was 

 headed before gomg half a mile, and turned back for Marston. Meanwhile 

 another was halloaed between the Coppice and the Alder Moor. Bravo, Sudbury ! 

 The hunted one went on to Rigg's Lane, where he turned left-handed, through the 

 Marston end of the Oak Coppice, and, after twisting and dodging about, was lost 

 between Somersal House and Marston-IMontgomery, scent being indifferent. 



Monday, March 2Gth, Longford Village. The day furnished a good object 

 lesson in the geography of the Monday country, for it was fairly drawn from end 

 to end. The Car, of course, held a fox, who broke away across the Rodsley lane, 

 and hounds hunted him slowly up to the bridle-way to Shirley, whence he turned 

 back and was lost close to Reeve's Moor. This covert was drawn blank, and on 

 the way to Alkmonton bottoms there was a halloa, to which hounds were taken, 

 but it proved, to every one's amusement, to be nothing more than a woman 

 shouting to her husband to come to dinner. A mangy fox was found in Alk- 

 monton bottoms, and was promptly killed, owing to the first whipper-in's 

 exertions. Potter's Covert was blank, but an outlying fox — another mangy one — 

 jumped up on a ploughed field near Barton and shared the fate of his predecessor. 

 Hilton Gorse, where it was said there was already a litter of cubs, was blank, and 

 then came a snowstorm. The Foston coverts were all drawn blank — all those, at 

 least, which were tried — but a mangy fox was found and killed in Brocksford 

 Gorse. It was after six o'clock when hounds found in the Hare Park, a good fox 

 who led them straight to the Alder Moor, adjoining Sudbury Coppice. A lady 

 [Mrs. Walter Boden], who seldom turns away from any fence, no matter what, 

 got an ugly fall at a place with a wide ditch at the taking-ofF side, near Ley Hill, 

 and, report says, injured her back, while a gentleman [Mr. Caldeoott], for whom 

 no fence is too big, successfully cleared the dreaded Sudbury bottom. The fox 

 was lost by the Alder Moor at about half-past six, bringing a long day to an end. 

 One enthusiastic sportsman did not get home till nearly nine o'clock. 



Saturday, April 7th, when Colonel Chandos-Pole, by the courtesy of Mr. 

 Fort, brought his hounds to Quarndon, was no common day in the annals of fox- 

 hunting. For was it not the last day on which the Squire of Radburne, who 

 has shown unrivalled sport in Derbyshire and Dorsetshire for twenty years, was 

 to take the field as a Master of hounds? In both masterships good runs were as 

 plentifid as blackberries, while the woodland foxes of Staffordshire had as good 

 cause to rejoice over his retirement as had their brethren in the wild Cattistock 

 country. In other papers abler pens have had the privilege of recounting the 

 glorious runs of former times. It is our sad task to sing a requiem. Thus it was 

 with mixed feelings that many of us followed for the last time the killing pack, 

 descended for the most part from the Irish hounds purchased some years ago 

 while the Squire was Master of the Meyaell, and which accompanied him to the 

 Cattistock, to return in due course to Radburne. Gossamers hung on the bushes, 



