68 NIMROD'S HUNTING TOUR 



On the following Wednesday Colonel Wyndham's hounds met at 

 Torrington Wood, where we found our fox the first day I was out, 

 but on this day we drew it blank. The weather, indeed, was 

 dreadful — nothing but thunder and lightning being wanting to 

 complete the war of elements. A shower of snow overtaking us in 

 our draw, just as we had got upon the hills, sent us home with 

 nothing but a good appetite for dinner. Friday was Washington 

 Common, between Steyning and Petworth, about seventeen miles 

 from Brighton, in a country capable of being made a tolerable hunt- 

 ing country ; but, like all those which have not been regularly 

 hunted, ^/le^ntZ was uncertain, and we had the pleasure of another 

 blank, though we drew several miles down the Wealds of Sussex. 



There is a country in Boeotia, which they call Hyelus, supposed to 

 be the dirtiest in the world. This I have never seen ; but I was 

 bred up in a dirty one, and more than once, when a boy, was nearly 

 smothered on my pony, in a lane called "the Devil's Gallery." I 

 thought I had seen some dirt about the Clayton Woods in Oxford- 

 shire, and the Grafton Woods in Worcestershire, but when I got 

 into the lanes of the Wealds of Sussex and some part of Surrey, I 

 found it was all to come. However, it is the best extreme of the 

 two, and of two evils we must always choose the least. The 

 country w^e drew over on this day would, no doubt, have held a 

 scent, and by no means an impracticable one to cross — bearing in 

 mind that what will stop horses will also generally stop hounds. 



On the following day (Saturday) we met at the Burrell Arms, 

 between Horsham and Worthing, close to West Grinstead Park, the 

 seat of Mr. Burrell, Member for the county, and also about eighteen 

 miles from Brighton. We drew some very fine gorse in the 

 plantations in the park, but no fox was at home. We continued 

 drawing over a good deal of country — the prospect beginning to lour 

 — when we had a beautiful find in a beautiful patch of gorse. Per- 

 ceiving they were determined to have him out or taste him, he went 

 gallantly away across a good rasping brook in the meadows below, 

 and I thought we were in for a clipper. I presently found, however, 

 that it would not do ; for as soon as the hounds got upon the plough, 

 their heads were up, and nothing but feeling for it (which they did 

 to perfection) could enable them to get on at all. Here the country 



