Driving to Hounds 257 



the east side of the river toward Geneseo. On rushed the 

 Doctor, the pointer, with his fore feet still on the dash- 

 board, barking at every one we passed. Crossing the high- 

 way on to the Able farm, we saw three or four riders go to 

 grass. On went the huntsmen. On went the carriages, 

 strung out like a funeral procession for length, but all with 

 horses galloping madly. And on raced the Doctor, until he 

 headed the procession. I have been run away with several 

 times, but I never again travelled so fast in a buggy as I 

 did on this wild occasion. In jumping into the highway 

 crossing the Geneseo road, some one with his horse's nose 

 drawn down into his chest caught his mount's knees on 

 the top rail and turned a complete somersault ; and inciden- 

 tally I learned the most useful lesson to be taught in the 

 hunting-field. It was plain even to my inexperienced eyes 

 that the horse was thrown by its rider. 



On a little farther we assisted at an extraordinary per- 

 formance, and brought our race to an end. A pair of 

 farm-horses which were attached to a lumber-waggon 

 with an empty box became frightened at all the hue and 

 cry, and ran away toward Geneseo. They were flying 

 along the edge of the beaten track just ahead of us, when 

 suddenly, the right fore wheel striking a large stump on 

 the side of the road, up went the box free of the waggon, 

 described a somersault through the air, and landed on the 

 ground with the farmer under it. The horses never halted. 

 The Doctor and I, when we arrived at the overturned box, 

 could hear the farmer underneath yelling like an Indian. 

 We jumped out of our waggon, and on tipping up the box 

 out came the farmer on his hands and knees, white as a 



