140 THE MERRY GEE-GEE 



my place to go and have a day with 

 the Brocklesby, and he remarked, ** This 

 is my 10 1 St day out this season, and I 

 haven't had a fall yet." Shortly after 

 this he broke his thigh very badly. Good 

 horsemen don't get many falls, but have 

 to take their whack as the fickle goddess 

 dictates. 



Mr. Shrubb — another master, who now 

 hunts a pack down South — was a good- 

 hearted sort of man, and his only crime 

 was that he was born south of the 

 Thames, which — ridiculous as it may 

 seem — is unpardonable in the eyes of 

 some north-countrymen. He had a 

 ringing voice, very well calculated, like 

 John Peel's, either to "awaken the dead, 

 or the fox from his lair in the morning." 



Mr. Wemyss, who hunted our country 

 twice, and was quite young when he 

 came the first time, was just the most 



