1 88 CHASING AND RACING 



bobby had got to the head of the terrified horses. 

 When we picked the unfortunate Jehu up he was 

 stone dead. At the back of his neck there was a 

 charred hole as if a red-hot poker had been thrust into 

 it. His nether garments were tattered and scorched, 

 the cushion of the driver's seat was ripped open, and 

 the course of the electric fluid could be traced by the 

 destruction of one of the spokes of the off fore wheel, 

 the iron tyre of which was torn from its holding. 

 What a titanic force is this which we dare to chain to 

 our uses ! 



To hark back to the marvellous memory possessed 

 by the equine race. It will be remembered that I had 

 a word to say about a favourite hunter of mine — 

 Melbury, to wit — whom I hunted with my M. and 

 H. V. Harriers when residing at Missenden Abbey, 

 Three years later ^ when master of the O.B.H., I had by 

 chance to pass that ancient landmark, having whipped 

 off some six miles distant. I was walking the hounds 

 quietly back to kennel, when, on reaching the Abbey, 

 Melbury suddenly turned in at the gates and trotted 

 up the drive. Out of curiosity I allowed him to " gang 

 his gait.'' Sure enough he never stopped until he was 

 in the stable yard. He had never been to Missenden 

 between times. 



A useful and handsome, but very unlucky, horse 

 that we had at Headbourne Worthy was Chevy Chase, 

 a chestnut by Ossian (winner of the St. Leger of 

 1883) — I Spy. I won only one race, a mile and a 



