COL. ANSTRUTHER THOMSON 257 



combe Wood and jogged back to Stamfordham. 

 Tea and changed and drove home ; got in at 

 nearly eight o'clock. Hounds were not quite ac- 

 customed to their huntsman, J. Cookson, the master, 

 having hunted them himself formerly. Awfully hot 

 riding ; ground very dry ; a big field. 



Wednesday, i8th February. The Braes o' 

 Derwent. Siddle Dickson, huntsman ; sixteen 

 couple thoughtful-looking hounds with long ears 

 sitting in a semicircle watching him. The whipper- 

 in a grubby-looking youth in strange attire an old 

 red coat, a cap stuck on to the back of his neck with 

 its peak in the air, and a bright blue satin necktie 

 and "gills," a pair dogskin gloves with broad black 

 embroidery on the backs, and a short whip which 

 cracked like a pistol. They went into acres of 

 woods on the banks of the river (the Tyne). Found 

 directly, and they all barked at once, and ran like 

 fun, and George Fenwick and I and a chap with 

 fourteen buttons at his knees (an innkeeper) got 

 away with four couple of hounds. The body of the 

 hounds was a long time in coming, and when they 

 came the huntsman accounted for his delay by 

 saying " his horse had got ditched," and he had to 

 pull him out, and he was very lame in consequence. 

 They then drew a tremendous wood, where they 

 found at once. Dickson view-holloaed as long as 

 they would run. He has a grand voice. We 

 went home early. Rode the same big chestnut 

 horse of George Fenwick's I rode last year. Very 



few people out ; all sportsmen ; not a dressy field. 

 VOL. n. 17 



