FOX-HUNTING 137 



on December 26, 1881, when I record: 

 " Monday, Hounds at Paradise Farm. A 

 most inappropriate name for a most un- 

 fortunate day the country flooded with 

 foot people. The skyline black with them 

 a most horrible sight ! We had soon a 

 fox on foot, but, headed in every direction, 

 he fell a victim to the mob's thirst for blood. 

 A like horrible fate awaited the second fox 

 on Guisborough Moor, above Bethel Slack ; 

 the spectacle of the hundreds round the 

 corpse of the poor murdered brute, clamour- 

 ing for fox-skin, was heartrending. What 

 added to the mortification was the fact of 

 the day being an ideal one, soft, cloudy, 

 scenting. Some of the remarks I overheard 

 tended to relieve the dark melancholy of 

 the day. One delightful ruffian, with an 



