i5o FOX-HUNTING 



specimen of the Cleveland hunting farmer, 

 George Codling, senior, who will after this 

 lapse of time forgive me for naming him, 

 had now the best of it, and beat me to 

 Castleton Park, being clearly first up when 

 hounds pulled down their fox on the very 

 edge of the Esk River. I was there a 

 moment after Codling, and struggled with 

 him to reach the fox, now in deep water, in 

 the midst of the swimming pack, for these 

 were the days when men turned their horses 

 adrift, and almost fought for the honour of 

 the brush, which fell to him who took the 

 fox from the hounds. In our scuffle at the 

 water's edge, while we were using our hunt- 

 ing-crops as boat-hooks, I unintentionally 

 knocked Codling's hat into the river, think- 

 ing little of such a trivial accident at such a 



