H Clinl?ino IRun 275 



Mr. Winthrop. We jumped one fence, then went 

 straight to a farmyard, at the bottom of which was a 

 four-barred gateway with poles, which were made to 

 take down with a pin and chain. I thought my pilot 

 was going to be a good friend and loose the top one 

 or two ; but not so. He steadied his big grey horse, 

 the same as they do in that country at a wall, and he 

 reared over it — I cannot say jumped it. I was next, 

 and I thought to myself, " Well, here I am, all the 

 way from Leicestershire — I must have a go." So I 

 asked my little flea-bitten grey, called " O.C.," the 

 question, which he answered gallantly, and, much to 

 Mr. Winthrop's surprise, he jumped the gateway 

 beautifully. Poor old Tom Clark, the huntsman, was 

 just behind me, and I heard him talking very loudly 

 to someone, saying he had crossed him, and his 

 old horse would not have it now. Jack West, who 

 was whip at the time, came up, and Clarke told him 

 to take the rails down. By this time the hounds, 

 with Mr. Winthrop and myself, had got half a mile 

 ahead. He evidently knew who I was, and, being 

 a stranger, was rather jealous. I took a line of my 

 own, and, as the hounds were running as if tied to 

 their fox, there was no time to look about. Pre- 

 sently I saw my friend asking his horse a question 

 over a big field, and as ' O.C was going well within 



