196 FOX-HOUND, FOREST, AND PRAIRIE. 



fox. Ashby Spinnies. Ploughman said he had gone into a road 

 drain. Always talk so, those fellows. Don't raise a noise I 

 Let's make it safe down wind. Do stand still a minute, plea-se 

 gentlemen ! Give the hounds a chance ! Huic, little bitches I 

 Fut, fut, fut ! Puzzled it out beautiful to back of Barby. Big 

 fences gave 'em a chance : and a check set folks talking in the 

 road till hounds slipped nearly all the lot, and sprung round 

 the grass at back of village like wildfire. Back to Ashby 

 Ledgers, but didn't go in. Lor, how they blazed after him then 

 till we set him up in a spinney ! And, blessed if they didn't 

 holloa away a fresh one ! They might ha' known better. Nipped 

 back and killed him, though. Forty-five minutes. Braunston 

 Cleeves afternoon. Two in front up to Bragboro'. So they 

 say : but sometimes it's one fox, sometimes it's three. Every- 

 body likes to see a fox. (Wish they weren't always so certain 

 about his being fresh one or run one. Think I must hold a 

 class at Brixworth during summer months, and get one of those 

 painting chaps to draw the curl of a tired fox's back on a black- 

 board. Cleans nothing to do with it. A few gorse bushes will 

 brighten up any grass-run fox in five minutes, fit for stuffing I 

 But this wasn't just now.) A good killing scent. Skirted 

 Ashby Village. Chap in woodyard wanted to break our necks. 

 Put those rails up himself, no doubt. Road right and left 

 brought 'em all upon hounds quite as quick, too. But at 

 Wei ton the field held to the road, while hounds hugged the 

 dairy meadows, and a few of our old customers let off after 

 them. Crossed the road through the thick of the horses. 

 Little bitches wouldn't be denied. Down to the bit of a brook.. 

 Ever so many stirred up the mud. Can't think why the gentle- 

 men want to tumble about so ! We Hunt servants can't afford 

 to do it. Some that I know would catch it if they did. At 

 Thrupp's Spinney the rascal lay down among two or three 

 fresh foxes. Drove him out and round. Killed in hedgerow. 

 Just an hour. Dashed if they didn't deserve him. 'Been two 

 straight foxes, 'been a rare day's sport. Time enough yet though." 

 On Monday, December 13, the Grafton met with an equally 



