THE PYTCHLEY. ";:> 



large fields and keen fields have been the order of each day. 

 A big field is no drawback if only hounds run : but a big field 

 is its own worst enemy when hounds potter or a huntsman 

 dawdles. 



Being but human, and frail at that, I, too, must do as others ; 

 must go with the swim, and hunt daily happy in good sport 

 and good company. In making the most of one duty, I plead 

 guilty in some degree to neglecting another. I have stuck to 

 the saddle and foregone the pen in other words, have absorbed 

 my history for my own amusement. There have been events 

 every day events, did I say ? excellent sport, a run five days 

 out of the six as you will see pencilled below. And I crave 

 pardon for such hasty pencillings mere whiffs from the 

 evening cigar. 



THE. PYTCHLEY, 



On Friday, Feb. 13, meeting at Long Buckby, had all their 

 sport from Sanders' Gorse. As if in reparation for temporary 

 inappreciation on their part during the autumn, foxes had 

 clustered there in ample number : and the day was signalised 

 by yet another capital gallop a new line, and for the most 

 part a very choice one. A fox that will face his field boldly is 

 generally stout of frame and purpose : and it augured well for 

 a run when Reynard flourished his white tag so fearlessly 

 across a first thirty-acre pasture, careless of how many pairs 

 of eyes might be watching him. Nor were these a few, 

 you may be sure though the Atherstone, the Grafton, and 

 Mr. Fernie were all in the field the same day. I will presume 

 you know the country you will save me after-dinner labour if 

 I may. The Rugby and Northampton railway runs the valley, 

 at a distance of a mile or so from the gorse. Al thorp Park 

 and its adjacent coverts are just beyond the line. Our fox 

 went as far as the railway ; but whether abashed by the plate 

 layers, or acting upon some course of reasoning known only to 

 himself, he did not cross it, but chose his direction along the 



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