1898] JIM SMITH. 173 



let me tell of the doings from Hawerby Cross-roads on 

 April 2nd. A brace of foxes were quickly away from 

 Stock Furlong, hounds dashing hurriedly away wdth one 

 to Beesby Wood, where they got hold of him, just to put 

 them in heart for what was to follow. Five minutes' 

 silence in Grainsby Healing and then a twang-twang 

 from the deputy -master's horn set our minds at rest, and 

 caused the cramming on of hats and the tossing away of 

 cigars. Two minutes later hounds had settled down to 

 their fox and were streaming away towards Grainsby 

 Park, then turning to go straight through Fenby AVood, 

 and right-handed abreast of Ashby Cottagers' Plats and 

 just short of the road. We then ran parallel to the Barton 

 street to below the Eavendale coverts, where a momentary 

 check occurred, a cur-dog having coursed our fox into the 

 low country. But Smith soon set hounds right, and at 

 somewhat reduced speed — for w^e had come fast to the 

 first check — they ran, with Ashby-cum-Fenby on the left, 

 increasing their pace on the grass after crossing the brook, 

 and placing Brigsley on the left as they pressed on to 

 Waltham Mill. Skirting Mr. Charles Nainby's little 

 covert and the Becklands, we then went swinging down 

 the Barnoldby slopes to the brook, where " the scribe " 

 took a toss, owing to poached banks, and heaped blessings 

 on Whippy 's patent saddle-bar. Mr. J. Maunsell Richard- 

 son, Mr. and IVIrs. H. M. Wilson, Mr. G. P. Tyrwhitt-Drake, 

 Miss Enid Wilson (Lady Chesterfield), and Messrs. Cecil 

 Stephen, H. Whitworth, J. Tonge, G. Houlton, Langly 

 and Sands, together with our own huntsman, and Frank 

 Bartlett from Lord Fitzwilliam's, were all " going great 

 guns " up to this point. Pounding on in the rear, I 

 followed hounds over the Barton street to HatclifFe Top, 

 found the fox had skirted the Pavendale Plantations, and 

 had then turned down the slopes to Ashby Cottagers' 

 Plats. At Eavendale I met a female in distress, and a 

 tearful voice exclaimed, " Oh, Mr. Nimrod, I broke my 

 stirrup-leather and missed the run ! " which was hard lines 

 on a lady who generally sees most of our good things. 



