108 The Hunting Countries of England, 



hunting and lie must liave it — yet must subordinate 

 tis passion to a mainer object. So only a day can be 

 stolen bere and there — wbile stocks and shares^ briefs 

 and patients, demand all bis existence before tbe 

 world. To sucb a man a country recommends itself, 

 tbat will give bim bonest sport between breakfast and 

 dinner, and allow bim a steam covert back for bis 

 morning and evening ride. He may keep a couple of 

 borses on tbe spot ; but be bimself must snatcb an 

 early breakfast, finisb tbe bows of bis leathers in a 

 bansom, and witb a cigarette, tbe Times, and a beart 

 full of bope, work out tbe next bour not altogether 

 uncomfortably in a soft-cushioned railway carriage. 



Within easy morning^s rail of London is the Pucke- 

 ridge Hunt — with an old-established and excellent 

 pack, and a sporting, if not a brilliant country. Here 

 a man may see a great deal of genuine bunting, with- 

 out any great primary outlay in horseflesh, and with- 

 out having to encounter greater risk to life and limb 

 than is consistent with steady business habits and an 

 increasing family. The Puckeridge country is, 

 generally speaking, plough. A grass field may be 

 seen here and there, but has a foreign look amid the 

 many miles of tillage. Like most other arable, the 

 soil will carry a scent best when wet ; and when wet 

 it is, of course, less pleasant riding. But a fox 

 generally leaves sign enough to ensure bimself a hard 

 pressed journey ; and the Puckeridge are not behind 

 their neighbours in accounting for their game. A 

 horse that can move steadily on, through dirt and 

 difficulty, is the animal to ride here — one that will 

 trot and canter all day, that will squeeze through a 



