The Hertfordshire, 361 



their blood lias been for many years maintained. Tbe 

 Belvoir and tbe Fitzwilliam had mucli to do with 

 their original stock : and now they have turned to 

 their neighbours, the Oakley, for a fresh strain. The 

 present management is that of a Committee — an 

 alternative method generally forced on a Country by 

 want of a Master, and seldom to be resorted to except 

 under such pressure. However, there is no reason to 

 believe that in this case it works otherwise than well. 

 The committee, no doubt, find that various strings 

 that have for so many years been pulled by their 

 veteran huntsman move well enough in his hands ; 

 and things go on evenly enough. *^^ Bob Ward" 

 (originally christened Charles, by the way) is the in- 

 stitution of the Hertfordshire Hunt. Like Carter 

 and Treadwell, his natural instinct has been so 

 developed by long practice that he can almost kill a 

 fox by himself. Most of our readers must have seen 

 his giant frame pourtrayed and exhibited a few years 

 ago as a presentation picture from the hunt ; while in 

 the mind of every Hertfordshire man his colossal 

 figure exists almost in the light of an impersonation 

 of the chase. 



The situation of the Hertfordshire may be taken 

 roughly as stretching from London to Bedford. On 

 leaving London you first get on huntable ground near 

 Potter^s Bar (on the Great Northern Line) ; and from 

 thence northward, for nearly thirty miles, the duty of 

 harassing the foxes amid arable and woodland 

 devolves upon the Hertfordshire pack. For, from 

 end to end, there is scarcely a blade of grass grown 

 in Hertfordshire Country proper ; and the plough is 



