112 HUNTING TOURS. 



time has dealt indulgently. Mr. James 

 Walker's good-tempered countenance pro- 

 claimed that he was not very much encum- 

 bered with care, and his increased weight 

 approaches nearly to that of his late respected 

 brother, whose sons now supply his place at 

 Compton. Mr. Handy looked none the worse 

 for the celebrity he has gained for his sheep ; 

 and Mr. Powell, muffled up in a great coat 

 and comforter (apparently composed of about 

 half the fleece of a cotswold), inculcated the 

 idea that he had commenced wasting to ride 

 in the Grand National, which is to come off at 

 Cheltenham. Of strangers there were many, 

 so many that it would be impossible to name 

 a tithe of them ; I must, therefore, with every 

 due apology to those whom I have omitted, 

 confine myself to the names of Mr. Owen and 

 Captain Gurney, as distinguished performers 

 with hounds. 



The morning was foggy, but it cleared at 

 intervals, and eventually became fine ; wind 

 due west. At twenty minutes before twelve 

 o'clock the hounds found in Cleevely, a covert 

 belonging to Mr. George Fletcher, where, as 

 there was not much lying, the fox had no 

 alternative but to break at once, which he 



