THE PROVINCES. 257 



pretty often in our time. On the Gloucestershire side is the 

 most grass land ; a nice country this, the Slaughter Vale, ovei 

 which a fox will probably take you from Bruern Abbey or 

 Gawcombe, being about the cream of it all. Round Heythrop, 

 where the master lives, Chapel House and Pomfret Castle, 

 there is also some pretty riding. Bradwell Grove is the great 

 meet for the stone walls, and here the hounds come regularly 

 on the first Wednesday of each month to draw Jolley's Gorse. 

 There were few hunting undergraduates in the old days who 

 had not hanging on their walls the famous print recording the 

 humours of a 'Gallop with Jem Hills from Bradwell Grove.' 

 Tar Wood is down in the southern corner, a common property 

 with the Old Berkshire. It is a deep heavy wood, and the 

 country round about is not very engaging. Man, according to 

 the poet, ' gets no second day,' and we do not know that Tar 

 Wood has ever renewed its ancient fame; The great run, 

 immortalised by Egerton Warburton in one of the best of his 

 hunting ballads, took place on December 24, 1845. 



He waited not, he was not found, 

 No warning note from eager hound, 

 But echo of the distant horn, 

 From outskirts of the cover borne, 

 Where Jack the whip in ambush lay, 

 Proclaim'd that he was gone away. 



And go away he did. The peculiar feature of this run, according 

 to the hero of the day, Mr. Whippy, 'was the stoutness and 

 intrepidity of the fox. With the exception of just touching 

 one corner of Bay's Wood at Cokethorpe, he never once sought 

 shelter in a cover of any description. The distance from point 

 to point is from fifteen to sixteen miles, and I am sure the 

 distance run over must have been at least twenty miles. Time, 

 one hcur and forty-two minutes.' Well may the poet sing : 



When younger men of lighter weight 

 Some tale of future sport relate, 

 Let Whippy show the brush he won, 

 And tell them of the Tar Wood run. 



