A DART FROM WINWICK WARREN 79 



her, farmer-friend, wherein with proper pride you rode to 

 cheer Betsey-the-single-handed, her whom you had walked 

 — and you were put round at once to the huntsman your- 

 self ?) The jump into the road is as a leap over an 

 avalanche — for great masses of snow lie beyond and below. 

 There may be a wide gulf beneath — there is probably 

 nothing. But a horse quite as cautious and prudent as 

 yourself fiings himself into the roadway, far beyond the 

 white, mud-freckled drifts — and, possibly, in such good 

 company as that of Messrs. Roden, Gordon-Cunard, and 

 H. Mills. Lord Spencer is on the spot to insist upon 

 room, for the pack now feathering upon the soiled surface 

 of the plough beyond. Downward then they push again, 

 towards the Yelvertoft valley : and, bending still leftward, 

 hunt brightly past Winwick village, till they turn upward 

 over the spot where Goodall brought his fox to hand in 

 the fog gallop of some four years ago. Prompted by the 

 reminiscence, one of the most active participators, and 

 certainly the heaviest ^ in that fog-episode, now proceeds 

 at once to set his stamp upon the exact locality. This he 

 does by imprinting deep in the red soil the outline of him- 

 self and his bay mare — leaving on the hillside a landmark 

 similar in shape, and almost identical in scale, with that 

 giving a name to the Vale of White Horse. 



After this hounds work onward almost to Ravensthorpe, 

 and into the district beyond West Haddon. But the farther 

 they go, the more ground does their fox seem to have 

 gained upon them. And he won the day, which thus 

 terminated about four o'clock. The last event we may 

 well term a pretty hunt of nearly an hour — of which the 

 first twenty-five minutes or so were enjoyable exceedingly. 

 To no one, I would venture to wager, did they commend 

 themselves more heartily and acceptably than to the light- 

 weight little lady from Northumberland, piloted to point 

 of view by Mr. Darby — I mean, of course. Miss Fenwick, 

 who, with her father, has been hunting some few recent 

 days in Northamptonshire. 



1 Mr. P. A. Muntz. 



