SHOEMAKERS AND COATMENDEKS ICS3 



quite as neatly and effectively adjusted as Mr. Scott's 

 admirable safety-apron. A somewhat similar accident 

 had befallen one of the hunt servants, but in his case the 

 mishap merely betrayed the secret of an exceedingly 

 dapper figure. If the stuffing had but been of the same 

 colour as the outer skin of the bird, the cut would have 

 been leis suggestive of the turkey poult — which I shall 

 now certainly send him at Christmas. 



Almost all these falls were, if I may say it without 

 offence, of the good, harmless, north-country fashion, the 

 sort of falls that make horses, and ought to make horse- 

 men. Here we dread nothing so much as going slow at 

 our fences (and 1 have heard it said, the more we funk the 

 faster we go). But you may rely upon it that, if you wish 

 to make a fall a fair certainty, you have only to choose 

 your opportunity and gallop at a blind ditch towards you, 

 with the sun full in your horse's eyes — the latter having 

 in all probability been carefully curtailed of their lashes 

 by a smart and conscientious groom. A great many of 

 these little casualties occurred while, with a first fox from 

 Shawell Wood, we journeyed the sHce of plough that 

 intervenes between that covert and Swinford village. 

 From my quiet and careful position I could see red balls 

 and black, of thrusting humanity, shot up in the air by 

 twos and threes at every fence, and by the time I arrived 

 there was no difficulty whatever in walking through in 

 safety. 



The best hunt of the day was that of the afternoon, 

 South Kilworth Covert the source. Hounds started on 

 excellent terms, but the same curious collision (with a 

 flock of geese) that confused their fox and drove him 

 from his point (probably North Kilworth) hindered them 

 for some moments on his track. Recovering from this 

 they followed him sharply, with a leftward swing, till the 

 already foiled coverts of Stanford and Swinford were 

 pierced and past. Then, across river and railway again, 

 and by the left to Yelvertoft to the Hemplow Hills — 

 an hour's pretty hunt, with a bold, good fox that knew 

 plenty of country. This paved the way to a sixteen 

 minutes' scurry that, if nicely set, had been a gem. 1 



