THE HUNTSMAN'S MONTH 221 



followed by an extraordinarily long and straight run, 

 from Knightley Wood into Warwickshire. To-day Lord 

 Spencer, snatching his infrequent holiday from official 

 work, had intended to draw the same neutral coverts, 

 but was induced to alter his programme, and give us 

 Braunston Gorse, the choicest standpoint upon Pytchley 

 ground. We found a Shuckburgh fox, too ; and after 

 him rode across that lovely panorama of green country, 

 of which it has been my privilege so often to rave. The 

 slower the journey, the shorter the comment. Had the 

 little trip — to nearest points, the Dover and Calais, as 

 as it were, of Northamptonshire and Warwickshire — 

 been done in fifteen minutes, I might have inflicted a 

 volume upon you, and perhaps have supplemented it with 

 another had we gone on to forty-five and a kill. We did 

 it in twenty, with a catchy scent — two hundred people 

 and " all on." You will understand, then, this was a 

 pleasant little jaunt over beautiful country. But it was 

 not one of Braunston's best. And from Braunston we 

 have learned to look for such great things that we could 

 not but appraise the present product as being scarcely up 

 to sample. Besides, had we not to-day attained, all of us, 

 the right side of the brook ? Our fox, in most exemplary 

 fashion, took us across by means of the old canal dam. 

 Arrived at Shuckburgh, he went to ground beneath the 

 road. 



The season has life enough left to allow of our seeing 

 that beautiful thicket of privet and thorn drawn once or 

 twice yet, before the curtain shall drop to hide it and its 

 surroundings for the summer. I am interrupted, and 

 reminded that I am filling in my diary when I ought not 

 to be thus at work. The bleating of lambs comes in 

 through the open window, and the cawing of rooks "pierces 

 the fearful hollow of mine ear." Could there be ruder, 

 more untimely break ? W^e are only in February ! And 

 the two finest runs it has been my luck to see with the 

 Pytchley were in March. 



Wednesday, February 22, as we fully expected, from a 

 barometer clinging to Stormy and a forecast laden with 

 threats, was as ill-conditioned a day as ever put love of fox- 



