A GREAT WEEK 227 



and Grubb's Copse — a panorama in life and colouring of 

 "A Good Thing in a Pewy Country" (you know the old 

 Aiken print). 



The Grafton had begun the morning with some twenty 

 and odd minutes of racing round the Fawsley domain, 

 proving that at least there was a scent upon the grass. 

 A rime frost, you may remember, had caught the 

 ground that morning ; while on Sunday, as you will 

 scarcely have forgotten, rain had deluged the country, till 

 now horses sank deeper into plough and into grass than 

 perhaps during any recent winter. Now I will briefly 

 sketch the line. Found in the handy little wood known 

 as Knightley's Wood ; and at about 12.30 left it to run to 

 Mantel's Heath, a similar wood adjoining. Thence nearly 

 to Fawsley Park, round Everdon village ; some frittering 

 about the Everdon Brook, and a short turn to Everdon 

 Stubbs and the brow leading to Stowe W^ood. From 

 Stowe Wood the run may be said to have really begun. 

 From here they started in hard earnest, southward, direct 

 to Pattishall House ; past it and its covert, over the grassy 

 hills to Eastcote village ; thence in a wide curl nearly to 

 Gayton village, right-handed still under Ascott Thorns to 

 Grubb's Copse — all hunting and quick running, an easy 

 country, at times very deep. Beyond Grubb's Copse a 

 long check. 



At this moment of writing appears at home my second 

 horseman, like Agag, walking delicately. I had not seen 

 him all day — nor my luncheon, an item we consider 

 gravely in these parts. In similar case I know were many 

 other expectant pursuers, possibly riding, till they could 

 ride no more, their " young one for a gentle airing." I 

 could not blame him. How could I ? though he be kept 

 for that special purpose. He tells me he had clung to the 

 inside turn. But he had made a rare day of it. He saw 

 them recover the line at Foxley, while I was standing in 

 excellent company beside my panting beast at Grubb's 

 Copse. W^ith them, and with men blessed with more 

 apropos squireens, he had seen hounds hunt on through 

 Maidford, back to Mantel's Heath, and Heaven knows 

 where, till finally they gave up the chase near Blakesley, 



