346 THE BEST OF THE FUN 



with a view of the Vale even so late as the first few days 

 of this hot, dry April is to me a matter of congratulation 

 and unmixed gratitude. Spring hunting in 1894 has 

 practically no place. Ireland has, I learn, closed her 

 books ; the New Forest is baked out ; and if the fox is 

 anywhere to be ridden after in comfort until May, it can 

 be only at the extreme and opposite poles of Dartmoor 

 and Tyneside. 



On the journey westward, at the beginning of the 

 present week, it was a relief indeed, after traversing the 

 arid plans of Salisbury, to find oneself steaming into the 

 cool oasis of the Vale of Blackmore. Monday's hunting 

 took place hardly in this favoured basin, but on, perhaps, 

 its roughest and most difficult edge. Thus I shall take 

 the liberty of passing this day very briefly by. 



Mr. Merthyr Guest, I should note, not only hunts his 

 country six days a week, advertising four and giving local 

 notice of the other two, but carries the whole burden of 

 expense upon his own shoulders. That so comparatively, 

 limited a country can at all times provide sufficient foxes 

 for the purpose is the strongest possible proof of the deep 

 and general appreciation of the Master, and of his generous 

 liberality. As a matter of fact, the Vale fairly swarms 

 with foxes, whether in the smaller coverts which closely 

 decorate the lower ground, or in the strong woodlands 

 which surmount so many of the hills. 



Monday, April 2, saw the dog pack at Clifton Wood, 

 near Yeovil Junction and on the extreme south-west of 

 the country. The river Yeo and the London and South- 

 Western Railway both keep guard of this covert and its 

 northern flank, but a brace of foxes at once dashed across 

 the double barrier. In spite of excessive heat and occa- 

 sional dust, hounds were able to run nicely to Cocker 

 Wood, which they reached in a quarter of an hour, the 

 pack at once carrying their line through. Afterwards they 

 hunted slowly towards Closworth, left Penn Wood on the 

 right, and, returning to Clifton Wood after about an hour 

 in all, marked their fox to ground in a drain between wood 

 and village. All this had been rough upland hunting, in a 

 district attributed to the Cattistock, but which certainly (as 



