A SCENT IN PRACTICE AND IN THEORY 393 



by tlic way : juniped many horrid obstacles which the 

 others had avoided. Dechired all the best men of the 

 Hunt were with them. Had also two tales typical of 

 blessed innocence, such as is shared by a vast proportion 

 of our field in this well-gated elysium. "Thrice cursed 

 luck," murmured in blue despondency one whose better 

 and fairer half was onward in the van, as he swung a gate 

 to the next comer, all abeam. "Why?" inquired the 

 well-contented one. " Because we are not with hounds, 

 of course," retorted the wrathful Benedict. " Oh, aren't 

 we?" timidly inquired the other. "What are these?" 

 pointing to the nominal nine couple being brought on by 

 the whipper-in. 



But still more cruel to wounded feelings was the 

 comment of another traveller by the slow train (sex does 

 not transpire) to perhaps the keenest and hardest man of 

 the Hunt. She or he was not quite so well satisfied. 

 " There doesn't seem to be much scent to-day, does 

 there ? " pointing to the struggling couples being coaxed 

 and whipcorded on their stern chase. Keen-and-Hard 

 nearly choked. 



Speaking of sterns (it must have been among the rear- 

 guard, for the van tell me they never jumped), somebody 

 landed on one of the beautiful Grafton bitches, and at one 

 fell tread nicked off six inches of her wavy stern. 



A clinking hound-run this ; and excellent and easy to 

 see. Let me think, have I any names with which to 

 decorate my plain tale ? Yes, those of Mrs. Oliver, Mrs. 

 Gould, and Mrs. Byass, with one quite essential to the tale 

 of all recent Grafton sport, that of the veteran Mr. Roper. 



By the way, if any proof were needed of the destructive 

 power attached to the footfall of horses across the line of 

 a fox, a striking instance, I remember, was to be observed 

 on a Wednesday recently with the Pytchley. They had 

 run their fox for forty-five minutes, and had him almost 

 in hand by Welford Station — hounds were within a 

 hundred yards or so of his brush. At this moment he 

 was driven back by people in the road, and forced uphill 

 across the wide grazing-ground over which a hundred of 

 us had just cantered. Hounds turned with him, throwing 



