4IO THE BEST OF THE FUN 



almost altogether his Jiounds, killed a second fox still more 

 handsomely, after forty or forty-five minutes from Brock 

 Hall. A quick, good fox discovered himself on the canal 

 bank, as you enter Brock Hall Park. Immediately, and 

 while all or most of us (there was a big field by this 

 time) were irremediably mixed up in the attempt to dis- 

 entangle ourselves from the park, fox and hounds had 

 crossed the Weedon turnpike, and to my view there was 

 a scramble to Dodford Holt, two miles away. The 

 scramble continued — as gates were small, and jumping 

 was, under circumstances, country, and inclination, almost 

 impossible — across the railway to Newnham. Between 

 that village and Daventry the ground rises and dips with 

 a rugged severity that under to - day's conditions was 

 worthy of the Pamirs. And over this did hounds now 

 settle to run for a vigorous and final quarter of an hour, 

 winding up their fox handsomely as he was on the thres- 

 hold of Badby Park. I know many pleasanter sensations, 

 by the way, than that afforded by a blown horse chancing 

 his way through a straggling bullfinch to land on a six- 

 feet lower level, and then to go off at the best speed left 

 him down a steep slope of ice-bound turf, with another 

 blind fence awaiting him at the bottom. You have just 

 as much voice in the matter during these long moments 

 as you would have in a balloon. Common prudence, 

 too, denies you the luxury of revenge when the next 

 ascent begins. For at the time 1 speak of, the locality 

 being the region of the lofty " pepperbox hill " overlooking 

 Daventry, every horse, be he second or single, had had 

 nearly his fill of gallop and flounder, of mud and of jump, 

 of hard ground and of hill. 



Thus, this second fox being killed in forty-five minutes 

 (tolerably straight), Goodall had the satisfaction of handling 

 a brace fairly in the open, we of enjoying our first bustling 

 day since the year began and its frost set in. I wish I 

 could paint, for those who know it not, the delight of thus 

 getting to work again, the joy of renewing our daily life, 

 our daily society, our happy occupation. I cannot. And, 

 indeed, personally I find even my own subsidiary employ- 

 ment so grateful that, loth to go to bed, I have already run 

 the risk of wearying. 



