A WET, WILD GALLOP 



457 



Exceptionally late, and exceptionally favourable is this 

 spring of 1895, the vegetation nearly a month behind its 

 time, and the ground, never as yet approaching hardness, 

 now revived to perfection by recent downpour. The Forest, 

 to be at its best for hunting and for riding, should be at its 

 wettest. So say all who know it far more intimately than 

 I can pretend to. 



The dangers of bog and bough 



That there belongs to all hunting in the New Forest — 

 even the winter through — some special charm which, 

 though not necessarily patent to the uninitiated, grows 

 vastly with experience, is indisputable. Else would not so 

 many good men find delight and content therein. I speak 

 not of the visitors. To the latter are obvious enough the 

 beauties of forest scenery and the excitement of galloping 

 to hounds amid the milder dangers of bog and bough (the 



