RUN FROM DOWNS BANKS. 67 



paper. This has tempted a North Staffordshire fox-hunter to send an account of 

 a good day last week. The meet on Friday was at Barlaston, where the truth 

 of the proverb "variety is charming" had ample opportunity of being proved, 

 for every variety of mount was visible. Boys on half-broken colts, enjoying 

 themselves as thoroughly as the gentlemen whose appearance filled one with 

 wonder as to how long it had taken to attain such a height of perfection ; ladies 

 on their pretty dancing steeds, children on ponies, etc. After partaking of the 

 hospitality of Mr. James Meakin, the field, under the guidance of the Marquis of 

 Stafford, awaited the appearance of that animal on whose head hung the hopes 

 and expectations of all present ; but, alas ! lleynard, doubtlessly alarmed by the 

 numerous foot-passengers (whose zeal occasionally outstrips their prudence), was 

 not " at home," and we trotted on to Cocknage, which also proved " no go." 

 The word of command was then given for Moddershall, and when this also was 

 drawn blank, looks of anxiety and despondency were seen on most faces, till the 

 magic words '• Downs Banks " began to be whispered, and on arriving there, girths 

 were tightened, luncheon hastily despatched, etc., when lo ! first a wliimper, then a 

 cry, then a wild holloa, proclaims to the anxious field that the desire of their hearts 

 has broken cover. Now for a scramble up the hill. But what's that ? " Tally-ho 

 back ; " and back we creep, finding on reaching the gorse again that Reynard is 

 once more on foot. Away we go, every nerve quivering with excitement, down 

 to Kibblestone, with scarcely a look at the gorse, over the fields to Moddershall, 

 which our leader, being hard pressed, dashes boldly through, and makes for Spot 

 Gorse. Here a slight check occurs, just enough to breathe our panting horses, 

 before off we are again. Stallington is passed at a rattler, and down we go with 

 scarcely a check to Cresswell or Leigh (in the hurry little notice is taken of the 

 station), over the railway, and pointing bravely towards Cheadle, our gallant fox 

 tears on, but from inquiries we learn that he is pretty well spent. " How long 

 ago?" " A good time." Then "ten minutes," then "five," till at last when 

 the spires of Cheadle become distinctly seen from the hill on which we stand 

 " Tally-ho " resounds, and our brave but ill-fated conductor struggles forth from 

 the covert, is immediately pulled down by the foremost hound, and we know our 

 good run of abr ut two hours is over. The master presents the brush to Miss 

 Hollins, who has ridden extremely well throughout ; and then inquiries are made 

 for missing friends, and we jog home discussing the day's sport with all the 

 ardour of fox-hunters. 



One who likes a Good Run. 



Dickins's diary account of this run was as follows : 

 " Barlaston Hall. Found at Downs Banks. Ran fast to 

 Stallington, on down to Creswell by Draycot village, and 

 killed him at Cheadle. One hour and ten minutes." 



The writer was out, and entered the run in his own 

 diary as a good gallop with a very good straight fox, and 

 over rather an unusual line of country, as the foxes from 

 that side seldom cross the Crewe and Derby line of rail- 

 way. The kill was at Litley Farm, about a mile from 

 Cheadle, on the Draycot side, and to the writer the 

 run had the special and unusual attraction of landing 



