GALLOP FROM DRAYCOT WOODS. 119 



" If hunting were like shooting and tlie bag made the great point, what a red- 

 letter day wonld Monday last be in the annals of our sport ! Three foxes killed ! 

 Enough to satisfy the most sanguinary huntsman considering his dear hounds, 

 the most revengeful farmer mourning his lost fowls, the most ambitious school- 

 boy panting for distinction in the shape of brush or pad. 



" Our meet is at Bird-in-Hand, Ililderstone, a very unpretending spot, but 

 lately very well attended, owing to the good stout foxes the surroimding coverts 

 have given us, both last season and this. Although the day is bright and fine, 

 the night's rain makes us avoid the deep muddy drives in the wood ; so an 

 eagerly expectant crowd hovers outside, listening impatiently to each sound, 

 almost dreading to hear the faint echoes of the horn, fearing to stand and yet 

 afraid to move, for 'tis a dreadful thing to be left behind and have to rush through 

 a wood very late and — very cross. After some anxious moments, Dickins 

 emerges with the pack, followed by anotiier crowd, and as our waiting has turned 

 out so well, we look in a superior kind of manner at their muddy appearance. If 

 this weather lasts much longer, fresh names must surely be invented for woods, 

 brooks, and especially mud. The next wood proves better. Scarcely are the 

 hounds in before they are off, and after an exciting chase of about ten minutes, 

 our unlucky fox is pulled down in Briudley's Covert. After breaking him up 

 another wood is drawn, and it too furnishes a member. Tliis one, after about two 

 fields, falls a victim to the eager pack. Hounds are really a little too quick to- 

 day, we begin to think, but the weather is so lovely, warm, and summer-like, 

 that it is a pleasure to be out, even if we in hunting phrase ' do nothing.' ' Too 

 warm,' say the sportsmen, but still so delicious, after all the cold and rain we 

 have had. Birchwood Park and Gorse are now tried, but the distant noise and 

 clamour have disturbed the friend — or foe — we wish to find, and he has left 

 home. Finally we come to Draycot Wood, stroll about halfway up the drive, 

 hear ' Tally-ho,' and then throw strolling to the winds. Yes, there they are, the 

 jolly pack, going grandly a field oft". We are not long in following them, and as 

 they stream along we wonder where they are going. Towards Leigh, it seems ; 

 then with a quick turn they change and go through a farmyard — we are too 

 hurried to r jtice whose. Here for a moment they are puzzled, but Dickins soon 

 hints to them a possible chance, and like the wind they take it. Round Stalling- 

 ton Hall we troop, straight across the road and into the Black AVoods. What a 

 comfort ! About two minutes' breathing space for our poor horses. It doesn't 

 last long, though, and truly it is a grand and stirring sight to see the pack rushing 

 down the hill, A few fields more bring us to Rough Close, and that little square 

 covert rather puzzles us, for which side will he take ? And, oh ! we can't see. 

 However, some good angel guides us, and we get to the top of the hill just as the 

 hounds have comfortably gone over. One or two fields show us Cocknage 

 peering over the hill, and we begin to think of an easy place to get down, for 

 there is rather a nasty drop of about fifteen feet somewhere about here. Perhaps 

 at this point we do not enjoy quite so much the sight of the hounds racing across 

 the scene some two or three fields ahead, but after a little looking, a good place is 

 found. One by one we scramble down, and at Cocknage we soon get up to them. 

 But here it is only just a look into the covert and out again, straight down some 

 more fields, and under the railway leading to the Florence Colliery. Now, we 

 ran one to ground somewhere about here last week, and most people think that 

 the subtle one remembers it ; but no. Either the place is stopped,;,hounds are too 

 close, or other good reasons intervene, for Reynard pushes on, and, with the 

 utmost effrontery, goes up the hill, passes a football crew, supposing them to be 

 too busy to attend to him, and slips down a street in Dresden. Well, if there 



