1873—74.] GAY NOVEMBER. 113 



we ma}', and that we should say so ? We have had a growl, 

 even a groan, in these pages before now ; who shall deny us 

 the right to trumpet forth our triumphs ? for we speak only to 

 appreciative ears, not to those of the cynical or unsympathetic. 



But to get back to Scraptoft Gorse in time to hurry on 

 again, this time over the Quorn country. It was the old 

 familiar scene of a crush in the lane, hounds tearing over the 

 one little stubble that bounds the Keyham grass, some men 

 riding right, others riding left to avoid it, while a few only 

 struck in with the pack. And, as we have seen over and over 

 again, there was a sudden turn as the grass was reached, and 

 one-half at least of a hard-riding field thrown off at a tangent. 

 This time it was the half (and much larger half it was) who 

 had held along the lane towards the Coplow ; and as Mr. 

 Tailby twisted short to his left — boring through an overhang- 

 ing bullfinch that threatened total separation from his pack 

 — he was left almost alone in near pursuit. Now they skirted 

 the deep Keyham Bottom, flying along at a pace that scarcely 

 suited the necessity of the two greasy stiles in their course 

 towards Barkby. Mr. Coleman joined the master as the first 

 road was crossed ; then the dreaded bottom was threaded, its 

 second passage leaving Mr. Tailby again alone with the pack. 

 Just as Barkby Thorpe was imminent, their fox found himself 

 so closely pressed that he gave it up, and bore round back for 

 Scraptoft. He was now close in front, and it seemed odds on 

 their pulling him down before he could reach the gorse. But 

 within a field of it a fresh fox jumped up, and this distraction 

 soon led to more complications, for from the long plantation 

 they got into the laurels and set two or three more of the 

 genus on foot. So the run ended harmlessly as the gorse was 

 regained. 



Monda}^ (November 17) was the best day the Quorn has yet 



experienced. Before this they had enjoyed many pretty little 



spurts while waiting their turn for something better ; but on 



Monday Fortune smiled her blandest upon them. They met 



at Six Hills on a cold still morning, such as is welcomed only 



r 



