1876—77.] THE TWO (IREAT EUNS OF THE SEASON. 183 



you near the Melton and Oakham turnpike road, the Whissen- 

 dine in its earl}- stage running just at your feet. Tally-ho on 

 the opposite hill. There goes reynard, not a quarter of a mile 

 away, the terrified flocks scouring from his path. The brook 

 is here fringed with osier beds, and you must diverge right or 

 left to reach the pastures beyond. Lord Esme Gordon finds 

 it practicable somewhere to the left, the others bear off towards 

 the road. A blind ditch closes Sir B. Dixie's hitherto pros- 

 perous career, while the uncompromising drop into the lane 

 brings Mr. Markliam (who has been going right well for the 

 credit of Eton) to alarming but, fortunately, not serious grief. 

 The ugliest fence in the run indeed is this, with its formidable 

 stake-and-bound, its yawning ditch, its drop on landing, and 

 the cutting of the road beyond. Neal clatters i)ast and up the 

 macadam, having overshot the mark near Ranksboro'. He too 

 views his fox over j-onder, and, turning into the field once 

 more, as soon as the bridge is crossed, cheers his hounds to 

 gain a field upon his foe. You'll get no pull at your horse at 

 present, for they rattle on now as fast as when they started. 

 Another dragging plough well nigh chokes horses that already 

 find tlieir girths too tight for them. Jumping is becoming a 

 labour to more than one horse, whose strength or condition 

 cannot cope with this bursting pace, or with whom liberties had 

 to be taken at starting. Lord Esme Gordon is down, and Mr. 

 Creyke is detained at tlie same time ; Mr. Duncan has got 

 into difficulties somewliere, though he was here but a moment 

 ago. Over another ridge for Leesthorpe — the Colonel, in liis 

 cheeriest vein, leading the van, with Mr, Ernest Chaplin, 

 Captain Featherstonhaugh, Lord Manners, and Neal and 

 Goddard close to his skirts ; so on, over the grass and over 

 fences that you may take in your stride, the hounds racing for 

 Dalby Hall. Now 3'ou jump into the Pickwell and Leesthorpe 

 road, and the Colonel is out again in a jiff'ey. " You can't get 

 out there, sir ! " shouts the huntsman ; " the field's wired all 

 round that side ! " You may either follow his advice and him, 

 and go round the field by the road, or you may take your 



