1877—78.] KIRBY GATE, 1877. 203 



bowl Hill, he carried the hunt so quickly, that three-quarters 

 of the held climbed the eminence, only to find themselves left 

 completely in the lurch ; but they had still another chance 

 given them, for ho was met close to Somerby village, and 

 driven back almost into their faces. Thus everyone was 

 "in it," as a monientry check took place where Mr. Clifford 

 Chaplin's house overlooks the beautiful Burrough and 

 Twyford feeding grounds — a country that we hereabouts are 

 wont not only to speak of as our best, but to boast of proudly 

 as the best in Enfiland. It was over this grassy arena that the 

 Cottesmore had their two memorable runs last season, and it 

 is over this that the Quorn have never failed to gallop with 

 a burning scent whenever a good fox has thrown down his 

 gauntlet upon it. A field of turnips crowns the hill ; a flight 

 of hurdles makes dashing riders of us all, and fifty men are in 

 among the hounds ; but turnips, nor hurdles, nor over-riding 

 belong to the twenty minutes that is in front. Hounds extricate 

 themselves like eels from the crushing mob around them, and 

 glide suddenly and swiftly into the valley beneath. Two small 

 fences are almost swept away by the charging lines of horsemen ; 

 but the steep dip soon breaks the ranks, for man must have 

 nerve and horse must have shoulders to gallop down here. You 

 must have him in hand, or how will you negotiate the boggy jump 

 awaiting you below '? and you must not check him or you are at 

 once a field behind. Solve the difficulty as best you may, and 

 according as you are on terms with yourself and your mount. 

 And let us suppose you are not the lady whose horse has sunk 

 on his side in the quagmire, nor that, like these two gallant 

 sportsmen, you are up to your knees in the mud, with your 

 horse Ij'ing girth-deep on the j)ost-and-rails that you had pro- 

 posed he should jump. No ! a double on and off' a hedge- 

 topped bank has saved you from the slough ; but you are none 

 too near the merry Quorn bitches as you take a firm ludd on 

 the bridle, and push up the trifling ascent in front. An open 

 gate serves a turn here, and now there is nothing between 

 hounds and the covert of worshipful John o' Gaunt but the 



