1877—78.] A NORTH WARWICKSHIRE CORNER. 221 



Crick and Lilbourne, and within a mile of the course over 

 which the Grand Military Steeplechases have been so often 

 (but are now, alas ! no longer) run. It is quite a corner of 

 the North Warwickshire country — and often a sweet " warm 

 corner" has it proved. 



If you are a stranger, of course you can't do better than 

 follow the huntsman — if only you are decently mounted and 

 your heart is half as hard as his. Again a holloa has sounded, 

 on the north or Lilbourne side of the covert, and so the most 

 remote from where you and he are standing. Wheatley is your 

 guide's name, and he gives you no time to look at the hog- 

 backed stile, with its wide foot board, that touches the right 

 edge of the covert. Not even his lead through will avail to 

 put you at once over the broken banked bottom and stiff black- 

 thorn fence that meet you next. His horse comes round at 

 the forbidding obstacle ; but Mr. Wedge and his little brown 

 fly the chasm in as good form as any deed of daring that you 

 are likely to have seen done this season. Twenty yards lower 

 down you may divide the impediment into an easier double 

 jump ; and now you are in the Watling- street road and pounding 

 along, with your mind made up for Lilbourne and two miles on 

 the flat. But hounds are bearing away from you ; so stick 

 close to the lead you have chosen and embark at once on the 

 flat meadows to your left. There has not been rain enough to 

 make them deep ; you may gallop your best and the fences 

 come in your stride. You are not half as near hounds as you 

 ought to be ; for that turn has rather shouldered you off, and 

 they are flying up the wind with a clear half-field to the good 

 of anyone. You may have crossed these very meadows in 

 silk and cap ; but you certainly never had to take tighter hold 

 of your horse than now. And then they had picked the easiest 

 place in the brook for you, and screened it with inviting thorns. 

 Now you must take your chance, where you can reach it 

 quickest — where Wheatley is landing, and one falls on either 

 side of him. A low oak rail marks the take-off; but it is an 

 honest sixteen feet fly. The young one luckily will bear 



