1878—79.] THE PUNCHBOWL RUN. 279 



his light, darts into the road to lead the fiekl along the right 

 bank of the stream — as, over wet and broken gi-ass, they hurry 

 on till tliey can bear up again to hounds. Cai3tain Hartopp 

 remains in the lane (I allude still to the Dalby and Pickwell 

 road) to warn all who come of the wire for whose removal he 

 has laboured for years ; then sets to work after Mr. Lowther 

 — and eventually performs the best feat of the run. For, with 

 fully sixteen stone up, he .is well in it from find to finish. 

 Hounds are now pointing for Berry Gorse ; and no one along- 

 side but Mr. Lowther, till they swing round to Leesthorpe — a 

 lucky turn that deserves more gratitude and congTatulation 

 than it has, or is ever likely to receive. Now, reader, j^ou can 

 join in with Neal and with the whole galloping frenzied body, 

 as from the cross roads of Leesthorpe they pound the granite 

 for Stapleford. Admit j^ou have never seen a hound for the 

 past several minutes, till j'ou catch them flying down the 

 stubblefield on the right. Hustle out of the road where you 

 can escape the thundering mass. You can gallop even arable 

 down-hill ; and you have stiffer work than this before you 

 still. Your head is for Whissendine village now ; two quick 

 fences next, and then what I may term the pseudo-Whissendine 

 (the stream leading on under Laxton's covert) is below you^ 

 Its brink is reached by fifty men almost abreast — hounds 

 speeding onwards, now and throughout, as you seldom see 

 them run — not a falter in their straining pace, and every note a 

 whimper. With a bridge within fifty j^ards, Captain Jacobson 

 takes the Avater as it comes, lights upon grass, and scores a 

 triumph which he maintains, deservedly and determinedly, to 

 the end. Mr. Harter, Lord Manners, Mr. G. Leigh, and others, 

 hit off the bridge in their stride. But the bridge has a gate ; 

 and the gate is fastened as it cannot be opened from horseback. 

 It is only a moment to turn round and jump on to the low- 

 parapeted brickwork ; but it is a precious moment with a pack 

 on the wing as now. And now, instead of sound turf, they are 

 on the most choking plough that ever defied a horse. They 

 daren't trot ; they can't take a pull. The test must be put ; 



