1879—80.] MARCH SUN AND SCENT. 323 



rebutton your coat — even exchange some out-of-place chaff, as 

 you gallop the side lane to reach the bordering road. But the 

 glimpse of white speckled forms, streaking the gi'een meadow 

 beyond the intervening trees, must stir you to life and energy, 

 if you have any ; and you swing the corners and drive into the 

 ojien with either spur well. How on earth Firr can find time 

 to work his horn at such a moment is more than an outside 

 mortal can explain. It is going hard ; and so is he, down the 

 turf slope to the Scraptoft Bottom, a boggy, hateful place, Avith 

 a strong guard of thorns be3^ond. Mr. Herl)ert Flower loses 

 his horse in making a way through ; Captain Barstow gets to 

 the other side with a flounder, but is floored b}^ the following 

 oxer, where the near ditch is filled with thorns and the far rail 

 lies wide. Firr is alone in near pursuit of hounds flying like 

 the wind : Captain Barclay is straining after him, and Captain 

 Heygate in his wake, with Ijady Florence Dixie close up. 

 Gallop as they can, hounds beat them all the wa}', for this 

 furious fourteen minutes (as Avell as 1 could time it) to l^arkby 

 Holt. Gates help them, and fences lie easy. There is a bridge 

 over the Keyham Bottom (as they leave the village to the right), 

 and the Beeby difficulty is overcome by galloping the village 

 road. "He's just afore j^ou ! " cries one rustic. " You'll be 

 on him in a minute ! " shouts another. They had left covert 

 at his brush ; but he is never in sight again, till they spring 

 into the field beside Barkby Holt. He had meant ^^assing the 

 wood, but when half way over the stubble had realised his 

 peril — and here he comes across them, with his brush already 

 down and his tongue hanging. Tally ho ! Lu — lu ! ! The 

 leading couples course him through the fence ; and his doom 

 is sealed — though he may, and will, j'et postpone it for a while. 

 He seeks a breathing moment by crossing from the Holt to the 

 Gorse ; but quickly they bring him back, and out where he 

 entered. He takes a comrade away with him ; and a plough 

 team divides them, sending one to Beeby, the other to Queni- 

 borough. A trusty old lady of the pack has never been dumb 

 or faltering since they entered the Holt, and she elects for 



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