1880—81.] SHARP MOMENTS. 357 



liesitance now as the left division springs the Queniboro' brook 

 in the open field, while the right pushes through a strong 

 bullfinch into the Croxton Lane, takes the rails out at a stand, 

 and strikes the brook at a bridge. It is only at the second ridge 

 beyond that ]\Ir. Harter and Yirv race up to the pack as they 

 hover a moment at a wlieatfield. Another second, they are 

 over the Queniboro' and Tilton turnpike, and set going again 

 amid the most closely-fenced and intricate country in the 

 Hunt. In the place of the former broad pastures come narrovs^ 

 dairy meadows, with gaunt great fences only to be pierced 

 here and there. The pack are raking onwards, and momentarily 

 there is more danger of losing them. Turning and twisting 

 here and there, the leaders jump in and out to keep on terms ; 

 and as hounds dash through a narrow plantation short of 

 Gaddesby, one and all of them are pounded. Mr. Brocklehurst 

 in vain attempts to force a direct course ; the others (among 

 whom, besides the above, are Mr. J. Behrens, Captain "Smith, 

 Lord Henry Vane Tempest, and one or two others) push 

 their way into the plantation at a corner, wind through a 

 labyrinth of trees, and clatter out over a rail beyond, while 

 Mr. Peake makes use of a stile and footboard in the side fence 

 adjoining. A| fm-ther difficulty comes next in the bottom, 

 over which hounds have turned suddenly for Barsby. There 

 is a vast noise of cracking timber, much struggling and 

 " Come-up "-ing, and a way is made. Fences every fifty 

 yards, stiffly built, strongly bound, horses shortening their 

 stride, bullfinches spoiling shaven features — one object only in 

 vifew, to get -on somehow\ Ah, it is too short, very sweet — an 

 excitement worth livmg for. Who says that a ride ought not 

 to constitute part of foxhunting ? Let such go to harriers, 

 leaving us the merry Quorn pack, and a scrambUng burst from 

 Barkby Holt ! Yet it had been better for us and poor Keynard 

 that that water-fed drain by Barsby had not held out a false 

 sanctuary. It put an end to our gallop and an end to his 

 troubles ! Tear him and eat him, old fellows ! Peace to his 

 manes ! and a glass to-night to foxhunting. 



