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March 4th.— 



The meet was at Marston Magna. We 

 had a long trot to Podymore, which we might 

 have spared, as there was nothing in it, and, 

 in the touching words of the popular song, 

 "Oh! what a surprise," there was nothing in 

 Annis Hills, either, nor in Babcary Thorns, nor 

 in Yarcombe. Hounds, however, were no sooner 

 in Mr. Bennett's laurels at Cadbury than out 

 came the little red rover we wished to see, and 

 he raced to Cadbury Castle, and got to ground in 

 eight minutes. Another, though, took his place, 

 and we ran to Littleton Hill, Sigwells, Bristol 

 Gorse, and the Cleaves, past the Wheatsheaf 

 Gorse, and lost him, after about an hour's run, 

 heading for Holway. There was a freezing fog 

 all the morning, and the ground under the 

 trees was whitened with solid little bits of ice 

 that kept falling off them. 



March 5th. — 



Of all the scentless days this week this 

 was the " scentlessest " — if I may coin a word. 

 Bvery hedge, tree, and bramble was drawn 



