LONG POINTS AND THE HEYTHROP. 209 



built over — between Maiden station and Coombe, and, in 

 fact, over the ground which is now taken up by the two 

 Coombe ^olf clubs. I have also seen the Old Berkeley (West) 

 running all round Denham and to within a mile of Uxbridge, 

 and I have seen the Old Berkeley (probably East) near the 

 railway about half-way between Harrow and Watford, but that 

 was from a train window. I have also seetn the West Surrey 

 Staghounds twice run a stag to Surbiton station, and on each 

 occasion take it in the goods yard. The first hunt was from 

 Slyfield — where many point- to-points have been run — and the 

 stag at first went south nearly to Effingham. Then he turned, 

 crossed the Mole a mile west of Leatherhead, and went on to 

 Oxshott, where hounds got up to him and were called 

 off. He then ran through the coverts north of Ox- 

 shott, passed east of Claygate, and went on to Surbiton. 

 The other hunt was after a meet not far from Guildford, but 

 the stag — the same in either case — came right back to Sur- 

 biton. These hunts took place during Mr. Martin Rucker's 

 Mastership, probably in 1896 or the following year. 



How near to London some of the Essex packs may come I 

 hardly know, but I imagine that the Essex, Essex Union, 

 and Mr. Bosanqu^t's (in Herts) may at times come even 

 nearer than Surbiton. The Essex Union I first saw as long 

 ago as during Mr. Scratton's third Mastership, which ter- 

 minated in 1869. I was only a boy at the time, and was 

 staying at the Royal Hotel at Southend, recovering from 

 measles. Another boy of sporting taste was with me, and as 

 it was midwinter and the place — then quite a small town — 

 deserted, we had a lot of sport. We secured hirelings and had 

 several days with Mr. Scratton, and both of us one day got 

 into a deep drain on the marshes somewhere, I am inclined 

 to think, in the neighbourhood of Southminster. When we 

 were not hunting we went wild-fowl shooting in a little centre- 

 board cutter manned by a brace of fishermen named Sol Ipsey 

 and Tom Plumb — I have always remembered these rather 

 unusual names- — and they were both experts in the coast 

 shooting of that day and put us in the way of securing a fair 

 number of duck and other wild -fowl. We used to go round 

 the coast to the Crouch river, if the wind suited, and up the 

 Thames estuary if it was blowing too hard outside. We had 



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