220 HUNTING IN MANY COUNTRIES. 



deer, still able to bound lightly over the banks and trim 

 fences of the valley, but unable to maintain the pace for long. 

 Swinging round in a ring to the corner of Furse Close, he came 

 to a final standstill in a small hurdled enclosure in a deserted 

 lane. Here Mr. John Clatworthy, of Exton, jumped off his 

 horse and took him single-handed before the leading hounds 

 could reach him. Time from the lay on four hours, and from 

 the fresh find at Elworthy Barrows, one hour and five minutes, 

 this latter part particularly fast, and over a stiff and difficult 

 oountry." 



Never was there a more truthful or graphic description 

 written of a run than this. I can, if I close my eyes, see the 

 stag taken, and I had noticed Mr. Clatworthy several times 

 during the hunt, he being conspicuous because of the rope he 

 carried over his shoulder. It was a great hunt, and the latter 

 part of it a scurry over a flattish, strongly fenced country. 

 We were little more than a mile from the sea at Watchett 

 when the end came, and noi doubt the sea was the stag's point. 

 As well as I remember, some fifteen to twenty of a very big 

 field saw the end, and Mr. Priestman and I — hardened by five 

 consecutive days of hunting — were two of them. Getting 

 back to Porlock Weir was now the question, and we rode slov/ly 

 to Dunster, arriving there to find the hotel crowded with hunt- 

 ing folk who had dropped out in various parts of the run. 

 It was out of the question to ride our tired horses any further, 

 but when I had hired a waggonette and horses it took me 

 nearly an hour to find a man to drive them, as it was Satur- 

 day, and the men had finished work for the week. I succeeded 

 at last, however, and was then besieged for a lift by others 

 whose horses were done. At length we got away, the 

 wagonette laden to its fullest capacity, and sat down to 

 dinner at the Anchor at ten o'clock. This day stands out 

 among the best half-dozen of my life. 



Mention of my brief experiences with the Devon and 

 Somerset Staghounds reminds me that it is hunting rather 

 than riding which (before the war) brought probably the 

 greater number of the visitore to that country in August of 

 every year. There were, I need hardly say, hunting-men from 

 all parts of the kingdom among the riding crowds on Exmoor, 

 many Masters of hounds, and — as a matter of course in these 



