68 The Old Surrey Fox Hounds 



picked up the scent again by the roadside, and — though 

 the old chap still repeated that no fox had been there — 

 the Master said to him, c I would rather believe that 

 hound than you.' The hound was right. We had another 

 glorious spin, winding up with a kill in the open. Mr. 

 Nicholls, one of the Masters, had a nasty fall during that 

 gallop, but he rode pluckily to the end. £ I don't 

 mind tumbling about,' he said, c after good sport like 

 this, and more dirt less hurt, more mud less blood.' He 

 was smothered in mire, and seemed to revel in his 



unsavouriness." 



A mine of information concerning these hounds is the 

 veteran Tom Gilbert, and a volume might be written, if 

 not read — though we think it would be perused with 

 interest — embodying his recollections. They are full of 

 bright sporting interest. They take us back to the good 

 old days when there were plenty of straight-necked foxes, 

 and the country was all right to ride, and our robust 

 forbears were keen as mustard on the chase, devoting to 

 it a pure-souled ardour which might be regarded as 

 somewhat of an anachronism in these sordid and decadent 

 times. It is surely a pleasure to listen to the discourse of 

 elderly Nimrods. They are able to tell us so much 

 that — if it be not garnered and placed on record now — is 

 likely to be lost so far as a future generation is concerned. 

 Those ancient heroes are passing away ; we do not breed 

 them at present on the same lines as formerly ; we shall 

 not look upon their like again ; and, therefore, it is well 

 to place a few of their sporting utterances on record for 



