Mr. Edmund Byron 85 



cry enough, and to look on at the efforts of their com- 

 rades to catch the flying pack, who were now considerably 

 ahead of the field. In following Mr. Byron, who was 

 well with his hounds all day, we came on the pack with 

 their heads up, the fox having been headed at this point 

 by some shepherds and turned almost straight up the hill 

 again. This good fox was determined, however, to make 

 his point, as he soon turned again downhill and made for 

 Brasted Station, the pack in close attendance. Hounds 

 now for a moment overran the line and had to be brought 

 back to the Master, who took them through the railway 

 arch and set them going again on the right-hand side of 

 the road. They then made straight over the water 

 meadows, through Brasted Park to the Chart. Before 

 we arrived here, however, wire and locked gates spoiled 

 the finish of a glorious run, as the Master was unable to 

 get to hounds and render them the needful assistance 

 when in difficulties. He tried most persistently to recover 

 the line of this now thoroughly beaten fox, but he was 

 at length compelled to admit that he was beaten, and 

 hounds started, therefore, on their long jog to kennel 

 disappointed, although thoroughly deserving their feast. 

 Fox-hunting has its various aspects and various degrees of 

 enjoyment in different countries, and, though we cannot 

 all hunt over the best countries, I maintain that any man 

 who rides to hunt could not have gone home after 

 this day without having thoroughly enjoyed himself. 

 Although, in the days of the immortal Jorrocks and 

 his huntsman James Pigg, there were not perhaps so many 



