9 2 The Old Surrey Fox Hounds 



" Oh, yes," replied the veteran huntsman, " I have had 

 plenty of falls, they were part of the day's work, but I 

 was generally pretty lucky in avoiding serious hurt. One 

 of my worst tumbles was at Westerham, where my horse 

 put his feet in a rabbit-hole — -just as I was warning some- 

 body else to look out — and he gave me a fearful crushing. 

 Besides," added Sam, with his dry humour, " he knocked 

 all my teeth out except three, and I have no idea where 

 the others went to. I was unconscious until it was too 

 late to make a search for them in the long grass. And 

 the new ones have done very well." 



Warming to his work, or, rather, settling down into 

 his stride, Sam also mentioned that his head has been 

 knocked about a great deal, and that on one desperate 

 occasion he had his throat severely cut by a horse jumping 

 on it when he was down. His windpipe was rather 

 conspicuously exhibited. That was a narrow shave for 

 the plucky huntsman. 



"Even now," he confessed, " I feel the effects of those 

 promiscuous crushings, especially with a change of weather. 

 But my general health is good, except for a touch of the 

 gout occasionally, and that " — his eyes twinkled again — 

 " I don't attribute to the hunting." 



Our conversation next turned on the doings of the Old 

 Surrey hounds in their palmy days, with a view to make 

 our history more complete in that particular ; and, happily, 

 it was on this theme, as might have been expected, that 

 Sam Hills became exceptionally enthusiastic. Hunting is 

 not what it was, nothing like so good as it used to be in 



