2 THE BEST SEASON ON RECORD. 



siicli tiny coverts must of necessity throw most of tlie 

 work outside their boundaries. And all the country 

 round Gaddesby Is very charming when hounds cross it — 

 •even before the leaves have fallen or the herbage has lost 

 its summer luxuriance. The inclosures are all grass, the 

 fences perhaps a little strong for nerves that are yet 

 scarcely tuned to play. But the gates are ample and 

 handy ; and there were men enough to-day to ride 

 through a rail or to point a ready alternative at any 

 moment. Between Gaddesby and Queniboro' especially, 

 gates provide a happy release from difficulties otherwise 

 insuperable ; for the thorn fences grow to a height above 

 ambition or daring, in even their rarest and extreraest 

 forms. Now, besides being big and forbidding, they 

 •constituted so many leafy screens which constantly hid 

 hounds from sight when only a field away ; and our 

 galloping in search was often very vague and haphazard. 

 A stralo-ht fox and a stronir scent would have lost us all 

 more than once. But foxes do not always run straight 

 in October (the happy succession of gallops two years ago 

 forming the proving exception) ; and so, though we rode 

 and jumped, loitered and shirked, for upwards of two 

 hours on Friday afternoon, it was almost entirely within 

 the little triangle of Gaddesby, Barkby Holt and Queni- 

 boro' (each point at about two miles apart from the 

 others). The day was as hot and sultry as any of the 

 indifferent harvest weather of the year ; many horses still 

 carried their summer coats, while many riders had gone 

 so far in deference to the occasion as to swathe them- 

 selves at least In hunting waistcoats and winter flannel. 



