Ci THE BEST SEASON ON KECOHD. 



dence amid the elm trees, there was something in the air 

 that spoke of sterhng vigorous sport. Why else should 

 one and all ot" us — knowing little, if anything, of the 

 mystery of scent, and daily learning only that we know 

 less — have exclaimed " There'll be a run to-day? " The 

 spirit of instinct chimed in with the fostering wdsh — 

 and the outcome was more than we had dared to hope. 



The day began with a pleasant five-and-twenty 

 minutes' ring from Gaddesby Spinney, performed in the 

 closely fenced area of Barsby parish, and ended by the 

 fox getting to ground at Queniborough Spinney, close to 

 which he was found. In this little hunt alone we had 

 jumped enough fences to constitute a day's work for a 

 horse in many countries ; but it was early yet for second 

 horses, and many a man forbore to change — who would 

 gladly have had that first freshness under him wdien, a 

 little while hence, the struggle came. Casualties both to 

 horse and man occurred, even in this short pursuit. 

 They are never pleasant subjects for record. But the 

 accident by which Lord Lanesborough lost a valuable 

 horse was as curious as it was untoward. While 

 galloping down a turnip-tield (one of perhaps three 

 pieces of plough crossed during the day), and looking 

 over the hedge at the hounds running beyond, he rode 

 chest-on against the handle of a horse-hoe, which 

 pierced his horse to the heart — the shock sending the 

 rider on to his face on the ground. The horse stood for 

 one moment over his master, deluging him with blood ; 

 then, rearing straight on end, fell dead beside him. 



Barkby Gorse, a sipiare covert of some half-dozen 



