80 THE BEST SEASON ON RECORD. 



than eyes if we would stick to a run fox. Now we seem 

 to be bearing upward to Clawson Thorns ; but it is a 

 irood omen that we turn suddenly down the vale a^^ain 

 as we meet a waggon at the Clawson road. Reynard 

 cannot be far ahead, or why should the waggon have 

 mattered to him ? Hounds are driving with their hackles 

 up ; but a fresh ploughed fallow by Long Clawson 

 Village gives them, for the second and last time, a 

 moment of puzzle and search. A hat is up at the corner 

 of the field ; hounds are lifted this once ; and in the next 

 great pasture they are racing the big brown fox up the 

 hedgeside — rumble-and-worry forming a thrilling bass to 

 the shrill sharp treble of a who-hoop that might be 

 heard at Melton. 



A IMonday field with the Quorn is always of pleasant 

 dimension — as it is of very pleasant material — enough 

 people for sociability and enough to ride a run. Yet 

 there is none of the crowd belonging to a Friday south 

 of the Wreake — nor are the elements of the field so 

 varied, comprehensive, and heterogeneous. Men seem 

 to be better known to each other and to hail more from 

 one district ; while the formers, in greater force, always 

 take advantage of a Monday Avlien they can. The 

 following names represent a strong proportion of last 

 Monday's meet ; and most of these might equally be 

 incorporated with the finish of the day : Mr. Coupland 

 and Miss Webster, Colonel Forester, Captain and Miss 

 Starkey, Mrs. Parker, Miss Paget, General Chippindall, 

 Colonel Gosling, Captains Ashton, Barclay, Boyce, 

 Grimston, Henry, King, Langlands, Messrs. Cochrane (2), 



