THE NEW YEAR IN. 121 



the flying' pack — so clear and sharp and regidar is its 

 rapidly fleeting mnsic. Now we are in the Nottingham 

 and Melton road. Where are the hounds that we hear 

 so plainly ? Yonder they flit by the railway side (the 

 Holwell ironstone track). We have ridden the exact 

 reverse of the line already this year with the Belvoir — 

 and to this perhaps we owe the gallop of to-day. But 

 what is really curious lies in the fact that we shall ride 

 these very fences, creep these very holes, open these 

 very gates, in a second run to-day. Let that remain. I 

 promise myself and you to inflict no minute repetition. 

 'Tis all I can do to separate two runs so oddly en- 

 tangled. 



The next I remember in this hurried chase is half a 

 dozen hot-faced men huddled in a corner — looking one 

 to the other for assistance, and each lookuig less capable 

 than the other of giving it. A new white oxer in front, 

 a drop beyond — two refusals against the side fence — and 

 " bellows-to-mend " all round. But the good sorrel war- 

 horse, that has become almost as famed and familiar as 

 his master, is equal to this or any other similar occasion. 

 The white rails are shown to be no impossibility — and 

 the next comer, bringing still further evidence, and 

 weight, to bear, removes their self-assertion altogether. 



The pack runs the waggonway for half a mile ; most 

 of us run it a mile, and join the bridleroad throng from 

 AVartnaby, Kettleby, and Holwell. But ^Mr. Cochrane 

 carries out the principle of seiiiores priorcs by boring a 

 way through the overhanging bullfinch alongside — and 

 carries out also the huntsman and a grateful following 



