from the staff of this very large and well-managed farm. They have beaten
the woods so often that they know exactly what to do, when properly
generalled. Our landlord was one of the guns, and his son, who does not
shoot, but knows the wood thoroughly, kindly took command of the men, and
kept things going at best pace through the day. Anything prettier than the
entrance to the wood would be hard to find. A long meadow slopes steeply
to the Thames, with an old church and the remains of a manor house at one
end and the wood at the other. Below the house is a roaring weir, and
opposite the abbey of Dorchester across the flats. Our little campaign
gave an added interest to the scene. The bulk of the men were going round
behind the hills to drive these "kopjes" into the wood. The guns and one
or two ladies, and some small boys bearing burdens were walking up the
middle ride. Below was the silver Thames in best autumn livery, for the
leaf was not yet off the willows, though the reed-beds were bright russet.
The sky was blue, the sun bright, and the sound of the weir came gaily up
through the trees. All the wood-paths were bright with moss, the air
still, and an endless shower of leaves from the oaks was falling over the
whole hundred acres. There were just enough wild pheasants in the wood to
make a variety in the rabbit-shooting. Hares were unexpectedly numerous,
and we lined up on the side of the wood furthest from the river for a hare
drive. The whole hillside is without a hedge. Watching the long slope it
is a pretty and exciting sport to see the coveys of partridges, of which
there are sometimes a number on the hill, rise, fly down and pitch again,
and then rise once more and come fifty miles an hour over your head into
the wood.

The hares are generally very wild, getting up while the folds of the
ground are still between them and the beaters. As they seldom come
straight into the wood it is amusing to guess which particular gun they
will make for. Most of them slipped in at a safe distance, only to be