6, 
 
TUFTS UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES 
 
 3 9090 014 554 527 
 
 Webster Family Library of Veterinary Medicine 
 
 Cummings School of Veterinary Medicine at 
 
 Tufts University 
 
 200 Westboro Road 
 
 North Grafton, MA 01536 
 
MR. MEYNELL S HOUNDS CROSSING THE SOAR, 
 February 24th, 1800. 
 
 Mr. Musters. jack Raven. 
 
 Lord George Germaine. Mr. Loraine Smith. 
 
 Photogriij[>Jied, by feriuissiov 0/ Mr. Rollestoii, from an old priut. 
 
BOOK 
 
 HUNTING SONGS 
 
 SPORT 
 
 COLLECTED BY 
 
 MRS. CHAWORTH MUSTERS, 
 
 AND DEDICATED TO 
 
 THE RIGHT HON. EARL FERRERS, 
 
 iS8=5. 
 

 NOTTINGHAM : 
 PRINTED BY R. ALLEN AND SON, LIMITED, CAXTON HOUSE. 
 
RIGHT HON. EA.RL FERRERS, M.F.H., 
 
 In Remembraxce of 
 
 A FRIENDSHIP OF MANY YEARS, 
 
 AND OF 
 
 " The Mirth, and the Adventure, and the Sport 
 that we have shared." 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 A Hunting Song 
 
 January 13th, 1874 
 
 " Sende hym along " .. 
 
 Quorn Hounds, 1867 
 
 Elegy on the Death of Honest Ball 
 
 The Forsten Hunt 
 
 Letter 
 
 The 19th January, 1793 
 
 The 22nd March, 1793 
 
 Wednesday, February 9th, 1881 
 
 Reminiscences of the Shows of Foxhounds at Osbert jn, abuu 
 
 The Hur worth Fox Chase .. 
 
 The Bedale Hounds in 183S 
 
 The Prophet in his own Country ; or, Dufty in Derbyshire . 
 
 An exact Account of the Fox Chase on ye znd of December, 
 
 A Run with the " West of Fife " 
 
 Lord Gardner 
 
 Hazleford Ferry .. 
 
 The Eufford Hounds . . 
 
 The Glory of Motion 
 
 " Formosissimus Annus " •• .. 
 
 How we beat the Favourite 
 
 Notes from Will Stansby's Diary at Badminton, 1843 . . 
 
 A Legend of Galway 
 
 The Lover's Leap 
 
 The Charlton Hunt 
 
 Hunting Song for the year 1824 . . 
 
 A Run with the S. O. 
 
 The Old Hound 
 
 The days when I rode with the Quorn 
 
 t 1825 
 
 745 
 
A Fragment 
 
 Thoughts on Hunting 
 
 The Hill's Wood Run with the Berkeley Hounds 
 
 On the Death of the Fox at Gopsall, 1868 
 
 The Stable Boy 
 
 "My Old Horn" 
 
 " Rouse, boys, rouse " 
 
 On the Death of Capt. Berkeley's Horse 
 
 The Foremost Flight 
 
 Patrick's Bear Slaying : a Parody 
 
 In Memoriam 
 
 A Day with the Queen's Hounds 
 
 Hunting in Durham .. 
 
 The Lambton Hounds 
 
 A few good Runs with Frank Gillard, 1871 to 1878 
 
 A Season's Sport with the Quorn 
 
 The Gallant Little Grey 
 
 Col. Thomson's best Run with the Atherstone, 1849 
 
 The Charndon Run with the Bicester 
 
 The Waterloo Run with the Pytchley, Feb. 2nd, 1866 
 
 The Lundin Run with the Fife Hounds, November 30th, 1877 
 
 Hunting Song of Mr. Meynell's time, about 1790 
 
 A Legend of the Quorn Countrie 
 
 Hunting Song of Sir Harry Goodricke's time 
 
 Billesdon Coplow, Feb. 24th, 1800 
 
 Memoir of the Mastership of the Fifth Duke of Buccleuch . . 
 
 In Memoriam: George Whyte-Melville 
 
 Extract from " Baily," 1871 
 
 To Nicolas 
 
 My Old Horn .. 
 
 A List of Masters of the Quorn . , 
 
 Run with Lord Ferrers* Hounds 
 
 Run with the Duke of Rutland's Hounds .. 
 
 Run with Mr. Jarvis's Hounds 
 
 Run with Lord Galway's Hounds 
 
 Letter from Mr. Raynes, of Bawtry .» 
 
 Run with the South Notts. Hounds •• 
 
 TAGE 
 79 
 
 79 
 8S 
 87 
 89 
 90 
 91 
 93 
 96 
 
 99 
 
 lOI 
 
 104 
 107 
 108 
 no 
 
 117 
 
 131 
 132 
 133 
 
 138 
 
 1 48 
 
 150 
 157 
 
 160 
 
 '63 
 172 
 174 
 
 ^7S 
 
 183 
 184 
 186 
 194 
 196 
 199 
 
 ZOI 
 202 
 ZO4 
 
" We were much pleased lately with the snuggery of a 
 great ex-huntsman, where we turned in for a couple of 
 hours to chat of old times. Among the prints was a 
 very characteristic one of old Meynell, sitting in his 
 study-chair and pigtail, and giving orders to Jack Eaven, 
 who stands with a comfortable little corporation at the 
 door. Jack appears in the well-known Billesdon 
 picture on Loadstone, opening the gate with his whip ; 
 but the old horse wants no more, and resolutely puts 
 his foot in the gate, while Mr. Lorraine Smith is wading 
 with his coat, like an old woman's petticoats, in his 
 hand. The drawing is bad, but the song which illus- 
 trates it is so scarce, and those few who possess it seem 
 to have it only in MS., that we reprint it here, simply 
 premising that there are one or two names of which 
 there may be a different reading." 
 
 A HUNTING SONG. 
 
 Tune — " Deert Down." 
 
 Was there ever such work ? as our leaders oft say 
 Was there ever yet seen such a glorious day ? 
 Not Meynell himself, the king of all men, 
 Ever saw such a chase, or will see such again. 
 
 Derrv Down. 
 
Billesdon Coplow 's the place where the contest began, 
 And away from the covert bold Eeynard soon ran : 
 Two hours and a quarter, 1 think, was the time — 
 It was beautifully great, nay indeed 'twas sublime. 
 
 Derry Down. 
 
 At Skeffington earths the villain did try, 
 Then, making all speed, to Tilton Wood did he fly : 
 By Skeffington Town he soon after came back, 
 And at Tugby was near being caught by the pack. 
 
 Derry Down. 
 
 Then passing by Stretton to Wigstone he went. 
 And at Ailstone we thought that the rogue must be spent ; 
 But for crossing the river he found a good place, 
 And, changing at Enderby, finished the chase. 
 
 Derry Down. 
 
 Scotch, Welsh, Irish, and English, together set out, 
 A nd each thought his horse than his neighbour's more stout. 
 You must judge by the nags which were in at the end 
 Which riders to judge and which to commend. 
 
 Derry Down. 
 
 Lorraine and Lord Maynard were there, and could tell 
 Who in justice's scale held the balance so well, 
 As very good judges and justices too. 
 The state of each horse, and what each man could do. 
 
 Derry Down. 
 
 But if anyone thinks he is grieved in the song, 
 And fancies his case stated legally wrong, 
 To Enderby Hall let him go and complain. 
 But he won't mend his cause if he meets with Lorraine. 
 
 Derry Down. 
 
Germaine, the most gallant, was first at tlie river ; 
 Like a spaniel dashed in — how he made our hearts quiver ! 
 And as Albion, as bold, he gave M ellon a pull, 
 And beat thro' the stream like Europa's famed bull. 
 
 Derry Down. 
 
 Jack Musters, delighted at this bright example, 
 Close on the dun's heels in the water did trample. 
 He held by the tail, and got safe to the bank, 
 Though the water ran over the grey horse's flank. 
 
 Derry Down. 
 
 Cox stood on the brink, and would fain have gone arter, 
 But the hydrophobia made him turn at the water; 
 So he scrambled away as fast as he could, 
 And got up with the hounds at Enderby Wood. 
 
 Derry Down. 
 
 "We have not much to say of Morpath and Shelley, 
 They at Skeffington stopped, I suppose, for a jelly. 
 It is true they ride hard, and are said to be keen, 
 But yet in this run they never were seen. 
 
 Derry Down. 
 
 "What came of Bob Grosvenor no poet can tell ; 
 Not long with the pack did the gay bishop dwell ; 
 He met brother South, and 'twas said by the people, 
 That the parsons were perched up on Skefiington steeple. 
 
 Derry Down. 
 
 There they sat quite contented, like parson and clerk, 
 And talked over things until very near dark. 
 Till the bishop began to take fright at the weather. 
 And their nags being fresh they reached Melton together. 
 
 Derry Down. 
 
As 'twas late in the day the gallant Lord Craven, 
 rinding matters grow serious, kept his eye on Jack Eaven 
 But the old Eaven croaked when his horse was near done. 
 So he changed with Ben Rowland and finished the run. 
 
 Derry Down. 
 
 In this state of distress my Lord Maddock saw, 
 Who just in his nag had discovered a flaw ; 
 Together they joined, and took leave of the pack ; 
 Maddock trudged home, but the peer got a hack. 
 
 Lerry Down. 
 
 Of Bobby Montgomery, Messrs. Waddle and Cuft', 
 As they say they can ride, I would fain say enough : 
 Their riding displayed a spread eagle complete, 
 And to those who were near must have proved a great 
 treat. Derry Down. 
 
 Charles Meynell got in, but how he got there 
 No sportsman could tell, for he made them all stare. 
 We heard that the waggon had just passed the road — 
 Why did not the waggoner stop with his load ? 
 
 Derry Down. 
 
 Of Joey Pantigious, 'tis said in a burst 
 He finds it quite easy being second or first. 
 We'd a chase on the pike, and he drove in his gig ; 
 I then bet two to one on the little Pound Pij?. 
 
 Derry Down. 
 
 Of a mighty great king, how it lowered his pride 
 To be walking on foot when his subjects did ride ; 
 Though they passed by in numbers to no one he spoke. 
 But like Charley the Second got up in the oak. 
 
 Derry Down. 
 
Tho' late in the song, yet perish the thought 
 That our gallant friend Villiers should e'er be forgot ; 
 Some disaster, I fancy, his lordship befell, 
 As he did not get in, tho' he rides very well. 
 
 J)erry Down. 
 
 Lord Charles rode on Marquis, so famed for his blood. 
 And shared in all dangers except in the flood. 
 Charles Ellis came up, but he got a fresh horse. 
 And we saw by the change that he was not the worse. 
 
 Derry Down. 
 
 By the bye, I forgot to name Lawley of Quorn, 
 Tho' forward at first lamed his horse with a thorn ; 
 And losing a shoe is sometimes the reason 
 "Why a gentleman's beat at the end of the season. 
 
 Derry Down. 
 
 Tom Smith in the contest maintained a good place. 
 And tho' not first, at last made a famous good race. 
 I'm sure he'd no cause for his horse to abuse. 
 And I wish he'd persuade him to keep on his shoes. 
 
 Derry Down. 
 
 Mr. Saville and Nat dropped in at the end — 
 Which the best of the nags I cannot contend ; 
 For tho' they breathe high they are still full of fire. 
 For he says they're so stout that they never do tire. 
 
 Derry Down. 
 
 I think now I've bored you enough wdth the chase. 
 And like Meynell's hounds I have run a good race ; 
 Then a bumper, my boys, to Meynell we'll fill. 
 And to those that ride hard may they never stand still. 
 
 Derry Down. 
 
 Written by Me. Bethell Cox, from the 
 Sporting Magazine^ 1856. 
 For notes to most of the heroes of this 'po em, see ^'BiUesdon Coplow.''^ 
 
JaNIJAET loTH, 1874. 
 
 The old Hurworth foxhounds met at Croft Bridge 
 this morning, under the mastership of Lord Castlereagh, 
 who was prevented being present in consequence of a 
 death in the family. 
 
 Drew the Willow Garths and the Skerne Banks up 
 to Blackwell Hall, when a beautiful chesnut coloured 
 fox broke away from under the old hollies and laurels 
 in front of the hall. The fox then crossed the Great 
 North Eoad, near what used to be the Angel Inn, and 
 continued along the banks of the river Skerne till he 
 came opposite Black Banks earths, when he crossed 
 over, the horsemen having to go round to a bridge 
 near Croft. He then ran past Kound Hill and Hur- 
 worth Moor Farms, leaving Fighting Cocks covert to 
 the right, crossing the Darlington and Stoclvton railway, 
 near an old dram, in which many a good fox has taken 
 refuge in former runs. And here George Dodds, the 
 huntsman, showed the greatest energy in getting the 
 hounds stopped, in consequence of a long mineral train 
 running up the line, the driver taking no notice of 
 signs to slacken. However, no harm was done, and the 
 hounds picked the scent up quickly on the other side of 
 the railway, and away to Little Burdon, where he was 
 viewed in a field adjoining the earths. On he went to 
 Great Burdon, crossed the Skerne to Wimbush, leaving 
 Barmpton to the right ; he then re-crossed the Skerne, 
 and, after running along the banks, crossed it again 
 near Little Ketton, where he was viewed again on the 
 Barmpton side into a small plantation, some of the field 
 having to go round to a bridge near Ketton Hall, others 
 having got over the Skerne at Barmpton. However, we all 
 got together again near Newton Ketton. Hounds at 
 check, in consequence of coming across some greyhounds 
 
coursing here. They picked the scent up again, and on 
 to Great Stainton with a rattle, turned towards Stelling- 
 ton, then to the left to Elstob Hall, and crossed the 
 Hartlepool railway to Bog Hall ; he then took a road 
 for about a mile to Morden Moor, crossed in front of 
 Sands Hall, and on to Sedgefield station, where he 
 crossed the railway, ran for two or three fields and re- 
 crossed the railway back to Morden, and then to Bog 
 Hall covert ; never went in, but turned again to the 
 north, and after viewing him for a few minutes the 
 hounds ran into him at Brechon Hill farm. Time, 
 3 hours and 5 minutes. From point to point, 12 miles ; 
 as the fox ran, about 22. There were five checks, the 
 longest near Newton Ketton, and another when he 
 turned from Stellington towards Elstob, where there is 
 a fox earth, but he never went near it. In at the finish 
 were a friend of Lord Castlereagh's on a chesnut horse, 
 W. O. Elliot, M.P., T. Wilkinson, E. L. Ward, C. 
 Backhouse, A. Park, J. W. Smith, J. Brown, George 
 Dodds the huntsman, a whip, and a servant. 
 
 Written by Eev. J. "W. Smith, 
 
 Rector of Dinsdale. 
 
 "SENDE HYM ALONG; 
 
 OR, 
 
 Ye counsatle of olde Eobert to Matstee Henrie, 
 
 TE SONNE TO SqUYER NyMEOOD." 
 
 " Come, tell me, old Eobert — you can if you will — 
 How to go to the fore with the best of the throng ; 
 
 I can sit on Bay Jerry, don't care for a spill. 
 
 And I just want to know how to send him along. 
 
" Aye, aye, Mayster Harrie, I'll tell you with glee — 
 
 For I'm right glad to see to th' old stock you belong ; 
 So now for a moment just listen to me. 
 And you sha'nt be the last as you send him along. 
 
 " Be in time — then drop down to the covert's lee side ; 
 
 Throw away your cigar, leave the jest and the song ; 
 Creep in and keep quiet in some likely ride ; 
 
 Sit still — but be ready to send him along. 
 
 " Watch closely the hounds as they carefully draw — 
 Mark the note of the true one that now throws his 
 tongue ; 
 
 Ears attend for the holloa — ' away, gone away ! ' — 
 Then down like a lightning flash send him along. 
 
 " He's away, he's away, and you're well away, too ; 
 
 You've got a good start, and there's nothing gone wrong ; 
 The pack's all before you, all mad for a view — 
 
 Up, up in your stirrups, and send him along. 
 
 " You're well over some big 'uns, and in the first flight ; 
 
 Never heed those that follow, pell mell and ding dong ; 
 Never look to the left, never look to the right, 
 
 But keep your eyes for'ard and send him along. 
 
 '* The country gets closer, the brooks deep and wide, 
 And some timber it looks most uncomfortably strong ; 
 
 But the low viewing nag will take each in his stride 
 As you sit down upon him and send him along. 
 
 " Near an hour you've been at him, the pace 'gins to tell, 
 And tails they are shaking like tails in Hong Kong ; 
 
 So look to your hand, and your head, too, as well, 
 As you sit close and nurse him, yet send him along. 
 
•' He's now sinking fast — they are close at his brush — 
 ' Whoo-oop ! ' they have got him ; one crack from your 
 ^ thong, 
 
 Then jump off — get away from the wrangling rush, 
 
 And thank Eobert, who taught you to send him along." 
 
 Written by the late Ret. H. 0. Coxe, 
 
 Librarian of the Bodleian. 
 
 QUOEN HOUNDS, 1867. 
 
 Tune — " Who can tell," 
 
 When \^ill the *Marquis come ? Who can tell ? 
 
 Half-past twelve or half-past one ? Who can tell ? 
 
 Is he sober, is he drunk ? Nipping "like Mjn heer von 
 
 Dunk? 
 Will he ride or will he funk ? Who can tell ? 
 
 Shall we have to wait again ? Who can tell ? 
 In the wind and in the rain ? Who can tell ? 
 While the Marquis, snug and warm, in the hall where 
 
 toadies swarm, 
 Leaves us to the pelting storm ? Who can tell ? 
 
 Where'll he draw by way of luck ? Who can tell ? 
 Gartree hill, or Bradgate Park ? Who can tell ? 
 Sport regarding as a jest, which will suit his fancy best — 
 North or south, or east or west? Who can tell? 
 
 Harry, last Marquis of Hastings, died iS 
 
10 
 
 Where, oh where, rings G-oodaH'sf horn ? Who can tell ? 
 Whj came I with this cursed Quorn ? Who can tell ? 
 Marquis, this is not a race ; Can you look us in the face, 
 And declare you love the chase ? Who can tell ? 
 
 ELEGY ON THE DEATH OE HONEST BALL. 
 
 Scene — The Close next the Eoad at Aston. 
 
 'Twas on a verdant pasture's side, 
 Thro' which the tinkling riv'lets glide, 
 
 And sportful lambkins play ; 
 Where ever steady faithful Ball, 
 Obedient to his master's call, 
 
 His time had grazed away. 
 
 When lo ! a huntsman's voice was heard. 
 His head old Ball in transport reared, 
 
 He hailed each choral hound ; 
 The conscious snort his pride declared, 
 In ev'ry neigh his joy appeared — 
 
 He spurned the trembling ground. 
 
 Of fond ideas what a train, 
 
 Of blissful pleasures \vhat a chain, 
 
 Then sprung into his heart ! 
 All rapture will abound, says he, 
 To my good master and to me, 
 
 That hunting can impart. 
 
 t Mr. Tailby's huntsman. 
 
11 
 
 He mused, and musing called to mind 
 Each end- way chase with stag and hind,* 
 
 And eke with wily fox. 
 Eeflection echoed back the tale f 
 Of every hill and every dale, 
 
 01 woods, and crags, and rocks. 
 
 Still had he mus'd, but cross his thought, 
 "With worth intrinsically wrought, 
 
 Stept forth a Mundy's name ! 
 Till now Ball never knew the laws, 
 Nor the criterion, nor the cause 
 
 Of modern hunter's fame. 
 
 He starts, displeas'd with bootless lore, 
 AVhich Burdett us'd in days of yore. 
 
 Displeasure makes him rave ! 
 Ye gods, says he, what time I've spent. 
 And never knew what hunting meant 
 
 Till one foot's in the grave ! 
 
 Again he cools ; the gods implores, 
 That e'er he reach the Stygian shores 
 
 One good day's sport be given. 
 He vows a day to Ticknall gorse 
 Will make him happier than the horse 
 
 Which Mah'mett rode to heaven. 
 
 * Alluding to divers chases, in which Ball attended Mr. Shutlleworth's 
 deer hounds. 
 
 •t Alluding to a famous chase with Sir Robert's old foxhounds from 
 Gorsty Leas quite away to Anchor-Church Rocks. 
 
12 
 
 He spoke, when, bursting from a cloud, 
 A phantom in a silver shroud 
 
 Forewarned him of his end. 
 It cried out, ' Ball, thou'rt quite undone, 
 And, as thy loving master's gone, 
 
 A fav'rite has no friend.' 
 
 Ah ! presage sad, 'twas but too true — 
 For see, the ruthless Jack's in view — 
 
 Behold his bloody knife ! 
 The fatal sisters gave the word, 
 Which Jack observ'd with fell accord, 
 
 And clos'd the Book of Life. 
 
 Ungrateful man ! is this the need 
 That's due to each old gen'rous steed 
 
 For ev'ry kind relief? 
 Was it for this that heaven gave 
 Each brute to thee to be thy slave 
 
 When thou'rt of brutes the chief.t 
 
 + I owe this curious old poem to the kindness of Mr. Rolleston, of 
 Watnall. who found it among some family papers. The individuals mentioned 
 in it I take to have been Sir Robf.rt Burdett, of Foremark, who died in 
 1797 ; Francis Noel Clarke Mundt, Esq., of Markeaton, who married Sir 
 Robert's daughter, Elizabeth, and kept a pack of hounds in Derbyshire within 
 the memory of persons still living; and James Shuttlhworth, EsQ.,of Gaw- 
 thorp, M.P., who married Mary, the daughter and heiress of Robert Holden, 
 Esq., of Aston, the scene of the song. I should imagine "honest Ball" to have 
 been the property of the Rev. John Rolleston, who was for forty years Rector of 
 Aston, and married Dorothy, the youngest daughter of Sir Robert Burdett, 
 and died 1770. 
 
13 
 
 THE FOESTEN HUNT. 
 
 Ax IMITATION OE PAEODT OF AN IeISH HUNTING SoNG, 
 ADAPTED AT EoESTEN, IN THE YEAE 1761. 
 
 Hark, hark, jolly sportsmen, awhile to my tale, 
 To pay your attention I'm sure you can't fail ; 
 'Tis of dogs, and of horses, and lads who ne'er tire 
 O'er downs or o'er heaths, thro' furze, brakes, or mire. 
 A pack of such hounds, and a set of such men, 
 'Tis shrewd chance if ever you hear of again. 
 Had Nimrod, that mightiest of hunters, been there, 
 Egad ! he'd have shook like an aspen for fear. 
 
 In seventeen hundred and sixty one, 
 
 The month of December was scarcely begun ; 
 
 At eight in the morning by most of the clocks 
 
 We set out from Eorsten in search of a fox. 
 
 Jack Trenchard and Simnes, that parson in grey. 
 
 And Furber, the farmer, were with us that day, 
 
 ^ Jack Fane and tNed Phelips, those hunters so stout, 
 
 Blair, Jones, and Tom Meggs, and so we set out. 
 
 We cast off our hounds for an hour or more, 
 
 When Piper set up a most tuneable roar. 
 
 " Hark to Piper," cries Scott ; the rest were not slack. 
 
 For Piper's no babbler esteemed by the pack. 
 
 Old Miller and Polly came merrily in. 
 
 And all the hounds joined in the musical din ; 
 
 Had Diana been there she'd been pleased to the life, 
 
 And one of the lads got a goddess for wife. 
 
 • Jack Fane, afterwards gth Earl of Westmoreland, 
 t Ned Phelips. — Edward Phelips, Esq., of Montacute. 
 
u 
 
 Ten minutes past ten was the time of the day 
 When Reynard unkennelled, and this was the way : 
 From G-range to Mount Silver and Clenger he past, 
 Thro' Hawkham and Hackham to Kingrose at last ; 
 O'er the hill to Fair Mile and Puddle's smooth down — 
 In Wootton's strong brake the caytiff did run ; 
 The turnpike he crossed, leapt Lord Ilehester's wall, 
 And seemed to say, " Little I value you all." 
 
 Then close by Will Pitt's to Gallam he runs, 
 
 Blair, Jones, and Tom Meggs kept leading by turns ; 
 
 The earths were all open, yet he was so stout, 
 
 Tho' he might have got in, yet he chose to keep out. 
 
 To Elsington wood like a bullet he flew — 
 
 At Tinkleton parish we had him in view ; 
 
 To Frampton's bog next, o'er heaths wild and dreary. 
 
 Where Meggs and the parson and Trenchard grew weary. 
 
 Then away to the cliffs like an arrow he past, 
 And came near the Castle of Lulworth at last, 
 Where he valiantly plunged himself into the sea, 
 And said in his heart, " Who dares follow me?" 
 But soon to his cost he perceived that no bounds 
 Could stop the pursuit of the staunch mettled hounds. 
 His policy here did not serve him a rush — 
 Five couple of tartars were close at his brush. 
 
 To recover the shore again was his drift. 
 
 But, e'er he could get to the top of the clift, 
 
 He found both of strength and of cunning a lack — 
 
 Killed, worried, and torn by the rest of the pack. 
 
 At his death there were present the lads whom I've sung. 
 
 Save poor Jacky Trenchard, whom Badger had flung, 
 
 And thus we concluded this delicate chase, 
 
 Which lasted three hours and ten minutes' space. 
 
15 
 
 At eve we returned home to Forsten again. 
 Where dwells hospitality, truth, and Jack Fane. 
 We talked o'er the chase, and we toasted the health 
 Of the man who ne'er varies for places or wealth. 
 " Charles Blair* baulked a leap," says Phelips ; " 'twas 
 
 odd;" 
 " 'Twas shameful," cried Jones, " by the great living God." 
 Says Meggs, "I halJooed, get on, tho' you fall. 
 Or I'll leap over you, your blind stone horse and all." 
 
 To the drawing room next, for Augusta,! the fair, 
 
 And VVoodford, the merriest of damsels, were there ; 
 
 Ned Phelips' sister, Maria, his wife, 
 
 And the girl Ben Simnes had just taken for life. 
 
 No scandal or folly their converse dispense. 
 
 But wit with good humour, and mirth with good sense. 
 
 As Pallas and Dian the hunters befriend, 
 
 The muses and graces these ladies attend. 
 
 Our evening, devoted to freedom and sport, 
 All party affairs we consigned to the court. 
 The ladies, the fairest Britannia can boast. 
 Were each in their turn proclaimed as a toast ; 
 And thus we concluded the day and the night 
 Jn jollity, sport, and in social delight. 
 And as Phoebus befriended our earlier roam, 
 80 Luna took care to conduct us safe home, t 
 
 •Charles Blair afterwards married Lady Mary Fane, and, with "Jones," 
 was guardian to John, loth Earl of Westmoreland. 
 
 t Mrs. John Fane, daughter of Lord Albemarle Bertie. 
 
 tForsten, "where dwelt hospitality, truth, and Jack Fane," is three 
 miles north of Dorchester. From Grange Wood, where they "unkennelled" 
 their fox, to Lulworth Shore, where they killed him, is twenty and a half miles, 
 as the crow flies. 
 
16 
 
 DeAE MeS. MuSTEIiS, 
 
 I am no hand at writing a run, but can give you 
 the following particulars of the one you mention. The 
 date was Monday, January 28th, 1878. The Blankney 
 hounds met at the 7th milestone, Newark road. We 
 found directly in Tunman's Wood, and came away over 
 the Newark and Lincoln road, ran past Haddington to 
 Hykeham plantation, which we left a field to the left, 
 and on past South Hykeham, over the line close to Wad- 
 dington station, and up the hill into Waddington 
 village. Here all the rest of the field got some wrong 
 information, and lost the hounds, and I had them all to 
 myself over the heath past Giles' Grorse to Branston, 
 where we had a check, and Harry Dawkins, the hunts- 
 man, and the first whip, who had ridden by my tracks 
 over the heath, caught me up. We went straight on 
 through the Park at Long Hills, past the end of Potter- 
 hanworth wood ; but our fox was headed a field ofi" the 
 wood, and turned to his left and got to ground in a 
 rabbit hole in a small plantation, called Curtis', about a 
 mile further on. Only Harry Dawkins, the first whip, 
 and myself, were with the hounds when they stopt. 
 Mr. Cooke, a. farmer from Scarle, came up afterwards, 
 and Ave never saw anybody else. It is an eleven mile 
 point, and was all down wind, and was the straightest run 
 I ever saw ; none of it very fast, bub a good holding 
 pace. The fox never touched a covert from find to 
 finish. 
 
 Edwaed H. Nevile. 
 
17 
 
 The 19th January, 1793. 
 
 Mb. Metnell's hounds met at Alsop's house (near 
 Wymeswold), and found in the old cover; went away by 
 Mr. Gooden's cover to Hell Hole, over part of Grotham 
 Moor, over Leak Hills and Field, by Wysall, Keyworth, 
 Kinoulton, Hickling, by Nether Broughton, Holwell, 
 Scalford, to Goadby Park, and killed. 
 
 The hounds ran very hard for two hours and a half, 
 all the horses being tired except Mr. Deverill's grey 
 mare, Gaylass. 
 
 The 22nd of Maech, 1793. 
 
 Me. Metnell's hounds met at Whitehorse Wood. 
 Found in .Bardon Hill; came away over the Eocks, 
 Gracedieu Park, Oakley "Wood, Donington Park, and 
 run to ground at Gorsty Leas. (This is a ten mile 
 point, and most unusual line.) 
 
 From the diary o£ J. Jones, Mr. Meynell's 
 whipper-in. 
 
 "Wednesday, Febeuaey 9th, 1881. 
 
 The snow, and frost, and fog were gone, 
 And *' cheerly smiled the morn ;" 
 
 And many a sportsman's heart beat high 
 To hear the well-known horn. 
 
18 
 
 To the Magna Charta, Lowdham, 
 From far and near they come ; 
 
 Some kindred souls from Derbyshire — 
 Across the river, some. 
 
 Then, as the phalanx moved along 
 
 The road to Bleasby Gorse, 
 With a watchful eye I scanned them, 
 
 Ev'ry man and ev'ry horse. 
 
 Like a lovely chequered ribbon 
 
 The little pack advance ; 
 Fresh as paint, and bright as satin, 
 
 They long to lead the dance. 
 
 First comes Rolleston (r) upon Eocket, 
 With a thoughtful huntsman's air ; 
 
 Taking counsel with George Shepherd, (2) 
 Neat and jaunty as his mare. 
 
 Next, noblemen in scarlet coats, 
 
 A nd gentlemen in black, 
 And ladies fair, and riders rare, 
 
 And Lielly (3) on a hack. 
 
 But Bleasby holds no customer — 
 They cheer and " haicks " in vain. 
 
 While we sit cooling visibly, 
 Predictino: it will rain. 
 
 1. Lancelot RoUeston, Esq., master and huntsman of the South Notts, 
 hounds from 1876 to 1882. 
 
 2. George (really German) Shepherd, first whip and kennel huntsman 
 to Mr. Musters, Mr. Rolleston, and Lord Harrington successively, and 
 deservedly respected by all in the South Notts, country. 
 
 3. John Liell Francklin, Esq., of Gonalston, late M. F. H. 
 
19 
 
 Halloughton "Wood — " but shall we find here ?" 
 
 Some say doubtfully and low. 
 Hark ! that piercing scream is George's — 
 
 Now then, Talent, you may go. 
 
 How they race to get a start — see, 
 
 Straight a^ the fox they ride ! 
 And thrust and sputter in the ploughs 
 
 That skirt the Dumble side. 
 
 Up to Bleasby, out towards Morton, 
 Then round through Southwell parks, 
 
 "Where o er a gate Lord Petersham (4) 
 Had one of his old larks. 
 
 And FDlingham, (5) that crafty man, 
 
 Here jumped a fence with glee ; 
 And Howett (6) still, thro' good and ill, 
 
 Is riding wild and free. 
 
 The doughty Daft (7) is here o'erthrown, 
 
 Not by Australian ball ; 
 But always quick on greensward, 
 
 Hurries Peter to a fall. 
 
 The master's down and up again, 
 
 And Rocket's pulling still ; 
 And Henry Smith (8) is close behind. 
 
 Sinking the Halam Hill. 
 
 4. The present Earl of Harrington, born 1844. Now hunting the South 
 Notts, country, 1883. 
 
 5. George Fillingham, Esq., of Syerston, a well-known and thorough 
 sportsman. 
 
 6. Mr. Robert Howett. of Woodborough, a great promoter of hunting. 
 
 7. Mr. Daft, of Radclifife, the celebrated cricketer. 
 
 8. Henry Smith, Junr., of the Grove, Cropwell Butler, a keen and 
 hereditary sportsman. 
 
20 
 
 But when the hounds swing left again, 
 
 And past the Ash-Holts race, 
 And circle right round Halloughton Wood, 
 
 What tells at last is pace. 
 
 Tor oh ! that eager morning field, 
 
 So gallant and so gay. 
 Now hounds seem running for their fox, 
 
 Behold their sad array : 
 
 They scarce can trot, and far less jump — 
 
 The prudent now go home, 
 Never thinking that the best fun 
 
 Is only yet to come. 
 
 But who is here so full of cheer — 
 
 A fresh horse full of ride ? 
 Squire Sherbrooke, (9) who has nicked them, 
 
 Running the Dumble side. 
 
 Por an hour and forty minutes 
 
 They have hunted through the plough — 
 See, the fox lies down before them ! 
 
 They surely have him now. 
 
 Not a bit ; for over Halam, 
 
 On towards Edingley they stream ; 
 
 Onward, onward over Hexgrave — 
 'Tis a run we sometimes dream. 
 
 Now they're checking, we thank goodness. 
 As we reach the welcome sand ; 
 
 Gallant Eolt (lo) has had a crumpler; 
 Oxton's Squire embraced the land. 
 
 9. Henry Sherbrooke, Esq., of Oxton, who had been attending the 
 Rufiord Hunt meeting at Ollerton ; and on his return, coming out to look for 
 the hounds, by the greatest good luck fell in with them at this point. 
 
 10. Captain Rolt, a writer in the sporting papers. 
 
91 
 
 They've hit it off through Inkersall, 
 
 Culloden's looming near ; 
 Sporting Skelton, (n) thrusting Meeson, 
 
 Look grave when they get here. 
 
 Pittance Park they now are skirting, 
 Where our fox finds many a friend ; 
 
 Like the Coplow run of history, 
 Without a kill we end. 
 
 Two of Thoresby's worthy scions, (12) 
 Two of Derby's sportsmen true, (13) 
 
 One descendant (14) of Jack Musters 
 Saw this fine run fairly through. 
 
 Prancklin, Charlton, (15) Mills, {16) and Hibbert, (17) 
 
 Who besides must others say, 
 Por I long had been defeated 
 
 On my little mare so gay. 
 
 Eleven miles from point to point, 
 
 Pull thirty all they ran ; 
 Let us drink their healths this evening — 
 
 Pox and hound, and horse, and man. (i8j 
 
 L. C. MUSTKES. 
 
 11. Mr. Skelton, the steeplechase rider, and Mr. Meeson, a friend of 
 Mr. Howett. 
 
 12. Lord Newark and his brother, Hon. Henry Pierrepont, who died the 
 following year. 
 
 13. Lord Petersham and Mr. Palmer, of Stanton. 
 74. Miss Catherine Chaworth Musters. 
 
 15. Nicolas Charlton, Esq., of Chilwell. 
 
 16. Mr. Mills, of Burton Joyce. 
 
 17. Mr. Hibbert, of Nottingham, 
 
 18. From Bleasby Gorse, the furthest point to the south, to Culloden 
 plantation, near Rufford, eleven miles. 
 
22 
 
 EEMINISCENCES OF THE SHOWS OF 
 FOXHOUNDS AT OSBERTOIST, 
 
 ABOUT 1825. 
 
 Oh Charley,* from Betley, how dare you appear 
 With your Staffordshire turnspits in Nottinghamshire, 
 And before the fine judgment of Lambton to bring 
 A son of your Joker — some poor wretched thing — 
 Against Pipers and Nestors to bear off a prize. 
 Oh Charley ! hold hard, lest a thought should arise, 
 That hunting in coal pits has blinded your eyes. 
 The praises of Joker you've trumpeted forth 
 O'er London's grand city and far thro' the north, 
 Till you've cheated yourself into thinking, alas ! 
 That a trumpet of silver you'd gain for your brass ; 
 Or if broadcloth has tempted you hither to come, 
 How dismal the prospect next winter at home : 
 No saddle to shield you, no cloth will you win, 
 And Joker will prove a bad jest for your skin. 
 
 E. HODSOF. 
 
 This was a letter from Mr. Hodson to Mr. Wick- 
 sted before Mr. Foljambe's hound show, at which Mr. 
 Wicksted's hound, Joker, took the prize of a horn for 
 the master and a saddle and broadcloth for coats for 
 the men. 
 
 * Charles Wicksted, Esq., of Betley, born 1796 ; also mentioned in "The 
 Woore Country," which he hunted. He afterwards kept a most beautiful 
 pack of harriers, a few of which his son, the present George Wicksted, brought 
 to Oxford, and with them established the Christchurch harriers. Mr. Wick- 
 sted died in 1870. His second son and namesake is the present master of the 
 Ludlow hounds, and to him I am indebted for these amusing epistles. 
 
93 
 
 Me. Wicksted's Eeplt. 
 
 Oh Nestor ! to joke thus how can you begin ? 
 Forgetting the proverb, " let those laugh who win." 
 Tour trencher-fed puppies won't win you one prize — 
 Saddle, broadcloth, or trumpet, to gladden your eyes. 
 Ere old Wells's coat shall be shorn of its skirts 
 Both you and Will Danby shall work in your shirts ; 
 Tor no Holderness tailor shall measure a stitch 
 Of the broadcloth that's won by Holderness bitch. 
 Ton must use your old saddles and break your old reins 
 With pulling old screws thro' the Holderness drains. 
 Of the silver-tongued trumpet depend on't no hound 
 On the far side of Humber will e'er hear a sound. 
 So from joking forbear — it will prove a wrong cast — 
 For you're sure to be beat by a Joker at last. 
 
 THE HFEWORTH FOX CHASE : 
 
 A BALLAD, WRITTEN Olf THE OCCASION OF A MOST 
 
 EEMARKABLE EUN WITH Mr. ChAELES TuRNEE's 
 
 HOUNDS ON THE IST DAY OF SePT., 1775. 
 
 Attend, jolly sportsmen, I'll sing you a song, 
 Which cannot fail pleasing the old and the young. 
 I'll sing of a famous old fox and his wiles, 
 And lead you a dance of at least fifty miles. 
 I'll tell you a tale of such men and such hounds, 
 With what courage they bound o'er all sorts of grounds 
 How dogs vie with dogs, and how men with men strive- 
 Old Draper may rue that he was not alive. 
 
24 
 
 At Hurworth, fam'd village, as soon as 'twas light. 
 We feasted our eyes with a ravishing sight : 
 Each sportsman had pleasure and health in his face, 
 And horses and hounds were all ripe for the chase. 
 But first, the commander-in-chief I should name. 
 The lord of Kirkleatham, of right honest fame, 
 A friend to good men, but profess'dly a foe 
 To villains of four legs as well as of two. 
 We had not tried long before Rafter gave mouth — 
 Esteemed by the pack as the standard of truth. 
 They quickly fly to him, and instant declare 
 That Kafter was right, for a fox had been there ; 
 And, trust me, he proved a notorious blade. 
 His name was Old Caesar, and plunder his trade : 
 His namesake, in all the great battles he won, 
 Spilled less blood by gallons than this rogue had done. 
 Unken'lling at Eyreholme, he first tried a round 
 In which he might run about four miles of ground. 
 Then back to the earths, but the stopper took care 
 To baulk him from making his quarters good there. 
 Disdaining such treatment he flourished his brush. 
 And seemed to say, " Sportsmen, I care not a rush ; 
 I'll give you such proofs of my stoutness and speed 
 That Nimrod himself would have honoured the breed." 
 By Smeaton and Hornby he next took his way, 
 Eesolved to make this a remarkable day ; 
 Then wheeled to the left for the banks of the Tees, 
 But there he could meet neither safety nor ease. 
 Now finding with what sort of hounds he'd to deal. 
 And that his pursuers were true men of steel, 
 He pushed to gain shelter in Craythorne Wood, 
 The hounds at his brush all eager for blood. 
 The field all alive, now we smoaked him along, 
 So joyous the music, each note was a song — 
 All round us was melody, spirit, and joy. 
 
25 
 
 Next passing by Marten and Ormesby Hall, 
 
 He seemed to say, " Little I value you all." 
 
 JFor many a stout horse was now dropping his speed, 
 
 And to see them tail off was diverting indeed. 
 
 Now found to be thought no contemptible fox, 
 
 He dared us to follow up mountains and rocks ; 
 
 But th' ascent was so steep and so painfully won, 
 
 That few gained the Eston Hall before he was gone. 
 
 To Kirkleatham Park he nexts points his career, 
 
 Hard pressed by the owner to spend his life there ; 
 
 Assuring him he and his guests would not fail 
 
 All possible honour to render his tail. 
 
 But Turner being now left alone on the field, 
 
 And finding Old Caesar unwilling to yield. 
 
 At Kilton thought proper to finish the strife, 
 
 So called off the dogs to give Caesar his life. 
 
 But Blue Bell and Bonny Lass would have a meal — 
 
 Whose hearts are of oak, and whose loins are of steel — 
 
 So followed him up to his friends of the mill, 
 
 Where triumphant they seized him and feasted their fill. 
 
 Then, just like attraction 'twixt needle and pole. 
 
 All center'd that evening in Kirkleatham Hall, 
 
 Where the bottle of red and the fox-hunting bowl 
 
 Not only refreshed but exalted the soul. 
 
 Then may the kind host long continue to grace 
 
 His country, his mansion, and also the chase ; 
 
 And, long as old Time shall be measured by clocks, 
 
 May a Turner for ever prevail o'er a fox. 
 
 By the Key. Me. Bramwell, 
 
 Eector of Hurworth. 
 
26 
 
 THE BEDALE HOUNDS IN 1838. 
 
 Here's to the old ones of fox-hunting fame, 
 Cleveland, Kalph Lampton and Harewood ; 
 
 Here's to the young ones that after them came 
 Who will not say that they are good. 
 
 Here's to the master, (i) well skilled in the art 
 
 To kill an old fox in all weathers ; 
 Here's to the riders, all ready to start, 
 
 Brilliant in boots and in leathers. 
 
 Here's to the hounds, all vigour and bone, 
 
 In condition excelling all others ; 
 Here's to old Barwick,(2) who stands quite alone 
 
 In cheering them on thro' the covers. 
 
 Here's to the Sportsmen, I give you each name, 
 Their feats and their fortunes in detail ; 
 
 North Riding heroes, all eager for fame. 
 To be reaped in the country of Bedale. 
 
 On Borderer mounted see Milbank ride. 
 
 Three hundred won't buy such a horse, sir ; 
 Limbs with no check to their freedom of stride, 
 
 Wind without whistle or cough, sir. 
 
 *' Tally Ho ! Toot a toot ! he is gone," says the squire — 
 
 Let any one catch them who can, sir : 
 Who rides with my hounds a good horse will require, 
 
 And himself he must be a good man, sir. 
 
 Here's to the Duke,(3) if he leads not still Leeds, 
 
 To borrow a joke from his grace, sir; 
 A nobleman true, both in word and in deeds. 
 
 And the firmest support of the chase, sir. 
 
 I. Mr. Milbank, of Thorp Perrow, died 1883. 2. Mr. Milbank's first whip. 
 
 3. The 6th Duke of Leeds, of whom Lord Darlington says, "The bril- 
 liancy of the duke of Leeds's strict and assiduous preservation of the noble 
 animal, the fox, showed forth most conspicuously to-day, and was as bright 
 a gem as any in his grace's star, and most thankfully acknowledged by me." 
 
27 
 
 Here's to the Gr8eme,(4) wlio does not disdain 
 In a north country province to ride, sir ; 
 
 ITorgetting that once, thro' the Leicestershire plain, 
 Scarce a rival could live by his side, sir. 
 
 Here's to the Colonel,(5) if warm be his name, 
 
 Both that and his heart go together ; 
 In pleasant discourse, whilst we ride down the lane, 
 
 Let us be in no hurry to sever. 
 
 Here's to friend George, the beau of CamphilJ, 
 
 A good one, if fast be the chase, sir ; 
 To pass him, 1 tell you, requires as much skill 
 
 As Fieschi, when he won the race, sir. 
 
 Here's to the Baron of Sawley so sly, — 
 
 Here's to his horse that is black, sir ; 
 [Forgetting that always a crow cannot fly, 
 
 He fell o'er a fence on his back, sir, 
 
 Here's to Straubenzee, the dashing and bold. 
 Taking all in his stroke like a man, sir ; 
 
 And the pith of the story remains to he told — 
 You can't shake him oif from the " Van," sir. 
 
 Here's to the Major, the gallant and true. 
 
 In riding to no one he'll yield, sir ; 
 See, he brings by his side a young damsel in view. 
 
 To beat half the men in the field, sir. 
 
 Here's to Dundas's,(6) both Thomas and John, 
 
 They come but to make us remember 
 How short is their stay — for to London they're gone 
 
 Ere the end of the month of November. 
 
 4. Sir Bellingham Graham. 
 
 5. Colonel Arden. 
 
 t. Sons of the first Earl of Zetland. 
 
28 
 
 Here's to the young ones, whose race scarce begun, 
 Young Mark, and the ensign, his brother ; 
 
 They show of a stock most goodly they come, 
 As they tread in the steps of their father. (7) 
 
 The gallant, the ardent, of promise so fair, 
 
 The Beresford brothers they bring ; 
 A word from my pen must give them their share 
 
 Of the honours and glories I sing. 
 
 Many good ones remain — Hodson, Crompton, and Tower, 
 Fox, Ward, and the young one from Norton ; 
 
 But to mention them all is not in my power, 
 So, surely it cannot be thought on. 
 
 And here's to the squire of Thirsk, Jack Bell, (8) 
 Who supports both the chase and the turf, sir ; 
 
 He will not, unless he likes it, go well, 
 Tho' the hounds may run ever so fast, sir. 
 
 Here's a bumper to Milbank, the source of our sport — 
 
 A bumper to him and his hounds, sir ; 
 Brim-full it shall be of the finest old port. 
 
 Where health and good humour abound, sir. 
 
 And may we all flourish till green our old age is, 
 
 Such fun and such sport to pursue, sir ; 
 And your ''lame" humble poet to be hanged now engages 
 
 If his composition 's not true, sir. 
 
 By the Rev. John Monson, 
 from " EecoUections of Sportsmen," &c., 
 by Colonel Van Straubenzee. 
 
 Mr. Milbank's sons. 
 
 Master of the Hambledon hounds. 
 
29 
 
 THE PEOPHET IN HIS OWN COUNTRY; 
 
 OE, DUFTT IN DERBTSHIEE. 
 
 187—. 
 
 In tlie days of Percy Williams, (i) 
 
 In the time of Scarbro's peer, (2) 
 Lived at Epperstone a sportsman 
 
 Keen of sight and quick of ear. 
 Looking down a grassy riding, 
 
 Or across his Dumbies dear. 
 Never could a fox evade him. 
 
 Or escape his ringing cheer. 
 
 Ear away in Winkburn woodlands, 
 
 Or in Eufford's forest glade ; 
 Erom the ancient gorse of Bleasby 
 
 To the Blidworth fir trees' shade ; 
 Ev'ry earth and smeuse he knows them, 
 
 Ev'ry hole that e'er was made. 
 " What a whipper-in is lost there," 
 
 Wond'ring at him, people said. 
 
 By and by, when Squire Musters, (3) 
 
 Who to sport did ever lean, 
 Wanted to revive the glories 
 
 That in South Notts, once were seen ; 
 
 1. Captain Percy Williams, the celebrated gentleman huntsman, master 
 of the Rufiord hounds from 1841 to i860. 
 
 2. John, 8th Earl of Scarbro', died 1856. 
 
 3. John Chaworth Musters, born 1838. Hunted the South Notts, 
 country from 1861 to 1868, the Quorn from 1868 to 1870, and, returning to 
 South Notts, in 1871, hunted that country till 1876, when he was obliged, 
 through ill-health, to give up his hounds. 
 
30 
 
 Saying, " Let us liave some foxhounds — 
 That may be which once has been." 
 
 Who so full of zeal as Dufty ? (4) 
 Who so anxious ? who so keen ? 
 
 Still the same as years pass o'er him. 
 
 Clad in sportsmanlike array ; 
 Hunting always j&nds him ready 
 
 With a scent to sail away. 
 Does a flooded brook need fording ? 
 
 Dufty's here and knows the way. 
 Does a straight-necked fox want finding ? 
 
 What has Dufty got to say ? 
 
 So at last we grew to think him 
 
 Filled with wisdom more than man ; 
 Wily in the ways of creatures — 
 
 Fause as any fox that ran. 
 One fine day our master, Eolleston, (5) 
 
 Hunting always all he can, 
 Thinks to please his good friend Dufty, 
 
 And unfolds to him this plan : — 
 
 '' On next Saturday we're going 
 
 To a country rich and rare ; 
 Full of covers, grass, and foxes — 
 
 Oh ! the scents that we have there ! 
 You shall bring your horse to Gedling — 
 
 Place him in the train with care, 
 Then be wafted smooth and swiftly 
 
 To that land beyond compare." 
 
 4. Thomas Dufty, of Epperstone, one of the best of sportsmen, and the 
 hero of this poem. 
 
 5. Lancelot Rolleston, of Watnall. Hunted the South Notts, country 
 from 1876 to 1882. 
 
31 
 
 To the tempter Duffcy listened. 
 
 When the morning came he went, 
 Travelled by Great Northern Eailway, 
 
 Still on Horsley Car intent. 
 When he got there, quite delighted, 
 
 (Covers, foxes, grass, and scent,) 
 All he found that he'd been told off — 
 
 " This is what the master meant." 
 
 Later on, that winter evening, 
 
 Coxbench covers must be drawn. 
 " Dufty, you stand here to view him, 
 
 Close beside that black old thorn." 
 You, I know, won't let him slip you ; 
 
 You're a man one need not warn." 
 Small this cover is, and hollow — 
 
 Foxes here must soon be gone. 
 
 Hark ! the joyful news proclaiming ! 
 
 Foxhounds' music fills the air ; 
 Ev'ry heart beats loud and gaily, 
 
 Waiting Dufty's welcome cheer. 
 Strange ! the silence still unbroken — 
 
 To that end he ran 'tis clear ; 
 Hounds come pouring to the corner — 
 
 " Sir, I'm sure he's not gone here." 
 
 Can I tell this wondrous story : 
 
 How he passed 'neath Dufty's nose : 
 Ean right down the ditch below him, 
 
 Almost grazed his horse's toes ? 
 Sad and scornful were the murmurs 
 
 From the strangers there that rose. 
 South Notts, men must now knock under — 
 
 Derbyshire o'er Dufty crows. 
 
 L. C. MUSTEES. 
 
32 
 
 An exact account of the Fox Chase on ye 2nd of 
 
 Decembee, 1745, by his Grace the Duke of 
 
 Grafton's hounds, as follows : — 
 
 Unkenneld at half an hour past nine of the clock in 
 the forenoon at Ladis Carr, near the Decoy in Euston, 
 and from thence came away over the Heath to the Marie 
 Pit, through Honington and by Sapson Carr. From 
 thence to Bangor Bridge, came along the late Mrs. 
 Eeade's Carr, and cross the road by Back Bridge. 
 Went away for Stanton Chair, over the deal, and past 
 Stanton earth, and then through ye corn grounds, the 
 back side of Hepworth common to Seacey's hole, when 
 we turned towards the right, and came thro' Walsham- 
 le- Willows ; and then for Langham common down to 
 Stow-langtoft, and across the river between Wayley 
 poole and Stow bridge, and then to Packenham wood, 
 and from thence to ye Kiln grounds, the back side of 
 Thurston common. From thence to Beighton groves, 
 and on to Drinkston and Hesset groves, and near Moule 
 wood, and past Drinkston Hall ; and from thence to 
 Eattlesden, between the great wood and the street, and 
 thro' Haisel grove to Wood Hall, when ye hounds were 
 at a check for two or three minutes, which was ye only 
 check during the whole chase. The huntsman took a 
 half cast, and hit it off, and came away across Buxhall, 
 Fen Street, and from thence to Norfield, and by Fox 
 Hill Grove, and across the Stow Market road to Day- 
 worth hills, and thro' old Newton and bear-gipping 
 wood ; then away for Stow upland, and from 
 thence to West Greeting, over the green by Eay- 
 don Hall ; then we turned on the right and came 
 down to Combs, and across the two rivers by Cook's 
 ivater mill, and across the road between Combsford and 
 
Stow Market wind mills, and then thro' Mr. John 
 Baylis' cheny yard to the sign of the Shepherd and Dog 
 in one house, and killed by some hop yards, near 
 William WoUaston's, Esq., at four of the clock in the 
 afternoon. 
 
 N.B. — This is as Brief an account as can be given, 
 notwithstanding there was several Rings and Turns too 
 tedious to insert here. Ean through twenty-eight 
 Parishes, which in whole, upon a moderate computation, 
 is sixty miles by care. 
 
 John Goodrich. 
 
 Copied by the Duke of Grafton from an old sporting 
 book at Euston Hall, 1860 (from A. Hamond). 
 
 Euston to Greeting is seventeen miles as the crow 
 flies.— L. C. M. 
 
 A EUN WITH THE « WEST OE FIEE." 
 
 Eebeuaet 2nd, 1877. 
 
 Loud blows the wind around the house, 
 Eain dashes on the pane ; 
 The Western Hunt bemoan their fate, 
 Eor the meet is Pitfirrane. 
 
 But, nothing daunted, on they pull 
 Their breeches, spurs, and boots ; 
 And come in Eed, and some in Black, 
 And some in other suits. 
 
84 
 
 A few appear on wheels that day. 
 And two have come by rail ; 
 But if I counted all who came, 
 'Twould make too long a tale. 
 
 The Hounds were brought before the door, 
 
 And gathered in a cluster ; 
 
 Their eyes shone bright, 
 
 High waved their sterns. 
 
 Their coats all shone with lustre. 
 
 The Master in the middle sits 
 Upon his mare " Gazette ;" 
 Says he, " The ground is very deep, 
 " But I'll be with em yet." 
 
 Jack Shepherd, on the kicking mare, 
 Is eager for the fray; 
 And Harry Sinclair, second whip, 
 Is on the snorting grey. 
 
 But time is up, so let us move, 
 Lead on to Wood of Dean ; 
 " Look out for riot," Harry, Jack ! 
 " For hounds are very keen." 
 
 Then in they dash, and quest about, 
 A fox can never rest here ; 
 But hark ! a Hound two miles a-head ! 
 No matter that, «'Tis ' Nestor.'" * 
 
 But now, a deep and solemn note 
 
 Is heard within the wood : 
 
 " 'Tis ' Roe,' " says Jack ; " 'Tis not," said I, 
 
 " 'Tis ' Eorester,' the good." 
 
 An incorrigible hare hunter, but afterwards turned out well. 
 
35 
 
 " 'Tis ' Forester,' the good old Hound, 
 " And hark, hark to his cry ;" 
 Away they scramble through the brake, 
 And quickly to him fly. 
 
 A whimper from a younger Hound, 
 Who's rather in a fright, 
 But " Reginald " and " Lurgan " come. 
 And quickly set him right. 
 
 And now the chorus loud resounds 
 Throughout the forest glade ; 
 The fox begins to think that he 
 Must leave its welcome shade. 
 
 Away he goes, and pointing south. 
 As if for Shores of Forth, 
 Holds on to Torrie Park, and then 
 He bends a Httle north. 
 
 Through Oakley Woods and past the house, 
 He leads a merry dance ; 
 The owner would have liked the fun, 
 Bat he's away in France. 
 
 On o'er the railway, up the hill. 
 And past a farm he speeds ; 
 " 'Twill put," the farmer loudly shouts, 
 "My cattle ofl" their feeds." 
 
 Blair Wood appears, they do not dwell. 
 But steady hunt him through ; 
 Kinneddar's strips and policies 
 Now burst upon the view. 
 
36 
 
 Across the road bo Bandrum Hill, 
 But here he runs his foil, 
 A check ensues, we're all at fault, 
 So round the hill we toil. 
 
 A shepherd waves his cap on high, 
 " The Tod is north !" shouts he, 
 " The biggest one that e'er I've seen ; 
 *' He's near as long as me !" 
 
 Across the road we get a scent, 
 Yes ! surely that's his line ; 
 They score to cry ; away they go ; 
 My certes, but it's fine. 
 
 Now " Eioter," he shoots a-head. 
 Who once was fond of Hare, 
 But now a fox is scarce afoot, 
 But " Rioter " is there. 
 
 Still up the hill they stream away, 
 " Excelsior" is the cry ; 
 And some of us begin to think 
 Our nags will surely die. 
 
 " Come up, good horse, we will be there, 
 *' The hill we must get round," 
 They cock their ears, their bristles rise, 
 "We'll have him for a Pound !" 
 
 Now cast your eye along yon hedge, 
 Which leads to Milton Den ; 
 " 'Tis he ! I see his drooping brush ; 
 *' He's mine for Three Pounds Ten !" 
 
They view him now, and what a rush ! 
 It is a glorious burst ; 
 'Tis " Saffron " now, 'tis " Stormer " yet ! 
 Ah ! " Gaylad" has him first. 
 
 " Give me a pad," young Oswald cries, 
 His riding was a caution ; 
 His sister, who went well, is there. 
 The Brush shall be her portion. 
 
 '* Give me a pad," George Prentice said, 
 " To nail upon my door ;" 
 " And me, and me," the others cry, 
 Alas ! he has but four. 
 
 " The Hounds all up but one," says Jack, 
 A Hound of evil habit ; 
 Ha ! what's that going o'er the hill ? 
 'Tis " Kestor " with a rabbit ! 
 
 But we must let him off this time, 
 Nor Avhip, nor rate be heard ; 
 'T would never do to damp our joy — 
 His punishment's deferred. 
 
 And now for home ; and though they say 
 The " Eastern "f pack's the best. 
 Then come and try, ye Eastern swells, 
 A gallop with the " AYest." 
 
 Erom SiE Arthue Halkett. 
 Pitfirrane, Feb., 1877. 
 
 t Colonel Anstruther Thomson hunted the East of Fife ; Sir Arthur 
 Flalkett the West. 
 
38 
 
 LOliD GAEDNER. 
 
 In the " Sporting Magazine," forty-five years ago, there 
 appeared a poem called " The Chaunt of Achilles/' con- 
 cerning the authorship of which no slight curiosity was 
 expressed at the time. The lines in question purported 
 to issue from the bronze lips of the Achilles statue in 
 Hyde Park, and to satirise the appearance, character, 
 and antecedents of all the most conspicuous persons of 
 both sexes who frequented " the Eow," upon which the 
 Grecian hero still looks down. Shortly after the death 
 of Mr. Bernal Osborne, some papers were found which 
 seemed to establish that *' The Chaunt of Achilles " came 
 from his pen, nor is there any lack of internal evidence 
 to show that this surmise, if not correct, is at least not 
 wanting in probability. The anonymous author was 
 certainly of a sarcastic and censorious turn, and among 
 the well-known personages of the day who came under 
 his lash none fared worse or received harder measure 
 than the third Lord Gardner, who died last week. In 
 1838, when '* The Chaunt of Achilles " was written, 
 Lord Gardner was in his twenty-ninth year, and had 
 already established for himself the reputation of being 
 one of the best and hardest riders that ever sailed across 
 country with the Quorn or Pytchley hounds. Achilles 
 exclaims — 
 
 *'But lo! where, following on chesnut dark, 
 The grinning Gardner canters down the park, 
 Slow in the Senate, though not wanting sense, 
 Quick at retort, but quicker at a fence ; 
 With him no hunter ever dare refuse. 
 So good his hand, though damnable his muse. 
 Strange, though for years I've listened to the crowd 
 Who canvass character, the rich, the proud, 
 
39 
 
 Of him alone I never yet have heard 
 
 One kindly action, one approving word. 
 
 Sparing of cash, he ne'er outruns the bounds, 
 
 And Suffield keeps while Gardner hunts the hounds." 
 
 The pack here alluded to was, of course, the Quorn, 
 which Lord Southampton had given up at the end of 
 the hunting season of 1830, to be succeeded, first by 
 Squire Osbaldeston, and then by Lord Suffield. It is a 
 melancholy reflection that the deaths of Lord Wilton, 
 of Mr. Stirling Crawfurd, and Lord Gardner, have so 
 thinned the ranks of the first-flight men who flourished 
 at Melton about the time when her Majesty ascended 
 the throne that, with the exception of Mr. Little Gil- 
 mour, of Colonel Forester, and of that evergreen veteran, 
 the Eeverend Mr. Bullen,* of Eastwell, there are none 
 others now left. 
 
 Another death has lately taken place — that of a lady 
 — which reminds us of the vast changes that English 
 fox-hunting has experienced since the day when, nearly 
 seventy years ago, the Honourable Barbara Annesley, 
 great-aunt to the present Lord Valentia, married Squire 
 Drake, of Shardeloes, who was for many years Master 
 ot the Bicester hounds. "What recollections will not 
 the decease of Mrs. Drake, in her eighty-sixth year, 
 call up in the minds of many generations of Oxford 
 undergraduates, who hunted with her husband's hounds 
 when Plancus was Consul ? Within the memory of 
 many who have scarcely passed middle age, the Peck- 
 water quadrangle at Christ Church, and the gates of nearly 
 every other College in Oxford, were alive upon a hunting 
 morning with cover hacks, upon the backs of which scores of 
 eager undergraduates proceeded to mountain order to make 
 
 * Mr. Bullen is since dead, 1884. 
 
40 
 
 their way at full gallop to Stratton Audley, or Bletcliing- 
 ton, or to other well-known meets of Squire Drake's 
 hounds. Even the strict discipline of Baliol College 
 when Dr. Jenkins was Master did not restrain the 
 present Duke of Westminster, the late George Law- 
 rence, author of " Guy Livingstone," and ISir Henry 
 Des Voeux, from hunting with Mr. Drake or with the 
 Heythrop hounds three or four times in every week ; 
 while University College habitually sent forth a host of 
 her sons, with Mr. George Glyn, now Lord Wolverton, 
 at their head, to try their luck with the Berkshire pack. 
 When the late Sir Robert Clifton came up to reside at 
 Christ Church in 1844, he brought fourteen hunters with 
 him, and in those days the life of an undergraduate, 
 especially if he was a " tuft," or a gentleman commoner, 
 differed little from that of a regular habitue of 
 Melton Mowbray or Market Harborough. The " dons " 
 did not interfere much with the pleasures and pursuits 
 of fast and opulent men, so long as they got home 
 before midnight and slept in college; and it required no 
 sUght amount of ingenuity for an undergraduate to get 
 rusticated in those easy-going times. It was reserved 
 for half-a-dozen men belonging to the fast set at Palliol 
 in 1846 to draw the displeasure of the Master upon 
 their heads, by riding a steeplechase among themselves, 
 which led to their being sent down for the rest of the 
 term. On the Derby Day undergraduates were com- 
 pelled to dine in hall at five o'clock, so that it should be 
 impossible for them to attend the great race at Epsom ; 
 but the penalties attached to disobedience did not prevent 
 Sir Tatton Sykes from going to Epsom in Pyrrhus I.'s 
 year; the result being that his career as an undergraduate 
 came prematurely to an end. 
 
 The picture of "Melton in 1830," drawn by Lord 
 Gardner's hand, would not fit the Melton of "to-day. 
 
41 
 
 and the fields in which he was a protagonist were small 
 indeed as compared with the swarming hosts of well- 
 mounted men who now attend the meets of the Quorn and 
 Cottesmore hounds. As regards hard riding, we do not 
 believe there is much difference between the best perform- 
 ers of forty and fifty years ago and their successors of 
 to-day. \V'e are told by croakers that the days o£ fox- 
 hunting are numbered in these sporting islands ; but so 
 long as Melton and every other hunting centre boasts 
 the presence of riders who are not inferior to Lord 
 Wilton and Lord Gardner when at their best, we do 
 not expect to see any diminution in the number of packs 
 which take the field in each successive November. 
 Lord Grardner died ^November, 1883. 
 
 Erom a newspaper cuttin* 
 
 HAZLEEOED EEERT : 
 
 a tale of disastee. 
 
 Eebruart 5th, 1877. 
 ■ The mirth, and the adventure, and the sport that we have shared.' 
 
 Of those who met at Epperstone on Monday last I tell, 
 The changes and the chances which that motley crew 
 
 befell; 
 Erom the gentlemen in scarlet coats w^ho o'er the fences 
 
 sail 
 To the little boys on ponies and the tagrag and bobtail. 
 
42 
 
 The north-west wind was blowing on that Februaiy 
 
 morn, 
 And at Thistley when they went away we could not 
 
 hear the horn. 
 Then such galloping and questioning, such riding and 
 
 such rage, 
 Till at Thurgarton we find them, and at once our wrath 
 
 assuage. 
 
 On to Bleasby, slowly hunting, we come up by twos and 
 
 threes, 
 And, o'er the ploughs performing, we arrive by slo\^ 
 
 degrees. 
 From the gorse a change came over the spirit of our 
 
 dream. 
 As downwards o'er the railway the hounds began to 
 
 stream. 
 
 How we cantered, how we galloped, and how down the 
 
 lane we rode ; 
 How we saw the scent improving as a gallant head they 
 
 showed. 
 I cannot well describe it, for my timid heart beat fast, 
 When I saw the Trent before us, and I felt the die was 
 
 cast: 
 
 One moment in the meadows close beside the flood w ' 
 
 shrink. 
 And we anxiously watch Eolleston as he casts them on 
 
 the brink ; 
 But the voices of the bargemen that rise above the roar, 
 And their cruel gestures show us that he's reached tlK' 
 
 further shore. 
 
43 
 
 The river's running. swift and strong, the current it is 
 
 wide, 
 Yet we must chance the danger — we must reach the 
 
 other side. 
 So spake each sportsman hardy as he joined the pushing 
 
 mass 
 That down beside the water scarcely let each other pass. 
 
 A sportsman of experience thus to his daughters spoke, 
 " If w^e wait till all are over, I can see 'twill be no joke ; 
 Supposing down the river we were craftily to ride, 
 Over Iiskerton we rapidly shall reach the other side." 
 
 Meanwhile the hounds and huntsmen had been ferried 
 
 o'er the flood, 
 And their voices, gaily chiming, we could hear beneath 
 
 Stoke "Wood, 
 As we hurried on to Fiskerton vdth souls intent on sport, 
 Thinking gladly we should nick them as they down the 
 
 wind turned short. 
 
 ! how vexing was that tow-path, with its heavy double 
 
 gates, 
 And the best of men how trying when about his horse 
 
 he prates. 
 But at length we reach our ferry — no wall difficulty's o'er. 
 " Hi ! boatman ! come, look sharp, I say, and punt us 
 
 to yon shore." 
 
 Just conceive our indignation, and the blow that we 
 
 were dealt : 
 " Yery sorry, sir ; impossible ; the bottom can't be felt." 
 Quite remorseless, full of enterprise, we onward dash 
 
 again. 
 Scarcely thinking, never caring if our errand is in vain. 
 
44 
 
 Fortune seems to smile upon us when we reach the 
 
 -Parndon shore. 
 Here's a chain — boat, strong and likely, will hold six 
 
 or even more. 
 With reckless haste we crowd in — seven mortals, horses 
 
 five — 
 With a guilty sense of triumph that we sooner shall 
 
 arrive 
 
 Than the sportsman of experience who waits the second 
 
 turn, 
 With his daughter sadly watching as their hearts within 
 
 them burn. 
 But ah ! what horrid noise is this that breaks upon my 
 
 ear ? 
 A rasping, and a rattling, and a snapping sound I hear. 
 
 Then in that laden ferry boat was tumult and affright, 
 For alas ! the chain had broken ! we were in a helpless 
 
 plight. 
 With our broadside to the water, while the horses stamp 
 
 and snort — 
 An unpleasant situation, and, you see, with danger 
 
 fraught. 
 
 So rapidly we glide along the eddying stream straight 
 
 down. 
 It doesn't seem unlikely we shall soon reach Newark 
 
 town ; 
 Unless upon a sand-bank we are left to pass the day 
 In a sort of picnic party, but without the bill to pay. 
 
45 
 
 But by dint of poles and punting, and of myrmidons 
 
 with ropes. 
 It appears of landing safely we may entertain good hopes. 
 But we must take farewell of those we leave the other 
 
 side. 
 As on the sodden grass we leap with thankfulness and 
 
 pride. 
 
 Now after such adventures and disasters who could 
 
 guess 
 That we found our trouble wasted — was there ever such 
 
 a mess ? 
 We galloped down the old Foss road, we galloped o'er 
 
 the plough, 
 But hounds and huntsman all are gone — we cannot hear 
 
 them now. 
 
 The gallant fox swam back, they say, and lives to run 
 
 again, 
 And if we're there to hunt him we'll forgive the broken 
 
 chain. 
 The sportsmen on the other side who saw the evening's 
 
 run 
 With us will wish these hounds good luck and " years 
 
 of future fun." 
 
 L. C. M. 
 
 THE ETJFFOED HOUNDS. 
 
 SiR^ — On Tuesday, Nov. 29, these hounds had a 
 remarkable run, which will long be remembered by those 
 who were fortunate enough to see it^ and which has 
 
46 
 
 never been surpassed in the annals of fox-hunting in 
 the Eufford country. The meet was at Caunton Manor, 
 and, after the usual chat with Canon Hole, who loves 
 fox-hunting, as does his good lady, the Master decided 
 to draw Werner Wood instead of Caunton Park (where 
 the Canon can generally find as good a fox as most 
 folks). His reason for so doing was that Werner 
 Wood held twice this season a wild fox who was off 
 before hounds were fairly in the covert. On this occa- 
 sion the Master viewed him away just as Hayes was 
 about throwing his hounds (the dog pack) into the wood, 
 and soon every hound was on his line and away for 
 Caunton Park, where he did not dwell a moment, but 
 held on to Ossington High Wood. Just before reaching 
 this covert a sheep-dog coursed him, and hounds checked, 
 as they always do when these brutes interfere ; but 
 Hayes hit him off into the wood, and, getting a holloa 
 away from Harry on the other side, was soon at Knee- 
 sail Green Wood. Through this covert hounds hunted 
 him steadily and well, and again was he viewed away by 
 Harry pointing for Wellow Park ; but, turning short of 
 it, he ran through Finder's Farm, and made as if for 
 Kirton Wood, turned down the hill into the village, and 
 hounds nearly had him in the orchards, but he slipped 
 through a yard and over the fine grass meadows and 
 the brook, which proved fatal to more than one, and a 
 bridge breaking in likewise, the field was considerably 
 reduced, and set his head straight for the forest, hounds 
 running hard over Boughton Brake, and through the 
 small covert alongside the river, past Conger Alders, 
 over the Ketford-road, as if for Patmore, in Lord 
 Gralway's country, but his strength was failing, and soon 
 the Master viewed him struggling on before the hounds, 
 who were now running for their fox past Peck's Farm, 
 
47 
 
 through Blyth Corner, into Clumber, where again he is 
 viewed by Hayes, who was, as he invariably is, close to 
 his hounds, and just before they reached the boundary 
 of the Kufford country, the hounds (whose work from 
 beginning to end had been beyond all praise) ran into 
 him in fine style close to the Clumber Nurseries, and 
 not a stone's throw from Normanton Inn. A select 
 few, good men and true every one, saw this grand old 
 fox given to the good hounds, who so well deserved 
 him, and all turned homewards, believing they had seen 
 such a run as they could hardly hope to see again. 
 With a long experience of the country, I may say that 
 I never remember a " clay" fox coming so far into the 
 forest, and I never recollect scent being equally good 
 on both " clay " and " sand." The distance as the crow 
 flies is twelve miles, as they ran, fourteen. Time, one 
 hour and fifty minutes. 
 
 Sheewood J^'orest. (T. H. D. B.) 
 
 THE GLORY OF MOTION: 
 South Oxfordshiee. 
 
 Three twangs of the horn, and they're all out of cover — 
 
 Must have yon old bullfinch, that's right in the way : 
 
 A rush, and a bound, and a crash, and I'm over ; 
 
 They're silent, and racing, and for'ard away ! 
 
 Fly, Charley, my darling ! away and we follow ! 
 
 There's no earth or cover for mile upon mile ; 
 
 We're winged with the flight of the stork and the 
 
 swallow — 
 The heart of the eagle is ours for a while. 
 
48 
 
 The pasture land knows not of rough plough or harrow, 
 The hoofs echo hollow and soft on the sward ; 
 The soul of the horses goes into our marrow — 
 My saddle's the kingdom, whereof I am lord ; 
 And, rolling and flowing beneath us like ocean, 
 Gray waves of the high ridge and furrow glide on ; 
 And small flying fences, in musical motion, 
 Before us, beneath us, behind us, are gone. 
 
 Oh, puissant of bone and of sinew availing. 
 
 To speed through the glare of the long desert hours ; 
 
 My white-breasted camel, the meek and unfailing. 
 
 That sighed not, like me, for the shades and the showers ; 
 
 And bright little Barbs, with veracious pretences 
 
 To blood ^ the Prophet's and Solomon's sires ; 
 
 You stride not the stride, and you fly not the fences. 
 
 And all the wide Hejaz is naught to the Shires. 
 
 0, gay gondolier ! from thy night-flitting shallop 
 I've heard the soft pulses of oar and guitar ; 
 But sweeter 's the rhythmical rush of the gallop, 
 The '' fire in the saddle," the flight of the star. 
 Old mare, my beloved, no stouter or faster 
 Hath ever strode under a man at his need : 
 Be glad in the hand and embrace of thy master, 
 And pant to the passionate music of speed. 
 
 Old Beauty — how quickly, as onw^ard she races 
 
 And " comes through her horses " in spite of my hold, 
 
 I catch the expression of jolly brown faces 
 
 Of parties a-going it over the wold. 
 
 They mostly look anxiously glad to be in it. 
 
 All hitting, and holding, and bucketing past ; 
 
 O, pleasure of pleasures ! from minute to minute — 
 
 The pace and the horses — may both of them last. 
 
49 
 
 Can there e'er be a thought to an elderly person 
 
 So keen, so inspiring — so hard to forget — 
 
 So fully adapted to break into verse on 
 
 As this — that the steel isn't out of him yet ? 
 
 That flying speed tickles one's brain with a feather; 
 
 That one's horse can restore one the years that are gone 
 
 That spite of gray winter and weariful weather. 
 
 The blood and the pace carry on, carry on ! 
 
 E. St. John Tyewhitt, 
 
 In "Our Sketching Club." 
 
 '' rOEMOSISSIMUS ANNUS." 
 Atjtumn, 1884. 
 
 They have done with the beans, they have carried the 
 
 corn, 
 The white Autumn furrows are glittering and shorn ; 
 The seven-o'clock sunshine is cloudless and clear, 
 And sweet to the end is the Beautiful Year. 
 
 The Port Meadow turf echoes low as we ride, 
 And light is the gallop by Isis her side ; 
 Down float on her waters, more scarlet than sere, 
 The sun-tinted leaves of the Beautiful Tear. 
 
 Black rooks and grey starlings are mustering on high, 
 The blue heron wings over with desolate cry; 
 The lapwings they whistle and wail far and near; 
 Are they sad for the wane of the Beautiful Year ? 
 
50 
 
 Not they — nor we either — in Wytham once more 
 The O. B. are out, with a stout cub before ; 
 Push up the long hill thro' the cover, and hear 
 Their earliest chime, in the Beautiful Year. 
 
 Sweet birds and light leaves — ye may glitter and fly : 
 We send a sigh after, but only a sigh : 
 Thy death has a beauty that casteth out fear 
 With hope in thine ending, O Beautiful Year. 
 
 K. St. J. T. 
 
 HOW WE BEAT THE EAYOUEITE. 
 
 *' Ay, Squire," said George Stevens, "• they back him at 
 evens — 
 
 The race is all over bar shouting, they say : 
 The Clown ought to beat her — Dick Neville is sweeter 
 
 Than ever ; he swears he can win all the way." 
 
 A gentleman rider ! well, I'm an outsider ; 
 
 But if he's a gent, who the deuce is a jock ? 
 Your swells mostly blunder — Dick rides for the plunder ; 
 
 He rides, too, like thunder — he sits like a rock. 
 
 He calls *' hunted fairly " a horse that has barely 
 Been stripped for a trot within sight of the hounds ; 
 
 A horse that at Warwick beat Birdlime and Torick, 
 And gave Abdel Kader at Aintree nine pounds. 
 
 They say we have no test to warrant a protest : 
 
 Dick rides for a lord, and stands in with a steward. 
 
 The light of their faces they show him his case is 
 Prejudged, and his verdict already secured. 
 
51 
 
 But none can outlast her, and few travel faster ; 
 
 She strides in her work clean away from " the Drag." 
 You hold her and sit her — she couldn't be fitter — 
 
 "Whenever you hit her she'll spring like a stag. 
 
 And perhaps the green jacket, tho' at odds they may 
 back it, 
 
 May fall, or there's no knowing what may turn up. 
 The mare is just ready — sit still and ride steady ; 
 
 Keep cool, and I think you may just win the cup. 
 
 Dark brown with tan muzzle, just stripped for the tuzzle. 
 Stood Iseult, now arching her neck to the curb : 
 
 A lean head and fiery, strong quarters and wiry ; 
 A loin rather light, but a shoulder superb. 
 
 Some parting injunction, bestowed with great unction, 
 I tried to recall, but forgot like a dunce, 
 
 When Eeginald Murray, full tilt on White Surrey, 
 Came down in a hurry to start us at once. 
 
 " Keep back, in the yellow ! " '' Come up, on Othello ! " 
 " Hold hard, on the chesnut !" " Turn round on the 
 Drag!"— 
 " Keep back there, on Spartan ! " " Back you, sir, in 
 tartan !" 
 " So, steady there, easy !" and down went the flag. 
 
 We started — and Kerr made strong running on Mermaid 
 Through furrows that led to the first stake and bound ; 
 
 The crack, half extended, looked blood-like and splendid, 
 Held wide on the right, where the headland was sound. 
 
52 
 
 The fourth fence^a wattle — floored Monk and Blue- 
 bottle — 
 
 The Drag came to grief at the black thorn and ditch. 
 The rails toppled over Redoubt and Eed Eover — 
 
 The lane stopped Lycurgus and Leicestershire Witch. 
 
 She passed like an arrow Kildare and Cock Sparrow, 
 And Mantrap and Mermaid refused the stone wall ; 
 
 And Giles on the Grayling came down at the paling. 
 And I was left sailing in front of them all. 
 
 I took them a burster — nor eased her, nor nursed her 
 Until the black bullfinch led into the plough ; 
 
 And thro' the strong bramble we bored with a scramble — 
 My cap was knocked off by a hazel tree bough. 
 
 Where furrows looked lighter I pulled the rein tighter, 
 The dark chest all dappled with flakes of white foam ; 
 
 The flanks mud bespattered — a weak rail we shattered — 
 We land on the turf with our heads turned for home. 
 
 She cracked a low binder, and then close behind her 
 The sward to the hoofs of the favourite shook. 
 
 His rush roused her mettle, yet ever so little — 
 She shortened her stride as we raced for the brook. 
 
 She rose when I hit her — I saw the stream glitter — 
 A wide scarlet nostril pushed close to my knee. 
 
 Between sky and water the Clown came and caught 
 her, 
 The space that he cleared was a caution to see. 
 
53 
 
 And forcing the running, discarding all cunning, 
 A length to the front went the rider in green. 
 
 A long strip of stubble, and then the big double — 
 Two stiff flights of rails, with a quickset between. 
 
 She raced at the rasper — I felt my knees grasp her ; 
 
 I found my hands give to the strain on the bit. 
 She rose when the Clown did — our silks as we bounded 
 
 Brushed lightly — our stirrups clashed loops as we hit. 
 
 Arise, steeply sloping, a fence with stone coping — 
 The last : we diverged round the base of the hill. 
 
 His path was the nearer — his leap was the clearer — 
 I flogged up the straight, and he led sitting still. 
 
 She came to his quarter, and on still I brought her, 
 And up to his girths and his breast-plate she drew, 
 
 A short prayer from Neville just reached me — "the 
 devil ! " 
 He muttered — locked level, the hurdles we flew. 
 
 A hum of hoarse cheering — a dense crowd careering — 
 All sights seen obscurely — all shouts vaguely heard : 
 
 "The green wins!" "the crimson!" the multitude 
 swims on: 
 The figures are blended — the features are blurred. 
 
 " The horse is her master ! " " the green forges past her !" 
 " The Clown will outlast her — the Clown wins ! the 
 Clown ! " 
 
 The white railing races, with all the white faces — 
 The chesnut outpaces, outstretches the brown ! 
 
54 
 
 On still past tlie gateway, she strains in tlie straight- 
 way — 
 Still struggles the " Clown by a short neck at most : " 
 He swerves ! the green scourges — the stand rocks and 
 
 surges, 
 And flashes, and verges, and flits the white post. 
 
 Ay, so ends the struggle. I knew the tan muzzle 
 
 Was first, tho' the ring-men were yelling dead heat. 
 A nose I could swear by, but the judge said, " the mare 
 
 by 
 
 A short head," and that's how the favourite was beat. 
 From Majoe Paget Mosley. 
 
 NOTES FEOM WILL STANSBT'S DIAET AT 
 BADMINTON, 1843. 
 
 Amongst ye changes this spring are ye following : — 
 
 April. — Te East Sussex hounds sold for debt. Lord 
 Ducie bought most of them, and gave to Lord Giffard. 
 
 The first whip from ye Q^io™, B. Boothroyd, goes 
 as huntsman to the Marquis of Hastings, succeeding 
 Will Derry, who goes to hunt Lord Southampton's, 
 vice Taylor. 
 
 Charles Treadwell leaves Mr. Eobertson, and goes to 
 hunt Earl of Harewood's. 
 
 Mr. Eobertson, of Lady Kirk, gives up ye Northum- 
 berland country, and sells his pack to Lord Elcho, who 
 resigns East Lothian to hunt ye country vacated by 
 Mr. E. in Berwickshire. I hear the distemper has 
 been very favourable with Lord Elcho this year, not 
 
55 
 
 having yet lost one young hound. They put forward 
 22 couples. 
 
 r. Flint leaves Lord Southampton (first whip), and 
 goes to hunt the Duke of Cleveland's stag hounds. He 
 lived some years with the Duke of Eutland as first whip, 
 and left on Goosey's retirement from ye post of hunts- 
 man, and Goodall's (Wm.) promotion from second 
 whip to Groosey's place, in ye spring, 1842. 
 
 The ]S"orfolk hounds given up this spring through 
 scarcity of foxes and want of support. 
 
 Lord Portman gives up his " wee " pack, which are 
 bought by Earl Shannon to hunt in Ireland, in addition 
 to what he bought of Lord Bruce, and hunted in 
 Ireland with last season. Thos. Bown went to him last 
 season as huntsman, or rather latter end of ye summer. 
 He had lived with Sir Thomas Stanley. 
 
 Mr. Cockburn gives up ye Tiverton country (Devon), 
 and takes ye Kursley country, Hants. 
 
 Charles Bridges goes from Badminton as second whip 
 to the Duke of Eutland. 
 
 The past season, the Heythrop hounds had most 
 excellent sport. Captain Anstey told William Long, 
 in my hearing, that it was worth any two seasons he 
 ever remembered to have seen. 
 
 Earl Eitzhardinge's killed 76| brace of foxes; but 
 Harry Ayris told me they had not a succession of sport; 
 in short, that it was with them a very indifi'erent season. 
 More blood I never heard tell of any one pack getting 
 in one season. 
 
 William Todd, at ye beginning of ye past season, 
 went to Sir Ilichard Sutton as huntsman, on Shirley 
 giving up, and Sir Eichard taking ye Cottesmore 
 country. He, however, soon left, and went back to Mr. 
 Harvey Coombe (whose hounds he had been hunting in 
 
56 
 
 the old Berkeley coimtry) as groom. Sir Richard had 
 a very unfavourable season indeed. Great complaints. 
 I saw a letter from Mr. Gilmour to John Campbell, 
 Esq., of Glensaddel, wherein he says the hounds seldom 
 find their fox, but are daily halloo'd to them after draw- 
 ing the coverts ; instancing one day in particular, when 
 they drew Woodall Head,* a very favourite covert, 
 without finding. On leaving it they were halloo'd back, 
 a fox having been viewed in ye covert. On their taking 
 to ye scent, a brace more, making a leash, were proved 
 to be there. "This," says he, "occurs daily." 
 
 Mr. Campbell, after hunting with the Duke of 
 Beaufort, at whose house he stayed ye season, sold his 
 stud of eight horses at Tattersall's, excepting that rare 
 old horse Paganini, which was taken back to Scotland, 
 and afterwards sold to J. O. Tairlie, Esq. 
 
 Eriday, September 9th, 1842. — Duke of Beaufort's 
 hounds. — Killcott. Ye morning very wet and stormy. 
 Went home at nine o'clock. At half-past ten went out 
 on ye lawn with 22| couple fresh hounds, to draw Swan 
 Grove, ye Duke, Prince Leichtenstein, and several 
 foreigners, being at Badminton. Te day turned out 
 very wet; and as it was intended for a day for ye 
 Princess and ladies, postponed till ye morrow. 
 
 Saturday, Sept. 10th, 1842.— Met on ye lawn 22^ 
 couple. Went to Swan Grove. Found a brace of 
 mangy foxes ; had some little running backwards and 
 for\^ards, and finally killed one in ye gorse by Eagged 
 Castle. Went to Bodkin Wood. Eound at least 3 
 brace of cubs ; killed a brace in covert ; went away with 
 a third over ye corner of ye Park piece to Badminton 
 Village, by ye green pond into ye Vicarage, nearly to 
 
 Woodwell Head. 
 
57 
 
 ye pleasure ground ; got in ye ditch, jumped out in 
 view, and soon killed. Three couple of hounds had 
 been left at Bodkin Wood. James Watts, the feeder, 
 got them away. Met a fox in Mr. Sydney's turnips. 
 Erankfort seized and nearly killed him ; took him home 
 alive. A single hound, aided by numerous bipeds, 
 caught another in ye Park piece, whilst trying to get in 
 a drain. Sent him back sound to Bodkin Wood. This 
 was an eventful and butchering day. Prince Leichten- 
 steinand Princess, Count Esterhazy, Baron Nieuman, &c., 
 out. I thought ye Princess Leichtenstein the finest 
 woman I ever saw, and handsome withal. 
 
 Wednesday, January 11th, 1843. — Iron Acton. 
 Eighteen couple dogs. Draw'd Parsons Wood, ye 
 Marl Pits, &c. No fox. Came on to Tate Eocks ; 
 drew ye Coombe, and both Brinsham coverts, and 
 Maple rudge. No fox. Got on a scent in Bays ; hunted 
 over ye Broad Trench ; got up to a brace of foxes in 
 Horton side. Hounds divided for a few minutes ; got 
 together, recrossed ye Trench, thro' Bays and Bed- 
 fords ; very quick over ye brook, and up ye hill nearly 
 to ye turnpike road, to ye left by Bird's Bush, crossing 
 ye road by Mr. Goodwyn's into ye vale below ; bore to 
 ye left thro' the Coombe, and over ye \rood again by 
 ye lime kiln at Yate Bocks, skirting ye lesser Brinsham 
 covert, to ye Maple rudge bushes ; to ye right and away, 
 at a good pace, across ye vale under Horton, nearly to 
 Chalkley ; bore a little to ye right, leaving ye old man- 
 sion and Horton Church close on ye right ; up ye hill, 
 thro' ye Walk Wood, and on for Bodkin Hazle, 
 running ye green lane nearly to ye end of ye covert, 
 just entered, and away over ye Bath road, thro' 
 Bodkin Wood, and on towards Little Badminton; 
 bore to the left, pointing for Swan Grove, was headed. 
 
58 
 
 back touching Bodkin Wood, near Petty France, and 
 back thro' ye Hazle. I viewed him from hence, some 
 distance, apparently in difficulty — ye hounds follow- 
 ing steadily thro' ye covert on his line, did not get 
 so quick away as I could have wished. On leaving 
 Chalkley on ye left, into ye vale again, when we had a 
 check of two or three minutes, hit off, and went a good 
 pace over ye lower end of Hawkesbury Common into 
 Littley, and up ye woods to ye further end of Maple 
 rudge, back along ye covert towards Bays. 1 here 
 viewed ye fox away, and was damped to find we had 
 changed our fox ; hunted down into Bays, and stopped 
 ye hounds. Yery good day's sport — worth 1000 o£ your 
 10, 19, or 15 minutes' skurries to a lover of hunting. 
 Mr. Campbell, Mr. J. Bailey, and Mr. R. Kingscote 
 went as well or rather better than any other ; Mr. 
 Campbell screaming in raptures as we got near Bodkin 
 Hazle. Blood only was wanting to render this run all 
 that could be wished by a sportsman. 
 
 C.(Chas. Bridges) 
 Gamecock 
 Miss Tree 
 
 (Long) L. (Stansby) S. 
 
 Milkman Marion 
 
 Archduke Etonian 
 
 1845. — This season we have an addition to our 
 country of Stoke Gilford coverts, &c., conceded by Earl 
 Eitzhardinge. Though some of them ye Duke of Beau- 
 fort's property, they have been hitherto a part of ye 
 Berkeley hunt. Eood Ashton, near Troubridge, also 
 belonging to Walter Long, Esq., and hitherto hunted 
 by Mr. Horlock, is now to be hunted by the Duke of 
 Beaufort. 
 
 There was an immense quantity of corn grown this 
 year. The spring was everything that could be desired ; 
 crops most luxuriant; in fact, I believe most people 
 will admit that they never remember to have seen the 
 
59 
 
 land so heavily covered with both hay and corn. Ye 
 early hay harvest was good, but the July month was 
 very wet and cold, and also the first week in August ; 
 and there is yet (although ye bulk of corn is housed in 
 ye best possible condition) a good deal of wheat and 
 barley not only in ye field, but uncut. (September 23rd.) 
 Beans are famous crops. Nuts plentiful ; acorns scarce. 
 Potatoes infested with a disease throughout ye country, 
 and ye price of corn kept up in consequence. 
 
 When I was a lad in the stables at Calke, in 
 1817, 1818, 1819, on the door of a passage, 
 in the N.E. corner of the stable yard, were 
 the jDlates of several race-horses nailed to the door, and 
 a name under each. I think there were five of them. 
 I remember one of Dairymaid, one of Mixbury, one of 
 Juniper, and one of the famous Skewball. The names 
 were cut in the wood, apparently with a knife ; and I 
 fancied these horses must have stood in this stable, and 
 belonged to the Sir Harry Harpur, Bart., of that day ; and 
 I used to look on the plates with considerable interest, 
 and longed to know something about them. Many 
 years after, and far away from Calke, I heard several 
 times a doggerel song in praise of Skewball. I used 
 to listen to it attentively, as it recalled to my memory 
 the plate with his name on the old door where I strapped 
 many an hour with a wet shirt. Since then I found the 
 following in the Sporting Magazine of May, 1834 : — 
 "Skewball foaled in 1741. Bred by the Earl of 
 Grodolphin. Sold to Sir Harry Harpur, Bart., at whose 
 death he was purchased by Lord Eobert Sutton 
 Manners. His next master was Mr. Elston, who dis- 
 posed of him to Arthur Mervin, Esq., who raced him in 
 Ireland, where he beat Sir Ealph Gore's grey mare by 
 
60 
 
 Victorious over the Curragh of Kildare for 300 guineas 
 each, and was also the winner of a great number of plates 
 and prizes. 
 
 June, 1843. — William Collins, of Badminton, labourer, 
 aged 83 years, hearty, having the use of all his faculties, 
 and working on ye road, tells me he can remember 
 when foxes were destroyed at Badminton, ye keepers 
 being paid for it ; that ye Duke of that day kept stag 
 hounds and harriers, and that the deer were penned at 
 Oldham-on-the-Hill. That he remembers all ye hunts- 
 men, as under : — 
 
 Baldwin ) 
 
 Wilts J- Stag hounds, &c. 
 
 Hellier J 
 Crane (began keeping foxhounds — a heavy man). 
 Kench. Alderton. Dilworth. 
 
 Philip Payne. William Long. 
 
 Then followed the 8th Duke of Beaufort and William 
 Stansby, Thomas Clarke in 1858, and left somewhat 
 suddenly before the close of the season 1867 — 1868. 
 The Marquis of Worcester then took the horn. 
 
 ^<f. 
 
61 
 
 A LEGEND OE GALWAY. 
 
 Erom tlie gorse of Ahascragli* the hounds broke away, 
 "With the " grey fox " on foot and a warm scenting day. 
 The cracks of Roscommon are here, and they swear. 
 Come life or come death, to beat Valentine Maher. f 
 
 He's last thro' the clay and the deep of the vale, 
 Not seen at the gap in the third post and rail ; 
 And, still with the lead, the Boscommons ask, " where 
 Is the pride of your country, bold Valentine Maher 1 " 
 
 Then, smiling aside, the old huntsman spoke low, 
 
 '* With the grey fox on foot we've a day's work to do ; 
 
 You'll have nerves of the strongest, nor steel must you 
 
 spare 
 If you ride to the finish with Valentine Maher." 
 
 All the while his hot chestnut was chafing in vain, 
 Till the foam from her nostrils speck'd breastplate and rein 
 But cool, as at first, " take your time, never care ; 
 We'll catch 'em yet, Kathleen," said Valentine Maher. 
 
 * Ahascragh, Lord Clonbrock's place in Galway. 
 
 " Many thanks for sending me the Legend of Galway. The lines read 
 very spirited, and make one fancy a bygone delusion, viz., chancing it at a 
 rasper. Valentme Maher carries me back to the days of my childhood. 
 I recollect so well when he came to stay with my father at Stapleford, and 
 after that he came to Glaston on his way to Newmarket, making his journey 
 to the turf metropolis on foot. 
 
 " Sir Thomas Whichcote, Jan., 1884." 
 
 + Valentine Maher, of Turtulla, Co. Tipperary, and M.P. for that County. 
 Born 1780 ; died 1844, unmarried. 
 
 "One of the leading men on these occasions (viz., "larking") is Mr. 
 Maher, a brilliant performer with hounds ; but without hounds, in Leicester- 
 shire, few men have a chance with him, from his perfect knowledge of the 
 country. On the Widmerpool day, of which I have been speaking, he led about 
 a dozen of them a dance ot upwards of nine miles, over a beautiful country, 
 in little more than half an hour."— Nimrod, in Sporting Magazine, 1825. 
 
62 
 
 They near'd the Black Kiver, they heard its dull roar — 
 They mark'd the thick mist-wreaths that brood on its 
 
 shore ; 
 When his laugh, close behind them, rang cheery and 
 
 clear — 
 " Here's food for the fishes," quoth Valentine Maher. 
 
 While they stood on the bank, and the boldest held 
 
 breath 
 As he gazed on the torrent, three fathoms beneath ; 
 When the best of E/Oscommon drew rein in despair, 
 With a rush to the front came Valentine Maher. 
 
 He called upon Kathleen — one snort and one spring, 
 She clove thro' the air like a swallow on wing. 
 He turn'd in his saddle — " now, follow who dare ! 
 I ride for my country," quoth Valentine Maher. 
 
 The hounds left the valley — they strain'd up the hill — 
 But one rider remains, and he sticks to them still. 
 They check'd on the brow of Kilconnel, and there. 
 To turn them and cast them, was Valentine Maher. 
 
 Where the coverts of pine over A.thenry frown. 
 Within one mile of home, the grey fox was pulled down ; 
 And rock, hill, and valley sent back the death cheer. 
 As they rang to the halloo of Valentine Maher. 
 
 So we'll drink with nine cheers to the old county's breed — 
 To the blood in the veins of both rider and steed ; 
 And here's, " The next time that Roscommon shall dare 
 Go straight across Gal way with Valentine Maher !" 
 
 Atjthoji of "Gut Livingstone." 
 
63 
 
 THE LOVER'S LEAP. 
 
 Quid Fcemina Possit. 
 
 Well, tliougli I love not boasting, 
 
 Sith all will have it so, 
 You shall hear how we left the field behind 
 
 A score of years ago. 
 
 Time will unclasp his fetters, 
 
 And age grow young once more, 
 When we think of all that was dared and done 
 
 In the mad days of yore. 
 
 But, first fill up another cup 
 
 Till o'er the mantled brim. 
 Sweet as the dew of a red ripe lip, 
 
 The glittering bubbles swim : 
 
 "To the loving and the lov'd" we'll drink, 
 
 " The frank, the kind, the bold ; 
 To all warm living hearts, and those 
 
 That never till death were cold." 
 
 'Twas a dull November morning. 
 
 South wind and cloudy sky. 
 When, if scent were ever certain, 
 
 A fox was doom'd to die. 
 
 We met at Bolton Thicket, 
 
 That never blank was drawn ; 
 Eresh lies the scene before me now 
 
 As it were but yester'-morn. 
 
64 
 
 Ten acres of copse, on a gentle slope, 
 
 By a belt of gorse surrounded ; 
 All grass, as far as the eye could reach, 
 
 By the low, blue hill-line bounded. 
 
 That day my mount was Thunderbolt, 
 
 Of black Prunella's breed, 
 Who, thro' toil and peril never yet 
 
 Had fail'd me at my need ; 
 With strength for the deep, and wind for the down. 
 
 With a racing turn of speed. 
 
 Ere long a challenge and a cheer 
 
 Came floating down the wind, 
 'Twas Mermaid's note, and the huntsman's voice — 
 
 We knew it was a find. 
 The dull air woke as from a trance, 
 
 As sixty hounds joined chorus ; 
 And away we went, with a stout dog fox 
 
 Not a furlong's length before us. 
 
 A quiver shot through my strong horse 
 
 I'rom his hoof to his swelling crest, 
 As a stout ship thrusts the waves aside, 
 
 Thro' the meaner crowd he prest. 
 Till he took the place that was his by right, 
 
 And we settled down in the foremost flight 
 To hold our own with the best. 
 
 The sight of a hound or the sound of a horn 
 
 Warms my old blood even now, 
 And this was when the tide of youth 
 
 Ran foaming at its flow — 
 No trifle in those merry days 
 
 Turn'd me and my peers I trow ! 
 
65 
 
 Yet a shudder, such as cowards feel, 
 Thro' my very marrow crept, 
 
 When I saw a feuce that cross'd our line, 
 As down the hill we swept : 
 
 And well the firmest cheek might blanch, 
 
 The sternest courage fail 
 At the bullfinch, with its yawning drain, 
 
 A deep drop iuto a stony lane, 
 And a four-foot oaken rail. 
 
 Each look'd on each, till thus spoke out 
 
 The Nestor of our band, 
 A veteran of war and chase 
 
 Who rode at my right hand : 
 
 " The churl who yonder man-trap laid 
 
 By an ill-death may he fall ! 
 If the fox has headed across the road 
 
 The hounds will leave us all ; 
 !For a tougher brush it were to face 
 
 Ton blackthorn's venomed spears. 
 Than ever we had in the olden time 
 
 With Kellermann's cuirassiers. 
 
 In the pasture just below us 
 
 A knot of gazers stood, 
 Whose eyes had never left us 
 
 Since we broke from Bolton Wood. 
 The best blood of two counties 
 
 Made up that bright array, 
 And there the queen of all our hearts 
 
 Sate on her fiery grey. 
 
(16 
 
 Hither and thither rode the field. 
 
 Seeking an easier place — 
 I, too, had turned me, when I met 
 
 My mistress face to face : 
 I bounded in my seat like one 
 
 Death-stricken thro' the brain — 
 Sweet wife ! the bliss of after years 
 
 Scarce paid that instant's pain. 
 
 There was scorn upon her curling lip, 
 
 In her dark eyes angry flame, 
 On the marble of her polish 'd brow 
 
 Red rose the flush of shame. 
 
 The veriest dastard had grown brave 
 
 There — face to face with her : 
 I bit my lip through as I wheel'd, 
 
 And drove home either spur. 
 
 Sprang to the steel old Thunderbolt, 
 
 And snorted savagely ; 
 The blood-gouts dripp'd from his dusky sides 
 
 Like rain from a low'ring sky : 
 I felt .as I rusli'd him at the fence 
 
 He was as wild as I. 
 
 Then came, too late, a warning shriek, 
 
 And then such crackling sound 
 As echoes through a burning house 
 
 When beams are splint'ring round. 
 
 But o'er crash and cry, rose clear and high 
 The voice well loved and known, 
 
 Though not a silver note was strain'd — 
 *' O Charlie ! bravely done.'' 
 
Of six score men, there was but one 
 
 To follow where I led — 
 Good faith ! his daring cost him dear, 
 
 For as I turn'd my head, 
 He was writhing 'neath his mare, who lay 
 
 With a broken neck, stone dead. 
 
 No time to pause, for over the meads 
 v\ e swept, with a scent breast-high; 
 
 Six more good miles we carried it on, 
 The brave bitch pack and I. 
 
 And when we turned him up, my cheer. 
 
 Borne on the rising wind. 
 Came faintly to the nearmost ear, 
 
 A long half league behind. 
 
 'Twas a cold November evening, 
 
 And the homeward way was dreary ; 
 
 For a score of miles before us lay. 
 And man and horse were weary. 
 
 But my heart was warm as I thought of the smile 
 
 That my return would greet, 
 When she heard the story of the day, 
 
 With its trophy at her feet. 
 
 Atjthoe of " Guy Livingstone." 
 
68 
 
 THE CHAELTON HUNT. 
 
 Some years since, in an old farm-lionse at Euntington, 
 in West Sussex, a precious document was discovered, 
 relating to the Charlton Hunt, and consisting of a man- 
 uscript account of a run with the hounds. Commencing 
 with a heading, it is as follows : — 
 
 "A rULL AND IMPARTIAL ACCOUNT OF THE 31EMAEKABLE 
 
 CHASE AT Charlton, on Eridat, 26th Jan., 1738. 
 
 " Present in the morning : the Duke of Eichmond, 
 the Duchess of Eichmond, Duke of St. Albans, Lord 
 Harcourt,the Lord Henry Beauclerk, the Lord Ossulston, 
 Sir Harry Liddell, Brigadier Henry Hawley, Ralph 
 Jennison, Master of His Majesty's buckhounds, Edward 
 Pauncefoot, Esq., William Earquhar, Esq., Cornet Philip 
 Honey wood, Eichard Biddulph, Esq., Charles Biddulph, 
 Esq., Mr. St. Paul, Mr. Johnson, Billy Ives, yeoman 
 pricker to His Majesty's hounds, David Briggs and 
 Mnn Ives, whippers-in. 
 
 " At a quarter before eight in the morning the fox 
 was found in East Dean Wood, and ran an hour in that 
 cover, then in the Eorest up to Puntice Copse, through 
 Heringdean to the Marlows, to Covey Coppice, back to 
 the Marlows, to the Eorest West Gate, over the Holds 
 to Nightingale Bottom, to Cobden's Draught, up his 
 Pine Pit Hanger, where his Grace of St. Albans got a 
 fall; through West Dean Eorest to the corner of Collar 
 Down (where Lord Harcourt blew his first horse), 
 crossed the Hackney-place Down, the length of Colney 
 Coppice, through the Marlows to Heringdean, into the 
 Eorest and Puntice Coppice, East Dean Wood, through 
 the lower Teglease, across by Cocking Course, down 
 
69 
 
 between Graffham and Woolavington ; through Mr. 
 Orme's park and paddock, over the heath to Fielding's 
 Furzes, to the Hurlands, Selham, Ambersham, through 
 Todham Furzes, over Todham Heath, almost to Cow- 
 dray Park, there turned to the limeldln at the end of 
 Cocking Causeway, through Cocking Park and Furzes, 
 there crossed the road, and up the hills between Bepton 
 and Cocking. Here the unfortunate Lord Harcourt's 
 second horse felt the effects of long legs and a sudden 
 steep. The best thing that belonged to him was his 
 saddle, which my lord had secured ; but by bleeding 
 and Geneva (contrary to Act of Parhament), he re- 
 covered, and was with some difficulty got home. Here 
 Mr. Farquhar's humanity claims your regard, who 
 kindly sympathised with my lord in his misfortunes, and 
 had not powder to go beyond him. At the bottom of 
 Cocking Warren the hounds turned to the left, across 
 the road, by the barn, near Heringdean, then took the 
 side to the north gate of the Forest (here General 
 Hawley thought it prudent to change his horse for a true 
 blue that staid up the hills. Billy Ives also took a horse 
 of Sir Harry Liddell) ; went quite through the Forest ; 
 went through the Warren above West Dean (where we 
 dropped Sir Harry Liddell), through Goodwood Park 
 (here the Duke of Richmond chose to send three lame 
 horses back to Charlton, and took Saucy Face and Sir 
 William, that were luckily at Goodwood ; from there, 
 at a distance, Lord Harry was seen driving his horse 
 before him to Charlton). The hounds went out at the 
 upper end of the park, over Strettington road, by Scaly 
 Coppice (where his Grace of Eichmond got a summerset), 
 through Halnaker Park, over Halnaker Hill, to Seabeach 
 Farm (here the master of the staghounds, Cornet 
 Honeywood, Tom Johnson, and Mnn Ives, were 
 
70 
 
 thoroughly satisfied), up Long Down, through Eartham 
 Common i'ields,and Kemp's HighWoods (here Billy Ives 
 hired his second horse, and took Sir AVilliam, by which 
 the Duke of St. Albans had no greatcoat, so returned to 
 Charlton). From Kemp's High Wood the hounds took 
 away through Gun worth Warren, Kent Eough Piece, 
 over Slindon down to Madehurst Parsonage (where 
 Billy came in with them), over Poor Down up to Made- 
 hurst, then down to Houghton Porest, where his Grace 
 o£ Eichmond, General Hawley, and Mr. Pouncefoot 
 came in (the latter to little purpose, for, beyond the 
 E,ace Hill, neither Mr. Pauncefoot nor his horse, Tinker, 
 cared to go, so wisely returned to his impatient friends) ; 
 up the Race Hill, left Sherwood on the right hand, 
 crossed Offham Hill to South wood ; from thence to South 
 Stoke, to the wall of Arundel Kiver, where the glorious 
 twenty-three hounds put an end to the campaign, and 
 killed an old bitch fox, ten minutes before six. Billy 
 Ives, his Grace of Bichmond, and General Hawley, were 
 the only persons in at the death, to the immortal honour 
 of seventeen stone, and at least as many campaigns." 
 
 The Charlton Hunt came to an end, and the kennel 
 was removed for a short time to Goodwood, afterwards 
 to Petworth, whose owner, Lord Leconfield; is still the 
 M.F.H. of his locality. 
 
 H. E. I]!^ " FOEESTEY." 
 
 HUNTING SONG FOE THE TEAK 1824. 
 
 I am a jolly huntsman, and rise before 'tis day; 
 Let loose my dogs, and mount my horse, and halloo 
 come away. 
 
 And a hunting we will go. 
 
71 
 
 Of all our fond diversions a hunter's is the best ; 
 
 In spite of wars and party jars the sport is to the test. 
 
 Brisk action cures the vapours, th' elFects of lazy sloth, 
 And music makes us cheerful, so hunting 's good for both. 
 
 Of Nimrod and of Esau what mighty feats they tell — 
 On foot they followed hunting, they loved the sport so 
 well. 
 
 Had Dido not loved hunting, the amorous Trojan brave 
 Her Highness ne'er had solaced in Juno's friendly cave. 
 
 Eurypides ! had hunting been minded like thy books 
 The hounds had ne'er devoured thee — they know a 
 sportsman's looks ; 
 
 And hadst thou, brave ActEeon, have minded but thy game , 
 Thou ne'er hadst paid so dearly for peeping at the same. 
 
 Orion, foolish hunter, lured by a petticoat. 
 
 In the mid chase he loitered, and so his fate he got. 
 
 But after this disaster he 's made a heavenly sign, 
 That he at least may view the sport he can no longer join. 
 
 The British King 's* a hunter, and frequent in the chase ; 
 He minds no more than we do a weather-beaten face. 
 
 Then fill your sparkling glasses, and take them off with 
 
 glee— 
 
 " Here "s to all brother sportsmen, in course His 
 
 Majesty." a j i .. 
 
 And a hunting we will go. 
 
 Sporting Magazine, 1825. 
 
 * King George the Third. 
 
72 
 
 A EUN WJTH THE S. O., 
 And a woed on Paesons hunting. 
 
 It was, I believe, in November, 1873, (when I was 
 clergyman at Albury, and possessed of an old roaring 
 dun mare, a capital fencer, but not particularly fast,) 
 that the hounds met at the Three Pigeons, one of their 
 Monday meets. It was in my parish, and I always went 
 to the meet when they met in the parish. 
 
 We had a little run in the morning, and about one 
 o'clock got away with a big fox from Fernhill, a cover 
 which was just opposite my house, and had some strong 
 earths. I knew this old fox, having seen him about on 
 the glebe. The foxes used to come all round my house. 
 I have had them after the fowl at eleven o'clock in the 
 middle of the day — the fowl all flying on the roof of the 
 house — and quite late in the day. There was a fox in 
 the stable yard one evening about eight o'clock. I 
 generally had a litter in my own plantation near the 
 church. The big fox crossed the rail close under Albury, 
 across the Draycot and Waterstock Meadows, crossed 
 the river Thames under Waterperry House (Mr. 
 Henley's) — the field crossing by Waterstock Bridge — 
 and so into Waterperry Wood, by Park Farm ; crossed 
 the road into Hell Copse, and so into the quarters. 
 I went down to the corner of the big wood, Shabbing- 
 ton Wood, towards Worminghall village, and while 
 standing there with Mr. Bull, of Albury, saw something 
 go away two fields off". I rode as hard as I could for a 
 better view, but though I was almost sure it was a fox, 
 dare not halloa without being certain. After waiting 
 about ten minutes or a quarter of an hour, the hounds 
 came down on his line — the field soon got round after 
 
the hounds, for we got away very slowly, the fox having 
 been gone so long, and well we did ; for, after crossing 
 the Oakley and Worminghall road, the fences were very 
 big, one or two being boreable and not jiimpable; but 
 alter leaving Oakley on the left, the scent improved in 
 the big grass meadows under Brill, and we had to gallop 
 to keep with hounds. What beautiful meadows those 
 are ! We crossed the Chilton and Dorton road, close to 
 Dorton, and down to the Chearsley brook, where there 
 Y^as a good deal of grief. I and three others were riding 
 rather wide on the right, and we had it at a good place. 
 George Castle first, Lady Adelaide Parker second, a 
 man on a cob third, and I fourth. I could see it was 
 something big by the way George Castle and Lady 
 Adelaide went at it. My dear old father got in higher 
 up on Baronet, an old horse he had bought of Lord 
 Macclesfield, and which Lady Adelaide rode for six sea- 
 sons ; and he then had a post rail, which he rode at three 
 times before he got over. Colonel Ruck Keene told me 
 afterwards that he halloed to my father, " I hope I shall 
 ride like that when I am your age." And so to 
 Chearsley Gorse, where we did not check above two or 
 three minutes ; back over almost the same line to the 
 brook — but this time nearer the bridge to Chearsley 
 village — which I believe nearly all went over, and then 
 up the hill to Chilton village very fast, the hounds 
 almost racing away from us. 1 remember going up one 
 fence, looking for a weak place, but it kept getting 
 bigger, and at last I turned at it in despair, my father 
 following. He said afterwards it was a very big place. 
 We checked at Chilton village for a minute or two, and 
 then ran on to Chinkwell Wood, under Brill Hill, where 
 they lost him, going to ground, I think. 
 
74 
 
 The distance from the woods was not so very great, 
 and we may very likely have changed in them ; but the 
 hounds never ceased running after leaving Fernhill. 
 My dear old father did not leave Oxford very early, and 
 just came up as we were getting away. How he did 
 enjoy it. He would sometimes come out for half a day 
 in the afternoon, having his horse to meet him at the 
 door of the schools (the old schools under the Bodleian 
 library). Old Baronet was then eighteen, and went 
 well. Lord Macclesfield said that day, " If I had known 
 he could go like that, you never should have had him." 
 My father had him for three years, but he fell and broke 
 two of his ribs, larking in Wytham Park, over some of 
 Lord Norrey s' made-up fences, and then he came to me for 
 three years more, and taught my wife to ride, before he 
 went to his old home at the kennels. 
 
 The distance from Fernhill to Chinkwell Wood, as 
 we ran, is about 15^ miles by the ordnance map, but 
 from the corner of Shabbington Wood to Chinkwell, 
 about nine miles, via Chearsley and Chilton, and this 
 was the best of the run. It does not look much upon 
 paper, but it was over a beautiful line of country, and 
 the hounds, after the first mile, ran very fast. The only 
 bit of plough I remember was between Chearsley and 
 Chilton, coming back. In going to Chearsley we ran 
 to the north of Chilton village, and coming back to the 
 south. It is so long ago I can hardly remember who 
 was out, but I remember Jack Thompson was at the 
 corner of Chearsley cover when I got there ; and I 
 remember one of the Parkers — Algy, I think — giving the 
 field a lead over a rail under Waterperry in the first 
 part of the run. Prank Davenport was always there or 
 thereabouts, going slow at his fences, till he retired to 
 Mexico. Prank Gale, Fred Turrill, and the four 
 
75 
 
 Castles, made up the hard riding division of the farmers. 
 Mr. Herbert Parsons, Colonel Kuck Keene, and Willy 
 Ashhurst, were out that day. Lord Macclesfield was 
 hunting the hounds as usual ; Garsden, kennel hunts- 
 man and first whip ; Charley Shepherd (the present 
 kennel huntsman), second whip. 
 
 Garsden always seemed to take it rather easily in the 
 field, and Lord Macclesfield and Charley did the most of 
 the work. But I remember one day, when his lordship 
 was out in 1872, Garsden and Charley, with Jack Thomp- 
 son as field manager, did just about push them along. 
 I had then a pupil not all there, wlio wanted careful 
 handling, and who sometimes would do nothing, and 
 you could make do nothing. He was in one of those 
 fits that morning, so I put my man in a chair in the 
 hall to look after him, he being up in his room, and got 
 on my horse. I just caught the hounds going away 
 from Hell Copse. There were three couple running 
 another fox, which I foolishly tried to stop ; for I have 
 found by experience it is not much good for a stranger 
 to try and stop hounds by himself. The hounds ran 
 through Horton Wood, and came away by Bechley for 
 the top of Stow Wood (where I caught them), then by 
 Barton village, under Headington, and ran to ground 
 under Shotover, after rising the hill — Jack Thomjoson 
 and Frank Davenport well to the fore all the time. We 
 did not wait a moment after he had gone to ground, 
 but w^ent straight back to the quarters where we had 
 left the three couple; found them still running; got 
 away at the corner of Shabbington Wood, through Oak- 
 ley village, under Brill, and killed him in the open 
 under Dorton. I got a bad start again from Shabbing- 
 ton Wood, and did not know they were away till I saw 
 Garsden's grey horse going away three fields off*, and 
 had to ride to catch them ; but as luck had it I was in 
 
76 
 
 at the death, the hounds turning in my favour, and saw 
 them catch him in a hedgerow, along with Charlie, Gars- 
 den, Jack Thompson, and Frank Davenport. It was a 
 capital day's sport How Jack did ride and bustle 
 along that day. My horse was nearly beat. 
 
 May I say a word about parsons hunting ? A 
 man has no right to neglect his parish, or run into debt, 
 but if he can hunt without doing either of these things, 
 I cannot see the harm. Since I married I have, for 
 pecuniary reasons, given up hunting, but I am quite 
 sure of this, that neither my pupils or my parish are so 
 well looked after as when I hunted. I lack energy. 
 Hunting does put such life into you. The energy that 
 you have to use in hunting seems to pervade all your 
 other work. My dear father, H. O. Coxe, Bodley's 
 librarian, and rector of Wytham, always had a few half- 
 days every season, and no man ever worked harder or 
 was more loved in his generation. I cannot think it 
 wrong. I do think it wrong to run into debt, and, 
 therefore, I find an oak walking-stick cheaper to keep 
 than a hunter, and the bootmaker's bill less than the 
 blacksmith's. 
 
 HiLGEOVE Coxe, 
 
 Jan. 28th, 1884. 
 
 THE OLD HOUND. 
 
 My brave old hound, my bonny old hound, 
 
 Here's a health, here's a health to thee ! 
 And as years roll round mayest thou still be found 
 
 Alongside in the chase with me. 
 Many's the day we have hunted away. 
 
 And many's the track we have set ; 
 And now I am told that thou art grown old — 
 
 But there 's life in the old Hound yet. 
 
How oft has thy voice made the hunters rejoice, 
 
 When its deep mellow notes were heard, 
 For well did they know that thy startled i'oe 
 
 Must go his best pace on the sward. 
 Thou hast followed the chase with untiring pace 
 
 From morn till the sun has set ; 
 Thou hast lain at my feet when thy heart scarcely beat — 
 
 But there's life in the old Hound yet. 
 
 Once did I think, when on the steep brink 
 
 Of a dark shining rock thou stood. 
 That thy race was run, that thy life was done, 
 
 As thou leaped o'er the yawning flood : 
 When thou fell on the rocks with the beaten fox 
 
 I thought a hard fate thou hadst met, 
 But we found thee below with thy conquered foe — 
 
 Aye ! and life in the old Hound yet ! 
 
 Thy coat is now grey, and thy strength doth decay, 
 
 But thy heart is as brave and as true 
 As when first we went forth on the hills in the north 
 
 In pursuit of the fleet-footed crew. 
 Men are to be found who would kill the old Hound, 
 
 And his long years of service forget ; 
 But a hand I'll ne'er lend to destroy my old friend, 
 
 While there 's life in the old Hound yet. 
 
 There 's many a lass I have loved is dead. 
 
 And many a friend grown old. 
 And unless with thee to the woodlands led 
 
 This weary heart grows cold. 
 But as o'er hill and dale I fly. 
 
 With thy voice to madden my brain, 
 All, all 's forgot as to thee I cry, 
 
 " Toicks ! have at him, old Hound, again ! " 
 
 From LoKD Febrees. 
 
78 
 
 THE DATS WHEN I RODE WITH THE 
 OUORN. 
 
 O ! bright are the fancies, and sweet the regrets, 
 
 That arise at the sound of the horn ; 
 The friends of my youth, and the years of my fun, 
 
 The days when I rode with the Quorn. 
 
 When I cantered away on the quickest of hacks 
 
 To Six Hills so late in the morn, 
 And hunted unwearied o'er pasture and plough, 
 
 "What sport we had then with the Quorn ! 
 
 What stories were told of the deeds of Tom Smith, 
 Of the time ere Lord Stamford was born ; 
 
 We talked of Sir Eichard, and followed the Earl, 
 In the days when I rode with the Quorn. 
 
 How Treadwell would gloat o'er an oxer or brook ; 
 
 We, boy-like, the obstacles scorn ; 
 How we fell and got up, and were never the worse, 
 
 In the days when I rode with the Quorn. 
 
 Were the horses then really so stout and so good ? 
 
 The covers of thicker blackthorn ? 
 The hounds truer-tongued, and the foxes more straight. 
 
 In the days when I rode with the Quorn ? 
 
 And when we came back into JVIelton at night. 
 
 Tired, happy, and draggled, and torn. 
 Were the ladies then really more lovely and kind 
 
 Than those who now ride with the Quorn ? 
 
79 
 
 Ah ! youth, make the most of your day while it lasts — 
 
 No sunset can equal the dawn ! 
 I'd barter ten years of a peaceable life 
 
 For a day when I rode with the Quorn ! 
 
 " Old SpoRTSMAif," 
 In Baily's Magazine, March, 1884. 
 
 A FEAGMENT. 
 
 Though the life-blood of Beauty with terror may curdle 
 
 While brooding o'er risks which the sportsman must 
 run, 
 Now imagines him lying in state on a hurdle. 
 
 And turns but with sighs from the trophies he's won ; 
 Yet, when England at tyrants would level defiance, 
 
 Say what makes her sons so undauntedly bleed? 
 'Tis the chase — 'tis the study of this noble science 
 
 Gives spirit, and vigour, and health to the breed. 
 
 Yarvicexsis. 
 
 THOUGHTS ON HUNTING. 
 
 BY AN OLD HOTJND. 
 
 It is some years now since Mills wrote the " Life of a 
 Foxhound," no doubt from authentic sources, and gave 
 to the outer world some of those thoughts, feelings, and 
 instincts which are freely passed to and fro within the 
 kennel walls, though they seldom reach the world 
 beyond. Times have changed since then ; and it may 
 
so 
 
 not be uninteresting to those who would aspire to the 
 name of sportsmen to know what we, who are certainly 
 the parties most interested in the chase, think of the 
 changes which have been introduced. Being somewhat 
 young and inexperienced myself, I will not presume to 
 give my own ideas on the subject, but fiiithluUy record 
 a conversation I had with a wise old hound who had 
 seen many countries, during one of the hot days of the 
 past month. He had come to our kennel, situated in a 
 rare sporting but somewhat rural country, as Nimrod 
 would have termed it, the autumn before, from the 
 grass, for which I have my own suspicions he was getting 
 rather slow, although he never would own to it, and 
 consequently was looked up to with respect, and treated as 
 an authority by all of us — an honour he well deserved, 
 not only on account of his high Hneage, but also for his 
 really excellent qualities ; for once or t\\ ice during the 
 preceding season he had set us right when our fox was 
 nearly lost, and been the means of killing him. 
 
 Our huntsman, as was his wont, had walked out with 
 us in the park, and allowed us an hour of thorough 
 enjoyment, rolling in the short crisp turf, or stretched 
 under the shade of the stately elms ; when, seeing old 
 Rally wood was not disposed for his usual nap, I ven- 
 tured to ask if he did not think hunting in our land of 
 ploughs and big woods a very tame affair in comparison 
 with \\ hat he had been accustomed to on the grass. 
 
 " Why, no, youngster," was his reply ; *' though, I tell 
 you, I did not much like the thought of exchanging 
 
 N for D shire, and quite intended the first 
 
 day I was taken out to give the lot the slip, and make 
 the best of my way back to my old kennels. I was so 
 pleased with the fun (you remember it was a rare 
 scenting day) and the sportsmanlike behaviour of 
 
81 
 
 master, huntsman, and field, that I determined to stop 
 and have a httle more of it, and, as you see, here I am 
 stiU." 
 
 " But it must be much better fun running over the 
 grass than toiling along, all mud and wet, in our greasy 
 fallows, often with not scent enough to enable you to 
 hold the line ?" 
 
 " You are quite right there ; and on some days, when 
 there is nothing to interfere with us, the sport is 
 glorious. I remember one day in particular, when we 
 slipped away from every one, in a dense fog that sud- 
 denly came over, and killed our fox after forty minutes 
 without a check or crossing a yard of plough ; but then 
 such a thing may not happen once in hounds' lifetime, and 
 as a rule after cub-hunting is over, we seldom have any 
 real fun — at least such is my experience. I like to hunt, 
 and nothing disgusts me more than having to gallop 
 about after the huntsman's horse, without being allowed 
 to put my nose down, and the constant danger of being 
 half laid open by the whipper-in's thong if I try to do 
 so. However, I never let that hinder me. And once 
 having slipped through a big ox-fence out of the way, 
 that young Jack Mas afraid to charge after me, I hit off 
 the line, and, with two couple and a half more that 
 came to me, had a good three-quarters of an hour, and 
 pulled down our fox, while A¥ill, the huntsman, was 
 galloping and halloaing right in the opposite direction, 
 and, after having ridden his horse nearly to a standstill, 
 blew his horn at a rabbit burrow, and swore the fox he 
 had lost six miles back was gone to ground. Not that 
 Will is a bad fellow, and I believe he would like to see 
 us hunt ; but then he is vain of his riding, and, as it is 
 the fashion for all the swells to ride at him and try to 
 cut him down, he soon loses his head, and thinks more 
 
82 
 
 of his horse than his hounds. On one occasion both he 
 and his field lost the pack entirely through jealousy, and 
 were staring about on the top of a hill to know where 
 we were gone ; at the time we were quietly eating our 
 fox in a hollow a mile behind them. Then the men 
 who come out on the grass are, many of them, a great 
 nuisance, and often have I been prevented making a hit 
 by fifty or sixty pounding up a green lane, and then, 
 seeing they had got too forward, pulling up in the very 
 spot the fox had crossed. In fact, I hardly know 
 which are the most tiresome to hounds, the hard riders 
 or the shirkers ; for one party drives them over the 
 scent, and the other cuts them ofi" and foils it. Again, 
 the danger to hounds in the grass countries is not to be 
 lightly estimated ; and if you think that one half the field 
 would alter their line at a fence because a hound was in 
 the way, you are very much mistaken. Then, half of 
 them are not so particular about the horses they ride as 
 every one who hunts ought to be, and I, in my first 
 season, was left for dead from a kick received from a 
 celebrated grey. Kick hounds or horses either he 
 would if he had the chance, and no doubt you will 
 wonder why his owner, who was really a good sports- 
 man, continued to ride him ; but he was the best water- 
 jumper in the hunt. I do not say, mind you, that there 
 are not first-rate sportsmen, and many of them, in the 
 shires — in fact, you would find more good sportsmen at a 
 meet there than anywhere: but they are so largely 
 leavened with those who are not sportsmen — men who 
 go out because it 's the fashion — men who go out to 
 show their horses, or their boots, or to ride against each 
 other — that it becomes, in the regular season, anything 
 but a paradise for hounds. 
 
 " Why, I once knew a man gallop and halloa like a 
 maniac, to get us on to a fresh fox that jumped up from 
 
83 
 
 a hedgerow where our hunted one had turned short, 
 although anyone half asleep might have seen the differ- 
 ence in them ; and thus he got up the heads of my 
 companions, and lost us our reward of blood, which was 
 nearly earned after a cold hunting run of over an hour- 
 and-a-half. Then I had a fellow throw down the end 
 of a stinking cigar just as I was feathering on the line 
 past him up a lane, and the vile smell so affected me, 
 that I could not hunt a yard for the rest of the day. 
 I beheve I could have killed our fox had it not been for 
 him. Another — and, I believe, he wrote as an authority 
 on hunting— said that my poor old sister Eeckless ought to 
 be hung when she got home, because she stuck persistently 
 to the line of her hunted fox when all the rest had given it 
 up, and he wanted to go and find another. However, 
 as I told you before, there are real good men who 
 understand us, our instincts, and our ways; such, for 
 instance, as M or T , but they want elbow- 
 room on the grass. Now, here you have small fields, 
 and, as far as I can see, every man who goes to meet 
 hounds is a sportsman. Our huntsman, it is true, does 
 not ride so hard as Will, and I have seen him get off 
 at a big bank, or make for a gate, when a little more 
 quickness on his part, and the sound of the horn on the 
 right sj>ot, at the right moment, would have put us on 
 better terms with our fox (for he never deceives 
 us, and when he does tootle, it is always a saving 
 of time to fly to the sound at once) ; but then 
 these are sins of omission, and he never loses 
 a fox for us by unnecessary interference. Then, 
 look at our master ; his object is neither to jump 
 the biggest fences or race for twenty minutes ; but he 
 likes to see his fox well found, well hunted, and 
 handsomely killed. He knows where and how to draw 
 
84 
 
 so as to give us the best chance of finding ; and if you 
 hear his horn or holloa, you may swear it is gospel. 
 And, as you know, last season, Tom, the second whip, 
 was sacked, at a few minutes' notice, for punishing a 
 hound unnecessarily, and when it was plain that the 
 hound was right and the man wrong. No, no, young- 
 ster, you be contented here ; the grass must have been 
 a perfect elysium for hounds in the old days, when 
 Meynell hunted from the borders of the Pytchley to 
 JSTottingham, and fields were small, and composed of 
 only sportsmen ; but the day is gone, the shires are the 
 fashion, and a reasonable hound, who knows what sport 
 is and hunting ought to be, is better out of a fashionable 
 crowd than in it. 
 
 " Then, look at your country here : plenty of heathy 
 which carries a scent second only — if second at all — to 
 grass ; no game to distract the attention of the young 
 ones, and cause them to ' eat stick ' before they really 
 know what to hunt, chase, and avoid ; and, above all, 
 those magnificent hills and gulleys, which form no 
 impediment to us, but stop those brutes of horses, whose 
 greatest enjoyment, I firmly believe, is to gallop our 
 sterns ofil Think of the glorious bursts we have ' all 
 alone,' while they are toiling and straining under their 
 burdens up the miry, slippery hill-sides, and be thank- 
 ful that there is no chance of your having a broken back 
 because A has determined to be through that bull- 
 finch before B . Then, besides our master, hunts- 
 men, and whips, all of whom are heart and soul in 
 hunting, and think more of our work than their horses' 
 fencing, have we not that glorious old parson J. E-. to 
 help us out of a dead lift when no one else is handy ? 
 and no man in England knows better how to do it. 
 Now, youngster, don't ask any more questions, for I 
 am sleepy." N. 
 
 Baily's Magazine. 
 
85 
 
 THE HILL'S WOOD UVN WITH THE BERKELEY 
 HOUNDS, 
 
 25th of January, 1864. 
 
 Have you heard of tlie run with the fam'd Berkeley pack ? 
 Of all our good things you'll admit 'twas the crack. 
 Our meet was at Kineton, and Thornbury Park 
 Held a fox who meant going, if need be, till dark ; 
 And crossing the grounds, in his enemies' view, 
 Eor twenty-five minutes straight onward he flew. 
 The Colonel (i) rides first down a bank wide and steep 
 On " Charcoal" (who doesn't mean going to sleep) ; 
 Next the Huntsman, (2) whose cap is knock'd off and 
 
 nigh stamp'd on — 
 Never mind, we are sailing away for Bockhampton. 
 Very few get a start, but, whoever they be. 
 Their number soon after increases by three: — 
 Three Nimrods, who late at their breakfast did tarry, 
 (xot a "Nick" that conducted them straight to " Old 
 
 Harry !" 
 For this fox we however now failed in our search — 
 P'r'aps a sanctum he found in the woods of the church.(3) 
 Now return'd from the Severn all ready we stood. 
 While the pack is preparing to rattle Hill's Wood. 
 Hark, a crash ! they're away ! thro' the park is his line — 
 A fair start, and no favour for your horse or mine ; 
 Thro' Stone's verdant meadows right onwards we sail, 
 Those meadows describ'd as the Cream of the Yale. 
 On to Tortworth we press'd him without hesitation, 
 And foUow'd our fox thro' the belt of plantation ; 
 
 1. Colonel Berkeley, now Lord Fitzhardinge. 
 
 2. The huntsman, Harry Ayris. 
 
 3. Church Wood, a covert near Rockhampton. 
 
86 
 
 But Tortworth's home coverts he gallantly spurns, 
 
 And ere we could reach him for Charfield he turns, 
 
 Cross the railway, and brook where most of the field 
 
 Still faintly pursuing, are destin'd to yield ; 
 
 Then forwards to Ozleworth's coverts he bore. 
 
 Where the hunting continues, tho' riding is o'er ; 
 
 Like leeches on flesh did the blood-thirsty pack 
 
 Up to Alderley hunt him, from Alderley, back ; 
 
 Till near Wotton's old town, brave reynard dead beaten, 
 
 Ean to ground in a drain, was dug out, and eaten — 
 
 And now, who went best ? Time fails me to tell 
 
 The separate deeds of each man that went well. 
 
 We had all (as the classics observe) " quantum suff," 
 
 Or in English, our horses had had quite enough. 
 
 For the fences were tall and the lawyers not short. 
 
 But one lawyer (4) disposed of them all (out of court) ; 
 
 For leaving the merits of blood in abeyance. 
 
 This lawj'^er possess'd a trustworthy conveyance. 
 
 I shall ever remember that huge equine figure — 
 
 May his shade ne'er grow less (it can never grow bigger). 
 
 No ladies enlivened the scene with their faces, 
 
 Which perhaps may account for the absence of" Graces;" 
 
 But a skirter from Hill's wood beholding us, said, 
 
 " Why, surely some Miles's (5) are some miles ahead !" 
 
 Tho' the Banker,(6) on " All Fours," exclaimed," What 
 
 a pity 
 These banlvs are not solid like those in the city ; 
 For tho' clever my horse is considered, by heavens 
 At one time ' All Fours ' was * all sixes and sevens.'" 
 Brave Charcoal (7) fell lame before reaching the goal. 
 But a Colonel (8) was there from a neighbouring Knole, 
 
 4. Edward Burges, Esq. 
 
 5. P. W. S. Miles, W. H. Miles, and R. H. Miles, Esqs. 
 
 6. W. H. Miles, on "All Fours," a favourite hunter. 
 
 7. " Charcoal," a favourite hunter of Colonel Berkeley's. 
 
 8. Colonel William, master of Knole Park. 
 
87 
 
 And you'll understand what I mean if I say, 
 
 That he rode in his usual masterly way ; 
 
 While we all must admit, that in quest of sly reynard, 
 
 There's no one rides straighter or lighter than Lennard.(9) 
 
 Then " a health to the pack " must conclude this long 
 
 letter, 
 Eor where is the country can show us a better ? 
 Where lives there an owner more popular ? where is 
 The huntsman to vie with the bold Harry Ayris ? 
 Long may Berkeley's wide coverts re-echo his voice, 
 And many such fox bid his old heart rejoice ! 
 And oft may he talk of the run from Hill's Wood, 
 Till the day when he shows us another as good. 
 That you, reader, and I may be there on that day, 
 Is the prayer of the man (lo) on the thoro' bred grey. 
 
 P. K. B. Oliphant. 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF THE EOX AT GOPSALL, 
 
 1868. 
 
 Not a halloa was heard, nor a blast of the horn, 
 
 As away thro' the cover he scurried ; 
 Not a bay from a hound, nor a who whoop was borne 
 
 O'er the grave where poor reynard we buried. 
 
 We buried him silently, holding our breath — 
 
 To sportsmen in future a warning ; 
 But murder will out, and his untimely death 
 
 Was known everywhere in the morning. 
 
 9. T. Lennard, Esq., of Bristol. 
 10. P. Kington Oliphant, Esq., (the author of the poem.) 
 
88 
 
 His skin was unrent, his bones were unbroke ; 
 
 We laid bim down just where he fell 
 None at first had the spirit to venture a joke, 
 
 Or laugh at so awful a sell. 
 
 Not loud but deep were the curses we said, 
 And our hearts were o'ercome with sorrow, 
 
 As we thought on the fox that before us lay dead, 
 And our hunt that was lost on the morrow. 
 
 We thought as we smoothed down his narrow bed, 
 
 And arranged each muscular limb. 
 That the horn of the huntsman might sound o'er his head, 
 
 But never in honour of him. 
 
 Loudly they'll talk of the deed that's been done, 
 
 And Appleby's * squire much abuse ; 
 And the people all round will be poking their fun, 
 
 As soon as they get at the news. 
 
 But scarcely our mournful task was done, 
 And we thought of resuming our firing, 
 
 When the vulpecide vowed he would give up his gun, 
 And homewards talked of retiring. 
 
 Slowly he left, amid many a sneer, 
 
 The field of his fame fresh and gory ; 
 Tho' oftered the brush, he declined with a tear, 
 
 Such a basely-earned trophy of glory. 
 
 MOEAL. 
 
 All ye who chance to read these lines, 
 
 This moral may espy : 
 If with old gentlemen you shoot, 
 
 Take care to wipe their eye. 
 
 Old George Moore, of Appleby, shot a fox accidentally. 
 From Col. J. Anstruther Thomson. 
 
 *George Moore, of Appleby. 
 
89 
 
 THE STABLE BOY. 
 
 Cima Eosa ! Yallombrosa ! Citron groves, sir ? 
 
 Songs ! Vines ! Joy ! 
 Grander far is High Leicestershire 
 
 To the heart of a Stable Boy. 
 
 I rise at dawn, nor feel forlorn. 
 
 But whistle for cheerful joy ; 
 I look on all other pursuits with scorn, 
 
 Because I'm a Stable Boy. 
 
 All people that on earth do dwell 
 
 Hunt fallacies that cloy : 
 Oh ! let them learn the way to do well 
 
 Is to copy the Stable Boy. 
 
 Drop ostentation and fiddle de dee. 
 
 Drop worries that annoy. 
 And set you down at the Coplow, free 
 
 Like a true born Stable Boy. 
 
 Pictures, and gems, and bric-a-brac stuff, 
 
 And every other toy — 
 Sell all, and buy a clean thoro' bred horse, 
 
 For so would a Stable Boy. 
 
 Thomson and Tailby could sweat their brow 
 
 In zeal for others' joy, 
 And toiled as hard for "the Midland sport 
 
 As ever a Stable Boy. 
 
 Sent anonymously from Maeket Haeborough 
 
 TO Col. J. Ansteuthee Thomson, Nov., 1880. 
 
90 
 
 Lines weitten by Geoege Templer, of Stover, on 
 
 HIS GIVING UP THE SoUTH DeVON HoUNDS. 
 
 " MY OLD HOEN." 
 
 Tho' toil hath somewhat worn thy frame, 
 And time hath marred thy beauty, 
 
 Come forth, loved relic of my fame. 
 Thou well hast done thy duty. 
 
 Time was when other tongues would praise 
 Thy wavering notes of pleasure, 
 
 Now miser-like alone I gaze 
 On thee, a useless treasure. 
 
 Some hearts may prize thy music still, 
 But oh ! how changed the story 
 
 Since first Devonia felt the thrill 
 That roused her sporting glory. 
 
 Grace still in every vale abounds, 
 But one dear charm is wanting ; 
 
 No more I hear my gallant hounds 
 In chorus blithely chaunting. 
 
 And there my steed hath found a rest 
 
 Beneath the mountain heather, 
 That oft, like comrades sworn, we've prest 
 
 In pleasure's train together. 
 
 And some, who at thy call would wake, 
 Hath friendship long been weeping ; 
 
 A shriller note than mine must wake 
 Their deep and dreamless sleeping. 
 
91 
 
 I, too, the fading wreath resign, 
 jFor friends and fame are fleeting, 
 
 Around his * bolder brow to twine 
 AVhere younger blood is beating. 
 
 Henceforth be mute, my treasured horn, 
 Since time hath marred thy beauty, 
 
 And I, like thee, by toil am worn : 
 Thou well hast done thy duty. 
 
 "EOUSE, BOYS, EOUSE." 
 
 Rouse, boys, rouse, 'tis a fine hunting morning ; 
 Rouse, boys, rouse, and prepare for the chase ; 
 Let not the time fly that's spent in adorning, 
 But on to cover hie at a good pace. 
 
 There when you find, sir. 
 
 The country's divine, sir. 
 The fences are whackers, the brooks are not small ; 
 
 But w^ere they larger, sir, 
 
 Boldly we'd charge 'em, sir, 
 Nor care a farthing, sir, how oft we fall. 
 
 Now from the fox he is driven, sir : 
 
 Hark how the valleys re-echo the call ; 
 
 'Tis Osbaldeston's (i) voice reaching the heavens, boys, 
 
 Hallooing " forrard " loud as he can bawl. 
 
 Then there's such spluttering, 
 
 Spurting and sputtering, 
 Each one so anxious to be in the van ; 
 
 At the first rattling leap, 
 
 Ox-fence or field of deep. 
 Onward the good ones creep — catch them who can. 
 
 •The late Sir Walter Carew, of Haccombe, Devonshire. 
 I. G. Osbaldeston, the celebrated " Squire." 
 
92 
 
 White (2) on the "Wright," sir, is in the first flight, sir, 
 And quite out of sight, sir, of those in the rear ; 
 And with him goes Neville, and Berkeley, (3) that devil 
 Who of good or evil knows no hope or fear. 
 
 Molyneux strives at 
 
 What horse scarce dare rise at. 
 Bold Plymouth (4) bullfinches close at his side ; 
 
 Musgrave (5) on Antelope, 
 
 Baird (6) upon Jenny Hope, 
 Over the grassy slope forward they ride. 
 
 Coke (7) on the pony, sir, scarce has a crony, sir, 
 Standish has distanced the crowd very far ; 
 Whilst at a place, sir, that few men dare face, sir, 
 Without checking pace, sir, drives Valentine Maher. (8) 
 Prince of the heavy-weights, Tweedale, (9) is bruising; 
 Maxse, (10) on Cognac, cannot be beat; 
 Poor Johnny Campbell's (n) horse long since refusing, 
 In struggling convulsion fits, dies at his feet. 
 
 2. " That well-known performer over a country or over a course, Mr. 
 John White." 
 
 3. Sir Maurice Berkeley, afterwards Lord Fitzhardinge. 
 
 4. Lord Plymouth. 
 
 5. Sir James Musgrave. 
 
 6. Sir David Baird. 
 
 7. Mr. William Coke, of Norfolk, owner of "Advance." 
 
 8. Valentine Maher.— See Ante. 
 
 9. Lord Tweedale. 
 
 10. Mr. Maxse rode Cognac nine seasons. 
 
 11. Mr._ Campbell, of Saddell theauthor. He was riding a friend's horse, 
 and the animal having unfortunately died, Mr. Campbell, hoping to conceal 
 the disaster, begged the owner to put a price upon him, but the gentleman 
 declining to do so, Mr. Campbell was obliged to reveal the calamity. 
 
93 
 
 But our pace is the best, sir; the fox is hard prest, sir : 
 The hounds run with zest, sir^, heads up and sterns 
 
 down; 
 He can't reach yon cover ; no, no, 'tis all over — 
 Hark how the death-peahng tallies resound. 
 
 Dined — o'er our claret 
 
 We'll talk of the merit 
 Of ev'ry choice spirit that rode in this run ; 
 But here the crowd, sir, can be just as loud, sir, 
 As those who were foremost enjoying the fun. 
 Faster and faster they tell each disaster 
 Of bunglers and tumblers, and tailors who shun ; 
 
 While we drink round, sir, 
 
 And drink to these hounds, sir, 
 Who over such ground, sir, could show us such fun. 
 
 ON THE DEATH OE CAPT. BEEKELET'S 
 
 (ATTEEWAEDS SIE MAUEICE and lord riTZHAEDINGE) 
 
 HORSE. 
 
 He turned to take a last long look, the evening sky was 
 
 red. 
 The leading hounds already must have been two fields 
 
 ahead. 
 Their fox was sinking rapidly, the chase was nearly done. 
 And he had gone the best, the first, throughout that 
 
 glorious run ; 
 And then in sadness down he looked to where beside 
 
 him lay 
 The steed who'd borne his lord so well through all that 
 
 wondrous day ! 
 
94 
 
 That morn lie bounded fresk and fair, but now witbi 
 
 stony eye, 
 With nostril stretch'd, and heaving flank, he'd lain him 
 
 down to die ! 
 'Twill soon be o'er, just one short neigh, a quiver and a 
 
 groan, 
 His eye was set, his heart was full, 'twas thus he made 
 
 his moan : 
 
 And is it come to this at last, my own my gallant steed? 
 
 Although I see, 1 scarce believe that thou art dead 
 indeed. 
 
 And can it be that thou and I no more shall lead the 
 burst ? 
 
 No more cut down the customers, the fastest and the 
 first? 
 
 No more shall fly the biggest fence that thins the horse- 
 men's ranks ? 
 
 No more shall charge the widest brook, though brimming 
 to its banks ? 
 
 Oft, olt, for many a rapturous mile, throughout the live- 
 long day, 
 
 O'er many a field, o'er many a fence, we two have sailed 
 away ! 
 
 And now it almost breaks my heart to see thee lying 
 there. 
 
 To know I cannot help thee with my fondest, tenderest 
 care! 
 
 To feel that all is over, that thy bright career is past, 
 
 That spite thy form, and spite thy fame, this field has 
 been thy last ! 
 
95 
 
 Ijbought thee as a yearling, and the promise of thy youth 
 For stoutness, speed, and gentleness, was well fulfilled 
 
 in truth. 
 Right worthy of thy line, thy sire, whom o'er the 
 
 Beacon Course 
 Newmarket well remembers as a good and honest horse ; 
 Thy dam, whom legs and bookmakers all voted was a 
 
 hoax 
 Until at Epsom she came out, the winner of the Oaks. 
 And all their qualities were thine, unlike each meaner 
 
 steed 
 There was the pride of conscious power, the ease of 
 
 conscious speed; 
 Like them thou did'st not fret and chafe before hounds 
 
 went away, 
 But when the pace became severe, how far behind were 
 
 they! 
 
 Though high and strong the rails, on thee I needed not 
 
 to crane; 
 Though wide and deep the ditch might be, for thee it 
 
 gaped in vain ! 
 When horse and man were going down, though good 
 
 and stout they were ; 
 As if thy very feet were winged, thou'st borne me safe 
 
 and fair ! 
 When hounds were racing for their fox, fast running 
 
 into view. 
 Still was thy mettle high and keen, still was thine action 
 
 true. 
 Foxes may fly and hounds may run, and horses still will 
 
 tire, 
 Yet 'twas not so with thee, my steed, thou wast indeed 
 
 a flyer ! 
 
96 
 
 I'rom Tilton "Wood to Loddington the hills are wou- 
 
 drous steep. 
 The vale of Belvoir, too, we know, will oft ride 
 
 wondrous deep ; 
 Fences are strong at Skeffington, and Belton seldom fails 
 To give account of sobbing sides, lost shoes, and quiver- 
 ing tails. 
 From Barkby Holt to Stapleford, from Owston Wood 
 
 to Glen, 
 I'll think of many a glorious run we ne'er can see again. 
 I'll think how many a hunting morn I've mounted thee 
 
 in pride. 
 How many a dark December night we've plodded side 
 
 by side. 
 Seasons roll on, and years pass by, so life flits day by day. 
 And others, too, will bear me well, though thou art 
 
 passed away. 
 There'll still be music in the hounds, and pleasure in 
 
 the chase 
 When other limbs beneath me bound, and others fill 
 
 thy place ; 
 But often shall I think of thee, and oft regret in vain 
 The favourite one, whose like I ne'er can hope to ride 
 
 again. 
 
 THE FOKEMOST PLIGHT. 
 
 I am a jovial sportsman, as every man should be, 
 
 A hunting life and a country life is jnst the life for me. 
 
 Our ^horses and our hounds are such no other clime 
 
 can show, 
 For 'tis their delight, in the foremost flight, with a 
 
 flying fox to go. 
 
97 
 
 We are sucli plucky fellows we never fear a fall, 
 
 But boldly face the fence or gate, the spreading brook, 
 
 and wall ; 
 And those who crane or ride the lanes we hold are shy 
 
 and slow, 
 And wdll ne'er delight in the foremost flight hke birds 
 
 with us to go. 
 
 And when we greet the well-known meet we quickly 
 
 leave our hack, 
 And jump upon our hunter who is waiting with the 
 
 pack. 
 Then crash into the cover both hounds and huntsmen go. 
 [Line omitted.] 
 
 Hark there ! I hear a challenge ; it is old Music's note ! 
 A chorus joins — what joyous sounds now in the breezes 
 
 float. 
 " Hark ! halloa !" cries the whip, for he has heard the 
 
 huntsman blow — 
 The scent is good, and thro' the wood, by Jove ! how 
 
 they do go. 
 
 The huntsman cries, '•' Now, gently, pray hold hard, for 
 
 there he breaks, 
 And straight across the open now his line he boldly 
 
 takes : 
 He's fairly gone, so now we'll give a rattling tally-ho ; 
 And now we're right in the foremost flight, with a right 
 
 good start to go." 
 
And now for twenty minutes w^e have had a glorious 
 
 burst — 
 The pace begins to tell on them who yet have gone the 
 
 first. 
 A check — so now w^e'll take a pull, and let our horses 
 
 blow, 
 And set them right in the foremost flight again like 
 
 trumps to go. 
 
 " Hark, Eanter ! hark !" the huntsman cries. They hit 
 him off again — 
 
 A sheet would cover all the pack now racing o'er the 
 plain. 
 
 A view ! it is the hunted fox, I know by yonder crow, 
 
 For 'tis her delight in the foremost flight with a sink- 
 ing fox to go. 
 
 To reach yon distant cover, now, in vain game reynard 
 
 tries ; 
 Old Venom runs into him, and he gamely fighting dies. 
 " Who whoop !" now cries the huntsman, who late cried 
 
 "tally ho!" 
 Oh ! 'tis pure delight, in the foremost flight, in a run 
 
 like this to go. 
 
 " Here's fox-hunting and fox-hunters ! and may we 
 
 never trace 
 The man within old England's shores who would put 
 
 down the chase ; 
 For such a man at once I scan as British sportsman's foe. 
 Who still delight in the foremost flight like bricks and 
 
 trumps to go." 
 
 From Colonel Anstruthee Thomson. 
 
99 
 
 PATEICK'S BEAE SLAYING. 
 
 A PARODY. 
 
 Sing we how the mighty hunter, 
 He, the very strong man, Patrick, 
 Went to Norway at all seasons, 
 Crossed the North Sea in all weathers ; 
 Very sick was in the steamers, 
 Very cold was on the fjelds. 
 Very hot was in the valleys, 
 Very hungry, very dirty. 
 Sleeping in a reindeer skin bag, 
 SHding down the slopes in snow-shoes, 
 Sitting in hay-houses filthy, 
 Eating of the flad-brod flabby. 
 Dancing with Norwegian Piges, 
 Talking to the drengs and bonders ; 
 Walking, toihng, night and morning, 
 In the snow and in the sunshine 
 Of the great lone land o£ Norway, 
 Of that flea-infested clime. 
 
 Three long years the mighty hunter. 
 He, the very strong man, Patrick, 
 Went to Norway in this fashion, 
 Suffered all this pain and hardship, 
 Till his friends began to mock him. 
 Till the world began to jeer him, 
 Saying, " What a fool is Patrick ! 
 Almost like an idjot seems he." 
 
 Why did Patrick all these strange things ? 
 Why commit these wondrous follies. 
 Leaving home, and peace, and plenty, 
 Horses, hounds, and fields and woodlands. 
 
100 
 
 Deer and pheasants, game and foxes, 
 
 Beef to eat and Southdown mutton, 
 
 All that any man could wish for ? 
 
 Why ? because the bear, the " Feld-Kong," 
 
 He, the " gammel man," the " Bjorn," 
 
 Wandered free upon the fjeld, 
 
 Laughing at the drengs and bonders, 
 
 Taking sheep, and cows, and piges ; 
 
 Caring nothing for their shot guns. 
 
 For their shouts, and shrieks, and bowlings ; 
 
 Living as he did aforetime 
 
 In the days of song and saga, 
 
 King of all the beasts in INorway, 
 
 Fearing no man, royal " Feld-Kong." 
 
 This it was that Patrick pondered 
 
 Three long years in vain endeavour, 
 
 Face to face to meet the monster, 
 
 And with gun or rifle slay him. 
 
 So at last in Surendalen, 
 
 He, the gammel man, the Bjorn, 
 
 Killing lambs and biting tree-tops, 
 
 Came too near the mighty hunter. 
 
 Came too near the strong man, Patrick. 
 
 In a reindeer skin bag laid he, 
 
 On the fjeld two nights watched he. 
 
 Till at last the bear, unthinking. 
 
 Caring nought for dreng or bonder, 
 
 Came too near the wily Patrick — 
 
 Came and sat down chewing dead lamb, 
 
 Pawing up with joy the pieces 
 
 From the earth where he had laid them, 
 
 Till a shot, well aimed and steady, 
 
 Lowly laid the bear, the Bjorn ; 
 
101 
 
 Till his giant form rolled over, 
 And his red eyes glittered strangely, 
 And the hunting knife gleamed o'er him. 
 Ended were his wild adventures, 
 Ended all his thefts and murders. 
 And his gambolings ungainly. 
 Now his skin is Patrick's sofa, 
 And his head hangs up with honour 
 In the house where, sung in story, 
 All his feats will be remembered. 
 
 L. C. M., Jflt, 1882. 
 
 IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 " Great Hopes :" foaled 1854, died 1875. 
 
 Nay, reader, don't start at the title, 
 
 'Tis of only a horse — nothing more ; 
 Only one of the lower creation. 
 
 Whose loss 'tis my lot to deplore. 
 " Only a horse ! well, what matters ?" 
 
 Quoth Dives ; " 'tis done in a trice : 
 Draw a cheque — the best horse that e'er hunted 
 
 Can always be bought at a price." 
 
 Ah ! Dives, men envy your fortune, 
 
 Tou are floating through life with the stream ; 
 Tou have got twenty hunters at Melton, 
 
 And the pride of the Park is your team ; 
 But I want just to ask you a question, 
 
 So kindJy one moment attend : 
 Be it man, be it woman, or horse. 
 
 Can you ever replace an old friend ? 
 
102 
 
 Such a friend as we owe now and then 
 
 To the sympathies born of the chase ; 
 Eaising horse to the level of rider — 
 
 Such a friend we can never replace. 
 The box that stands empty and chill 
 
 May shelter as perfect a frame, 
 But 'twill always seem sacred to him — 
 
 'Twill always be called by his name. 
 
 Chesnut coat, sloping shoulders, small head ; 
 
 Legs that feared neither spavin nor sprains ; 
 A mudlark when going was deep, 
 
 With the blood of Small Hopes in his veins. 
 When Andover landed the Derby 
 
 The theme of my song first drew breath, 
 And, as good on the road as the grass. 
 
 Hunted up to the day of his death. 
 
 He had gone with the Queen's, when Charles Davis 
 
 With horn made the forest to ring ; 
 He remembered the bay Pantaloon, 
 
 Bestridden by bold Harry King. 
 Since the day of that clipper from Denham, 
 
 How many good men have departed, 
 When to Willesdon we ran in the hour. 
 
 And Harrow Boy first was uncarted. 
 
 Not unknown where the doubles of Blackmore 
 
 Lay many a steed on his back ; 
 He had followed Jack Eussell from Catstock 
 
 With Poltimore's wonderful pack. 
 How oft with old Sam and Sir Maurice 
 
 O'er Berkeley's green pastures he strode, 
 Heard the cheer of the keen Harry Ayris, 
 
 Best huntsman, I wot, that e'er rode. 
 
103 
 
 But dearest of all recollections — 
 
 Old days now recalled to my view — 
 Are those when we hunted together 
 
 In the land of the Badminton Blue : 
 The days of John Bayly and Triller ; 
 
 (What tales of their prowess are told !) 
 The days of the Merchant and Bobber; 
 
 The day ere grey Beckford was foaled ; 
 
 When the Unicorn stood by the Lion, 
 
 And Little was there on Champagne ; 
 When the Colonel was great on Blue Pill, 
 
 And Clark swore by Saffron and Jane ; 
 When Methuselah carried the Marquis 
 
 Thro' the longest and hardest of days ; 
 When Alderley's gallant old owner 
 
 Bode the first of his wonderful greys. 
 
 Unwelcome, perhaps, to the fair ones, 
 
 Is the tale of what seasons have flown, 
 Since they first donned the Badminton button. 
 
 And the " goddesses " yet were unknown : 
 Lady Blanche was the rising Diana, 
 
 And one figure remembered will be. 
 That skimmed o'er the country on "Sunbeam," 
 
 With Jack Savile in front on B. B. 
 
 "Woe worth," wrote Sir Walter, "the chase," 
 
 When he sung of the hunting that kills ; 
 Woe worth forty minutes' full pace. 
 
 From Allen Grove up to the hills. 
 'Twas my gallant old horse's last efiTort — 
 
 'Twas a mixture of pleasure and pain. 
 In that gallop where G-race's " blaze chesnut " 
 
 Jumped walls, and ne'er jumped them again. 
 
104 
 
 Farewell, gentle reader ! If you 
 
 These tales of past sport can endorse, 
 I will wish you no better than this, 
 
 That some day you may own such a horse. 
 His name is inscribed underneath ; 
 
 His years were one over a score ; 
 He was faithful and noble till death ; 
 
 His like I shall ride nevermore. 
 
 From Baily's Magazii^e. 
 
 A DAY WITH THE QUEEN'S HOUNDS, 
 Feom Poll Hill, Feb., 1843. 
 
 Here's a health to Frank Groodricke, (i) of Pytchley 
 
 the pride ; 
 Here's a health to gay G-ardner, (2) fam'd Melton's chief 
 
 crack ; 
 Here's a health to the high-hearted sportsmen who ride 
 Over Cheshire's deep fields with Jack White's (3) gallant 
 
 pack ; 
 
 Here's a health to the Scarlett (4) that gloriously shines 
 In the front of each field, where crack hunting is seen ; 
 But the toast that best honours a bumper of wine 
 Is " Success to the staghounds, and long live the Queen." 
 
 T-welve o'clock was the hour, the meet was Poll Hill — 
 Noble " Hampton" had long been reserved for that day ; 
 Close at hand stood the hounds, all expectant and still. 
 And thick gathered round them the brave and the gay. 
 
 Sir Francis Holyoake Goodricke. 2. Lord Gardner. 
 
 3. Captain John White. 4. Sir James Scarlett. 
 
105 
 
 There was Eosslyn, (5) the rough, with the kindest of 
 
 hearts ; 
 There was gallant young Cambridge, (6) the loved of the 
 
 land; 
 And, as beauty from valour and worth never parts, 
 Fair Theobald rode at the Prince's right hand. 
 
 There was Makepeace, (7) the merry, and Worley, the 
 
 neat, 
 Dicky Vyse, thro' the water that swims like a duck. 
 And blithe-hearted Seymour, (8) a sportsman complete, 
 Only somehow this season he is not in luck. 
 
 There was well-mounted Wankelyn, and hare-hunting 
 
 Poole ; 
 Little Harford was there, too, that thinks he can ride ; 
 Honest James, a true sportsman, courageous and cool ; 
 Long Cox, (9) and a hundred good fellows beside. 
 
 From Windsor, from Hounslow, came guardsmen at 
 
 score, 
 Bright souls never dimm'd with the vapours of fear ; 
 Lucas (10) and Ogilvie, Holmes and Balfour, 
 And E-icards, that thinks of himself no small beer. 
 
 Time's up ! lay them on — off like lightning they fly ! 
 Grrasps his rein, grips his saddle each hard-riding man ; 
 And loudly rings Davis's (u) voice thro' the sky, 
 ''Now catch 'em, ride over my beauties, who can." 
 
 5. Lord Rosslyn, master of the buckhounds. 
 
 6. The present Duke of Cambridge. 
 
 7. A leading man with the Queen's. 8. '* Neighbour Sej^mour." 
 
 g. The banker. 
 
 10. Lucas, 2nd Life Guards ; Ogilvie, ditto ; Balfour, of Newton Don. 
 
 II. Davis, the Queen's huntsman. 
 
106 
 
 Twenty minutes have passed — Harrow steeple is near — 
 And of the three hundred that met at Poll Hill, 
 Like a regiment that's broke by the foeman, I fear, 
 But thirty are left that can live the pace still. 
 
 In Euishp's deep meadows some come to a stand ; 
 By Pinner's high fences some find their course barr'd ; 
 And a loud swearing rustic, with pitchfork in hand, 
 Has pounded fat Hawkins fast in a farm yard. 
 
 " My horse lacks condition " — " Pve lost a fore shoe" — 
 " Our efforts to catch them are hopeless and vain ;" 
 " I really believe the best thing we can do 
 Is, in hopes of a check, to jog on in the lane." 
 
 Now Northolt, now Grreenford, are left far behind ; 
 Twyford Abbey we've reached in our glorious career. 
 Still unflagging in strength, still unfailing in wind, 
 Over hill, over dale flies the matchless old deer. 
 
 O Elmore ! (12) O Anderson ! how could ye say 
 Of the horses ye sold us the thing that was not ? 
 Piccadilly's proud cattle are dying away, 
 And TJxendon's flyers drop down to a trot. 
 
 Macdonough, (13) and Mason, and Bardolph-nosed Bean — 
 Of steeplechase riders at first we had plenty. 
 'Tis one thing to go for ten minutes, I ween ; 
 'Tis another to go for two hours and tw^enty. 
 
 Stout Stanley, (14) bold Errington, gallant Southampton, 
 Clauricarde, the dashing, and Pembroke, the kind, 
 Over Harrow's deep meadows in chase of fleet Hampton — 
 'Tis the pace that has left the foxhunters behind. 
 
 12. Elmore and Anderson, horse dealers. 
 13. Celebrated steeplechase riders. 14. Celebrated riders to hounds. 
 
107 
 
 'Tis done ! the brave quarry is hoiis'd safe and sound, 
 Eegent's Park to the long lasting chase puts an end ; 
 And of all the rare runs with this pack so renowned, 
 A faster and finer one never was penned. 
 
 l^i]l, fill up your glasses ; a toast I propose — 
 No heeltaps, no daylight, no shirking be seen ; 
 " Here's a health to Lord Kosslyn, wherever he goes ; 
 Here's success to the staghounds, and long live the 
 Queen." 
 
 From Col. Ansteuther Thomson. 
 
 HUNTINa IN DUEHAM. 
 
 Old fighting Durham ! stubborn border land ! 
 Leagued with thy sister, fair Northumberland ! 
 From thy time honour'd battlements we trace, 
 From blood to blood, an honour'd sportsman's race — 
 Thro' Grindon, Carlton, Hartburn, to Fox-hill, 
 The name of Lambton * is re-echoed still ! 
 
 If I could live one hundred thousand years 
 
 Amid this vale of sorrow and of tears, 
 
 Dash from my brow each cankering thought and be 
 
 What once I was, in youth and jollity ! 
 
 At all Fortuna's coldest, hardest knocks, 
 
 I'd sneer, if Hartburn Grange holds in her gorse a fox I 
 
 *The celebrated Ralph Lambton. 
 
108 
 
 Still as a whisper ! no d — d loud hollo ! 
 
 Nor cursed clodpole roaring, Tallyho ! 
 
 No, not one word ! Now then, ye hunters fleet ! 
 
 The hounds are on him like a winding sheet : 
 
 Kide o'er them ye who can ! their dappled sides ride over, 
 
 Burnhope and Elton, straight for Oxeye cover ! 
 
 For him the ox-eyed goddess hath no charm — 
 See, on the road the ruthless furies swarm 
 All in a patch ! just look ! nay, never wait — 
 Crash goes the top-bar of that ill-hung gate ! 
 By Jove ! they're on him, see old Venus strive — 
 Have at him, beauties ! Eive his life out, rive. 
 
 G. M. SlJTTON. 
 
 THE LAMBTON HOUNDS. 
 
 A SoKG. 
 Tune — ""Weave a G-aeland." 
 
 Tho' midnight her dark frowning mantle is spreading, 
 
 Yet time flies unheeded where Bacchus resides ; 
 Eill, fill then, your glasses, his power ne'er dreading. 
 
 And drink to the hounds o'er which Lambton presides ; 
 Tho' toast after toast with great glee has been given, 
 
 The highest top-sparkling bumper decides 
 That, for stoutness, pace, beauty, on this side of heaven, 
 
 Unrivalled the hounds o'er which Lambton presides ! 
 Then drink to the fox-hounds. 
 Those high-mettled fox-hounds ; 
 We'll drink to the hounds o'er which Lambton presides. 
 
109 
 
 Let Uckerby boast of the feats of the Kaby, 
 
 And Kavenscar tell what the Hur worth have done, 
 But the wide-spreading pastures of Sadberge can swear to 
 The brushes our fleet pack of fox -hounds have won : 
 Tben that Sedgefield, our country, all countries outvies, 
 sir, 
 The highest top sparkling bumper decides, 
 That we've foxes can fly, sir, or sinking must die, sir, 
 When pressed by the hounds o'er which Lambton 
 presides ! 
 
 Then drink to the fox-hounds, 
 Those high-mettled fox-hounds ; 
 We'll drink to the hounds o'er which Lambton presides. 
 
 Of their heart- bursting "flys" let the Leicestershire 
 tell us. 
 Their plains, their ox-fences, and that sort of stuff ; 
 But give me a day with the Sedgefield brave fellows, 
 
 Where horses ne'er flinch, or men cry 'hold, enough ;' 
 While the blood of Old Csssar our foxes can boast, sir. 
 
 May Lambton their only dread enemy be ; 
 And the green weaving whins of our covers my toast, sir — 
 Oh! the hounds and the blood of old Lambton for me! 
 Then drink to the foxhounds, 
 Those high-mettled foxhounds ; 
 We'll drink to the hounds o'er which Lambton presides. 
 
 G. M. SuTTON". 
 
 4g%^. 
 
110 
 
 A FEW GOOD EUNS WITH FEANK GILLAKD. 
 
 1871 to 1878. 
 
 February 15th. — Met at Croxton Park. A large 
 field assembled, and his Grace the Duke of Rutland gave 
 the order to draw Coston Covert ; and no sooner were 
 hounds put into it, than three or four foxes were afoot. 
 One bolder than the rest quickly went away southwards ; 
 the pack was not long in getting away after him, and it 
 soon became evident that there was a scent. Passing 
 just to the left of "Wymondham and Edmondthorpe, at a 
 rattling pace, we bore round for Woodwell Head, which 
 covert this good fox disdained to enter, leaving it to 
 our right hand, and the pace continued first-rate. We 
 were not long ere we reached Gunby Gorse, through it 
 like a shot, and from this point we made as straight 
 as we could go for Morkery Wood, no one going better 
 than the Duke, though there were many more in the front 
 rank. A few fields before reaching the North Eoad, 
 the hounds were in the same field with their fox, 
 and were gaining upon him so fast, that it looked 
 fifty to one upon a kill then and there ; and Custance, 
 the jockey, made so certain of it, he asked me for the 
 brush ; and reynard might have heard the request, for 
 he put on a spurt, and reached Morkery Wood in safety, 
 in which scent was not quite so good, which enabled 
 him to dodge about for forty or fifty minutes ; and as 
 there were fresh foxes seen, it was feared our run one 
 would beat the hounds, but they stuck to him, eventually 
 driving him out away past Mickley Wood to the east 
 corner of Witham Wood. Instead of entering it, this 
 cunning old customer ran along just on the outside 
 until reaching the south corner, and away over the 
 North Eoad by N. Witham, after which we were brought 
 
Ill 
 
 to slow hunting ; but with great perseverance on the 
 part of the hounds, we reached Gunby AYarren, where 
 we killed this stout fox, after running upwards of three 
 hours. 
 
 January 26th, 1872. — Met at Haverholme Priory. 
 An excellent day's sport — two good runs, both ending 
 with blood. The first run commenced from Eveden 
 Wood, ending at Swarby. This was a splendid gallop, 
 in which Sir Thomas Whichcote certainly had the best 
 of it. He was in front of a hard-riding field most of 
 the way, and, with but few, saw the pack run into their 
 fox. Time, forty-seven minutes ; distance, from point 
 to point, six miles — much further the way hounds ran. 
 Second gallop started from Osbournby Hill Top. Ean 
 to Aswarby Thorns, then in a backward direction as far 
 as Aswarby Park ; from thence straight away by Silk 
 Willoughby and Quarrington to Eauceby, when our 
 fox ran right away back on his foil to Aswarby Park, 
 and we killed him in the shrubbery by the gardens, thus 
 ending a fine day's sport. Time of this run, an hour 
 and twenty minutes. Sir Thomas Whichcote declared 
 it was the best day's sport he had seen for a great 
 number of years, and thought the first gallop the best 
 he had seen since Goosey's time. 
 
 January 14th, 1873.— Met at Bottesford. A fine 
 scenting day, which resulted in excellent sport. Our 
 first draw was Normanton little cover, and a fox being 
 at home, hounds were soon at work in good earnest ; 
 but in spite of this, reynard stuck to his snug covert for 
 five minutes, when away he went to the left of JS'orman- 
 ton village, after which he turned first one way and then 
 another, but all to no purpose, the pack was able to turn 
 
112 
 
 equally quick and sharp. On nearly reaching the 
 Debdales, the fox found out it was no use twisting 
 about any longer, so he shot away to the right, crossing 
 the Nottingham and Grantham railway, and over the 
 river Devon, and straight for Scrimshaw's mill, when he 
 suddenly changed his course by turning sharp round 
 past Muston, leaving it away to the left, re-crossed the 
 river Devon, on to and through Shipman's plantation, 
 close past Breeder Hills, when our fox was viewed by 
 the field only a field ahead of the hounds, and they 
 were not long then in racing into him ; caught him just 
 before reaching "Woolsthorpe wharf, thus ending as fast 
 a gallop as I ever saw, lasting thirty-five minutes. 
 Hounds did not require the least assistance from begin- 
 ning to the finish. As good a gallop as this was, it 
 proved only a pipe-opener for a fox, who was found at 
 Jericho, going straight away past Elton and Orston at 
 a pace quite fast enough over those ploughs for the 
 horses to keep with them. Getting on to the grass, 
 they raced on passed Thoroton, and forward to the 
 Coronation cover (Flintham), where we unfortunately 
 changed to a fresh fox, but scent being so good, and 
 our horses a bit pumped, nothing could be done to right 
 matters ; all we could do was to keep pegging away; and 
 on reaching the lied Lodge, a turn took us by Screveton 
 and Scarrington to Whatton, when it became dark; and 
 with difiiculty we succeeded in stopping hounds, thus 
 ending a real good and very hard day for both hounds 
 and horses. Mr. George Drummond was the only 
 gentleman to get to the end of this good run. 
 
 January 6th, 1875. — Met at Piper Hole. A fox 
 found at Clawson Thorns, did not give much sport; our 
 next was found at Harby Hills, and was run over the 
 
113 
 
 vale to Hose Gorse and lost. Sherbrooke's gorse was 
 then called upon, and it supplied us with a good stout 
 fox, who went away over the Smite as bold as a lion, and 
 getting a good start after him, hounds ran tremendously 
 hard for forty-five minutes, without a check. The line 
 which we ran was pretty straight as far as Widmerpool 
 New Inn, being just to the left of Hickling, and over 
 Hickling Standard, through Parson's Thorns without 
 dwelling, and straight for the New Inn. Then he 
 turned for Kinoulton Gorse, through it, and straight to 
 and through Owthorpe Borders to the JVJain Earths 
 (this was reached in the time above mentioned, viz., 
 forty-five minutes, and out of a large field very few 
 were to be seen with hounds, many coming to grief). 
 Fortunately hounds were stopped, and reynard then 
 made straight for Hoe Hill, but some boatmen on the 
 canal prevented him from going into the covert, and, 
 being only a field ahead, it seemed a certainty we should 
 kill him directly ; but this game fox struggled on field 
 after field, to the left of Eatcliffe, and then for Cotgrave 
 Gorse, and it being quite dark, we knew not what had 
 happened, whether hounds killed their fox, or ran him 
 to ground, but it was one or the other. We were 
 afterwards informed many of the Melton horses were 
 left out all night in the AVidmerpool country. 
 
 April 12th, 1876.— Belvoir. Splendid finale to the 
 season, on the Leicestershire side. Through a heavy 
 snowstorm we failed to do any good with a fox which 
 was found on Saltley Heath, but late in the afternoon 
 we found a good one in Bescaby Oaks, who first of all 
 took a turn over Croxton Park, when away he went past 
 Sproxton Thorns and Coston Village to Coston Covert, 
 and through it, without dwelling a moment. Up to this 
 
114 
 
 point the pace had not been very severe, though we always 
 had to keep pegging away ; but after getting clear of 
 the last-named covert, hounds raced past Wymondham, 
 then, bearing to the left, made for Woodwell Head, but 
 no dwelling there. By the time we galloped to the 
 south end, the pack was streaming away towards 
 Cottesmore Grorse, just skirted it, and ran round by 
 Teighj and killed near Edmondthorpe, thus making a good 
 finish to a capital run of something over two hours. 
 Distance, as the crow flies, from Croxton Park to 
 Cottesmore Gorse, is ten miles. Those whom I noticed 
 to the end were Miss Miles, (who was on a visit at 
 Belvoir Castle, and was riding a horse of his Grace's,) 
 Captain Longstafte, Mr. John Hardy, Mr. Turner 
 Farley, Mr. James Hutchinson, Captain King, and the 
 Rev. Mr. Mirehouse. 
 
 January 22nd, 1877. — Easton Hall. Eound at Easton 
 Wood, and ran a ring first of all round by Burton 
 Sleights and Stoke Park Wood, turning back to where 
 we found, and then changed to a fresh fox, who led us a 
 nice dance, or rather gave us a splendid run. He went 
 away much the same line as the first fox, but instead of 
 entering Stoke Park Wood, he skirted it, and crossed 
 over the railway, and away for Boothby — hounds run- 
 ning through like shots and away like a flock of pigeons 
 for Humby Woods, passing just to the right of them. 
 We rattled along and soon crossed the famous Lenton 
 Brook, and leaving the village to our right, we ran for 
 Keisby Wood, just running through the north corner, 
 when we were fairly landed in the finest country in the 
 Belvoir hunt, going as straight as we could go for 
 Aslackby village. A field or so before reaching it we 
 were in the same field with our fox, and it looked fifty 
 
115 
 
 to one on a kill then and there, but unfortunately a large 
 flock of sheep were running between the fox and the 
 pack, which not only prevented a view, but the sheep 
 molested the hounds by running all amongst them, 
 which enabled the fox to reach Aslackby village, and the 
 natives then took up the chase as long as they could 
 view him. This circumstance bothered us more than 
 the flock of sheep, and some minutes were lost before 
 we recovered the line, and when we did, hounds could 
 never do much more good ; still we hunted on by fits 
 and starts past Dowsby, and away over the Fen district 
 to within two miles of the I orty Foot. Distance, as 
 the crow flies, is not less than fourteen miles, and it is 
 impossible to run over a finer line of country. 
 
 March 17th, 1877.— Three Queens. The Heath 
 coverts all proved tenantless, but we found a good fox 
 at Buckminster, who made away over Saltby Heath, 
 thence by Wyville to Stoke Rochford Park, and from 
 thence away between Skilhngton and Woolsthorpe to 
 G-unby Warren, to ground. Some fields before reach- 
 ing this covert, we several times viewed our fox just 
 ahead of the pack, and he was dead beaten. Just at 
 this critical moment a very dark cloud passed over us, 
 when there was not a particle of scent, which enabled 
 reynard to reach the earths in safety. The time of 
 this good sporting run was an hour and forty-five 
 minutes ; distance, about fourteen miles. Lord Gran- 
 ville, Lord Wolverton, and Major Whyte-Melville were 
 out ; the latter gentleman expressed himself to me as 
 being very pleased with the sport. 
 
 December 12th, 1877.— The House, Melton Mow- 
 bray. This day will be remembered as the "Pink 
 
116 
 
 wedding day." His Grace arranged for the hounds to 
 meet in honour of the marriage of Mr. Cecil Samuda and 
 Miss Cecile Markham. The Duke of Rutland and , 
 members of the hunt went to church in hunting costume, 
 and after the grand ceremony and breakfast were over, 
 a very large field accompanied the i^ack to Burbidge's 
 cover, where a fox was found, who proved quite equal 
 to the occasion. A crowd of foot-hunters had stationed 
 themselves on the high ground overlooking the cover, 
 and bold reynard swam the river and ran through their 
 very midst. Once clear of them he ran a bee line, with 
 the hounds pretty close to his brush, away b}' Burton 
 Lazars, Berry Gorse, Laxton's Spinney, crossed the 
 Whissendine brook, and passed just to the right of the 
 village, and from thence, forward nearly to Ranksboro' 
 Gorse, then wheeled round, running by the Punch Bowl 
 and Wheat Hill planting. Here there were two or three 
 foxes, but the pack stuck to their game fox, who made 
 his way back by Wild's Lodge and Burton, to ground, 
 by the Dalby Road near Melton. Time, an hour and 
 fifty-three minutes ; a good sporting run. 
 
 March 6th, 1878. — Ash Wednesday. Met at Piper 
 Hole. In a gale of wind we ran a fox from Holwell 
 Mouth at a rattling pace, away over the vale, and passed 
 to the right of Nether Broughton, and forward for some 
 distance in a direct line for Hickling, when we wheeled 
 round, running between the two Broughtons, and 
 nearly reached Old Dalby, when a turn, right 
 handed, took us over the hill ; after which, we took a 
 straight line for Willoughby-on-the- Wolds, killing our 
 fox close to the village. Time, one hour after leaving 
 Holwell Mouth. 
 
 On Ash Wednesday, 1867 — From Clawson Thorns 
 we ran over nearly the same line of country, and then 
 killed close to Willoughby. 
 
117 
 
 March 29th, 1878.— Met at Weaver's Lodge. For 
 the first time this season his Grace hunted with his 
 hounds on the Lincolnshire side of the country, and we 
 were lucky enough to have a real good hunting run, 
 which was quite unexpected through the very dry 
 weather. There were no less than two and a half brace 
 of foxes at Newton Woods, and, strange to say, the 
 one I viewed away in front of the pack, I remarked, 
 was our Hose Gorse fox, who had, during the season, 
 given us three nice gallops from that cover, in the 
 direction of Croxton Park ; and it appears I was right, 
 for he ran almost a straight line for Croxton Park, 
 though he ran us out of scent between Wyville and 
 Stoke Pasture. The line was away through Haydon's 
 Southings, Ropsley Pvise, Ponton Park wood, crossing 
 the Great Northern Railway between the Pontons, and 
 passing to the left of the school Plats to where he beat 
 us. Distance, eleven miles as the crow flies. 
 
 P. GiLLAED. 
 
 A SEASON'S SPORT WITH THE QUOKN. 
 
 T o covert, brave sportsmen, on on, and away ! 
 H ark ! hark ! to the cry of the hounds ! 
 E ach one in his musical note seems to say : 
 
 Q uick ! for'ard, my comrades ! we mean it to-day, 
 
 TJ ntil the death holloa resounds ! 
 
 O ne shake of his toilet, the bold, but the sly 
 
 R eynard takes up the cue, and he sails — 
 
 N ow to bafile and beat them his hardest he'll try. 
 
 H ave at him, my beauties, as onward we fly 
 O ver hedges and ditches and rails ; 
 U p hill or down dale, through woodlands, o'er rill, 
 N matter what comes in the line, 
 D your best to be with 'em, your motto be still, 
 " S traight forward " to the ending of time ! 
 
118 
 
 The season of 1883-4 commenced on Monday, 
 November 5th, at Kirbj Gate, as nsual. There was, 
 as may be expected, a large field out, and many carriages 
 and other vehicles well filled, all bent on seeing as much 
 of the fun as possible. Fortune invariably favours the 
 Kirby Gate meet, and this was no exception, for a good 
 fox was found in Gartree Hill, who went away like wild- 
 fire, at a minute's notice, over the Burton flats, 
 then round to the right by Leesthorpe, Wheathill 
 spinney, and into the shrubberies at Little Dalby, where 
 many of the sportsmen were left, this being such an awk- 
 ward place to get away from on account of the wire 
 fencing which runs around it. Hounds were quickly 
 away, and hunted their fox beautifully back by Wheat- 
 hills, Berry Gorse, and on past Whissendine, thence by 
 Ashwell (having ran within a few fields of !Ranksborough 
 Gorse) to Teigh, where he was rolled over in among the 
 cabbages in a cottage garden, after a really nice run of 
 an hour and twenty minutes. Being a long way in the 
 Cottesmore country, we had a good trot back for another 
 draw. A sharp twenty minutes from Thorpe Trussells, 
 ending the day close to Mr. Chaplin's house at Burrow 
 Hills. 
 
 On Friday, November 16th. — Baggrave Hall. The 
 first time of meeting here since the lamented death of 
 poor General Burnaby. A leash of foxes were in the 
 covert ; hounds quickly killed one, and went away with 
 another — being close at him, they ran, at an awful pace, 
 a ring by Hungerton and back ; then, passing the hall, 
 took us over a nice line of country, by Thimble Hall, and, 
 leaving Twyford on the right, crossed the brook (which 
 brought the usual fun and grief), and then ran pretty 
 direct to Thorpe Trussells, away without dwelling a 
 
119 
 
 second, and then, turning to the left hand, they ran 
 through Ashby Pastures and Cream Grorse, the fox going 
 to ground just beyond. Time, forty-five minutes. 
 
 Priday, 23rd. — Eearsby was the fixture. After a 
 gallop in the morning to ground, we found as good a fox 
 as ever ran in Barkby Holt, and such a scent did he 
 leave, that hounds quickly ran away from almost every 
 horse. He was a wonderful fine fox, and could be 
 plainly seen now and then about a couple of fields ahead. 
 Kunning to the right of South Croxton, he turned up to 
 Baggrave, and, darting through the covert like a shot, 
 he passed the hall, hounds racing as if they had him all 
 the time in view, and everyone riding apparently for 
 their very lives ; in fact, I hardly ever remember seeing 
 a field so determined and yet so quickly squandered. 
 The beautiful grass valley by Car Bridge and Lowesby 
 was crossed at a terrific pace, and when Springfield 
 Hill was reached, a half-dozen horsemen alone were in 
 sight. It is my belief that foxes were changed here, 
 for there was a shght check on the railroad, down which 
 I fancy our fox had gone, but a holloa just ahead took 
 hounds to it, and, catching up the line, they ran past 
 Tilton, thence by the Skeffington Vale and Whatborough 
 Hill to the Cottesmore Woodlands, just before reaching 
 which we found that a brace of foxes were in front, and 
 both fresh ones, so this fine run ended without blood. 
 Time altogether, about an hour, the first half being much 
 the quickest. 
 
 Monday, 3rd December. — Six Hills. A nice gallop, 
 from Ella's Gorse to ground in Shoby Scholes occupying 
 the first part of the day; after which, we went to 
 Thrussington Wolds ; found at once, and had a charm- 
 
120 
 
 ing fifty minutes, killing him in the open near Long 
 Clawson; the line being first towards Six Hills, then 
 sharp to the right towards Shoby and Lord Aylesfiard's 
 covert, keeping both just on the right hand ; and after 
 pointing towards Grimstone, a turn to the left took us 
 by Old Dalby Wood and Holwell Mouth, and up to the 
 Clawson road, where our fox was headed and turned 
 into the Vale — not, however, to travel far over it, for 
 he was dead beat, and hounds getting a view quickly 
 after, rent his jacket. 
 
 A very fine hunting run was brought ofif on Saturday, 
 December 22nd, when the fixture was Costock. The 
 meet itself was a small one, but late comers, including 
 several ladies and gentlemen from Nottingham, made 
 up a good-sized field ere a fox was found. Among those 
 present, as far as I can now remember, were Mr. Coup- 
 land and Mr. Duncan Coupland, Miss Brooks (Whatton), 
 General Chippendall, Mr. Wm. Paget, Mr. C. and Mr. 
 A. Martin, Mr. J. D. Cradock, Capt. Fowke, Mr. and 
 Miss Tidmas, Capt. O'Neal, Major Eobertson, Mr. 
 Cockrayne, Mr. G. Farnham, Captain Warner, Mr. H. 
 and Mr. M. Lewis, of Nottingham, also Mr. John 
 Robinson and his son, who went wonderfully well 
 through the run, and saw almost as much of it as anyone. 
 
 Our fox was found in Bunney Old Wood, and went 
 first towards Windmill Hill, but, being headed (and 
 nearly killed) he turned back, and got clear away to the 
 Intake Wood, then, without dwelling a second, made 
 his point towards Wysall. Mr. Charles Martin, viewing 
 him away, said, " what a very fine fox he was." Turning 
 to the right from Wysall, hounds hunted him beautifully 
 pretty direct to Prestwold, taking Wymeswold in the 
 line. On getting to within a field of Hoton covert, a 
 
121 
 
 very sHort and peculiar turn was made (it being near here 
 that Major Eobertson, in jumping through a thorn fence, 
 unfortunately got struck in the face, and lost an eye in 
 consequence). The turn mentioned took us short back 
 for two or three fields towards Ella's Gorse, then another 
 turn to the right took us slowly on by Burton — scent at 
 this time being bad, hounds had to keep their noses 
 down to make it out until after passing Walton Thorns, 
 Mr. Cradock's ash spinney, and reaching Mr. Coupland's 
 farm at Six Hills. A brace of foxes were immediately 
 after this in front of us, and it was impossible to tell 
 whether we went on with the right one or not. Scent 
 all at once improved, and the pace was really good for the 
 next thirty minutes. Old Dal by being kept a field or two 
 on the right hand, we pretty quickly reached Broughton 
 station, near where the railroad was crossed, and hounds 
 pointed for Curates Gorse. This latter covert was kept 
 some little distance on the left, while the pack swept 
 gaily on, with not more than two or three followers any- 
 where near. I may mention, the field began to tail 
 the moment hounds increased the pace on Mr. Coup- 
 land's farm, and I never saw a whipper-in afterwards ! 
 After crossing the Broughton road, on the right of the 
 Curate, hounds dipped into the valley, then, swinging 
 round to the left, soon climbed the hill of Hickling 
 Standard, and passed on the very edge of Parson's 
 Thorns, but not a hound entered, the hne being carried 
 on towards Kinoulton Gorse ; but about midway between 
 the two they (the hounds) turned to the right, and the 
 two villages of Hickling and Kinoulton were passed and 
 left behind. Soon after this my hopes were raised very 
 high, for I saw the fox, with his back up, not more than 
 a field ahead, and not unnaturally the thought of a 
 speedy termination, with a glorious kill in the open, at 
 
122 
 
 once crossed my mind ; this, however, was not to be, 
 although we kept close at him for some time yet to come. 
 He having crossed the canal by the swing bridge, I was 
 put off the line for a few valuable moments by two 
 labouring men, who said they were quite sure he had 
 not gone over ; and, as another instance of how little 
 notice should be taken of such people, the fox had 
 crossed under their very feet, and they had not seen 
 him. Immediately after this I got another view at him, 
 crossing a stubble field, and luck was again against me, 
 for Mr. Coupland, who would no doubt have been a 
 great help, got a very nasty fall over a stile, and was 
 prevented coming on for some little time. At the 
 next road hounds again checked, the fox having ran 
 down it for some distance, and some traffic being 
 between him and the hounds, made it more difficult for 
 them to own the line. Three or four fields further on, 
 and the canal was again reached, at a very sharp turn 
 which there is in it. Up to this the fox had ran, but, 
 instead of swimming over, had turned short to the left 
 along the towing path, on which he kept for perhaps a 
 half-mile. Directly after leaving this, the Smite crossed 
 our line, and, in addition to the brook itself, there was 
 a fence on the landing side, which made it almost im- 
 possible to jump at that end of the day. Having a quick 
 eye, Mr. A. Martin soon saw a place where the rail on 
 the far bank could be broken, and the brook being 
 narrowish just here, we landed over safely, and pounded 
 along after hounds, who were running again very 
 smartly now in the direction of Kaye Wood, and eventu- 
 ally passed it close by the keeper's house. Keeping a 
 straight course we were not long in reaching Colston 
 Bassett, where the fox had been seen two minutes 
 
123 
 
 before, and dead beaten ; still he managed to struggle 
 on, and at Langar darkness was coming on at such a 
 pace that it was found impossible to continue the pur- 
 suit; and however richly hounds deserved their fox, 
 they had to be stopped, and come home without him, 
 after hunting him for three hours and forty minutes in 
 the most persevering manner possible. Although the 
 longest point would not be more than thirteen miles, 
 the country crossed would not measiu'e less than t\^-enty- 
 three, and this all grass, with the exception of ten or 
 twelve fields, and one covert only touched, viz., Mr. 
 Cradock's ash spinney, near Six Hills, near where it is 
 most likely foxes were changed. 
 
 A short description may be given of a very long run 
 which took place on Monday, Dec. 31st, when the meet 
 was at Widmerpool New Inn. There was a good- 
 sized field out, and the favourite covert, Curates Grorse, 
 was the order, where we at once found. Going away 
 by the meeting place, our fox then turned to the left, 
 and ran parallel with the Fosse road as far as Willoughby, 
 then bearing to the left, re-crossed it, and then steering 
 for the Vale, he passed the Broughtons and Mr. Sher- 
 brooke's covert ; after which he bore round to the right, 
 and ran up to the Wartnaby hills, and passing Little 
 Belvoir and Hoi well Mouth, got again into the vale by 
 Clawson, from which another turn took us over the hiUs, 
 this time to keep straight ahead. Having passed Grim- 
 stone Gorse and Lord Aylesford's covert, we kept on 
 thence by Eagdale, and were soon afterwards treated to 
 a shy at the Hoby raspers, at one of which Count 
 Kinsky got an awful fall, a bottom which looked to be 
 eighteen or twenty feet wide, with stake and bound 
 
134 
 
 fence on taking off side. He was picked up insensible, 
 but soon came round, and joined hounds again after 
 they had passed Cossington Grorse, and reached Sea- 
 grave village. Hounds threaded the village, and then 
 pointed for Barrow-on-Soar, but, turning again to the 
 right, crossed over by Pandy and Burton, got within a 
 few fields of Wymeswold, and were stopped in the dark 
 when nearing Old Dalby. About four gentlemen only 
 got to the end of this run. 
 
 Friday, Jan. 11th. — Great Dalby was the meet, and 
 after running a fox to ground at Leesthorpe, we found in 
 Thorpe Trussells, and ran a cracker, the line being by 
 Adams' Gorse, then over the beautiful and good- 
 scenting old Burrow hill steeplechase course, thence to 
 the left by Sir Francis Burdett's covert, Gartree Hill, 
 over the Burton Flats to Burbage's covert, where we 
 dwelt not a moment, but running straight through, 
 hounds kept up the pace towards Stapleford Park, 
 rolling their fox over handsomely when within three 
 fields of it. Time, just over an hour. 
 
 Monday, 14th, was productive of another good run of 
 about the same time. Six Hills being the meeting place. 
 A slow hunt from Cossington Gorse was all that was 
 done in the morning, when we went on to Thrussington 
 New Covert, and found as fine a fox as is often seen. 
 He went away by Six Hills, and then, turning to the 
 right, got close up to Shoby Scholes, when another turn 
 to the left took us over the Wartnaby road, and pointing 
 in the direction of Wymeswold, from which he turned, 
 and shortly after passed Old Dalby, thence on by Lord 
 Aylesford's Covert and Shoby, worked back by Eagdale, 
 where he was rolled over in the open. The following 
 
125 
 
 sketch will show that he must have been pretty stiff, for 
 he stood up perfectly straight when dead, and without 
 
 the slightest assistance. 
 
 Another fox was found in Walton Thorns, and killed in 
 the open, in fifteen minutes ; and another being halloa'd 
 for'ard at the same time, gave us a remarkably pretty 
 gallop, running by Wymes wold, Ella's Gorse, Willoughby, 
 Wysall, and beat us at or near to Widmerpool just as 
 darkness was coming on. 
 
 The thirty-two minutes which was so thoroughly 
 enjoyed on the day after the Loughborough ball should, 
 I think, be mentioned briefly. 
 
 Thursday, 17th Jan. — Prestwold, at 12. Of course 
 there was a much larger field than is seen on this side on 
 any ordinary occasion. Our first fox was found in 
 Willoughby Gorse, and bowled over just before reaching 
 Widmerpool. Time of this spurt, fifteen minutes. 
 
 All were pleased when the master now gave the order 
 for Curates Gorse, which has been the starting point of 
 
126 
 
 so many good runs. A fox was quickly found, but on 
 account of the number of people he could not get away 
 so quickly as usual, and indeed he was nearly chopped, 
 through being headed and turned back from the road, 
 which was lined. Making his next attempt on the 
 upper side, he got clear away, and nothing could be more 
 lively than the run which followed. After pointing for 
 Upper Broughton, he swung round to the left, crossed 
 the road, and dipped at once into the valley — hounds 
 racing and shooting through each succeeding fence like 
 so many arrows. A turn to the right taking us under 
 both the Broughtons, and the brook which crossed our 
 path, had the effect of thinning the field most unmistake- 
 ably, one gentleman getting a fearful ducking, his horse 
 walking about on the top of him while he was under 
 water, and he eventually had to ride home to Leicester 
 minus hat, whip, and one stirrup, while a dozen or 
 fourteen others helped to fill its banks. Hounds in the 
 meantime were racing away and waiting for no one, 
 their line being by Mr. Sherbrooke's Covert, and pointing 
 their heads in the direction of Kaye Wood ; but again 
 turning to the left, they wheeled round, and running 
 beside the canal up to Hickling village, they were seen, 
 fox and hounds, tumbling over and over down the em- 
 bankment, when a real hearty whoo-hoop rent the air. 
 Among others, Mr. L. EoUeston went remarkably well, 
 and was one of the first to see the fox rolled over. 
 
 On the day following, viz., Friday, 18th, the fixtui'e 
 was Quenby Hall — and another grand day's sport was 
 the result. The first fox was put up in the open by 
 foot people, but he went to ground at Ingarsby, and we 
 went on to Botany Bay. A traveller was quickly found, 
 and, dashing through the Coplow, made at once '* over 
 
127 
 
 tlie hills and far away." Passing by Tomlin's spinney, 
 and climbing the next hill, the pace was too great for 
 the horses, and hounds literally ran away from them. 
 They ran at a tremendous pace, leaving Billesdon on the 
 right, and Skeffington on the left, to Eolleston. Time 
 up to this, twenty minutes. Scent now failed consider- 
 ably, and the rest part was hunting, although at a fair 
 pace. A lot of country was ran over by Keythorpe and 
 -East JSTorton, the fox being finally killed in the open 
 near Loddington, in the Cottesmore country, after 
 having ran through a good portion of Sir Bache Cunard's. 
 This made the sixth fox killed in the open dunng the 
 last four days. 
 
 On Friday, Jan. 25th, the meet was at Ashby Folville. 
 A fox was found first in Thorpe Trussells, and hunted 
 steadily by the Punch Bowl, Pickwell, and lost at Cold 
 Overton, when we came back to Ashby Pastures, and 
 found w-hat had proved to be, on two previous occasions, 
 the worst fox ever seen, for he ran the whole time like a 
 very bad rabbit ; and it is most surprising that such a 
 fox could have behaved so badly, for he knew a great 
 deal of country. He went away this time the same 
 line as before, and w^as trying his twisting dodges, when 
 he must have found this time it would not pay. Coming 
 away beside the road towards Gaddesby, the pace was 
 terrific as they skirted the end of that village, and swung 
 round over the grasses by Ashby Folville. Another 
 turn to the left took them up the hill, and, after running 
 between the two coverts of Thorpe Trussells and the 
 Pastures, they pointed for Kirby, but turned before 
 reaching it, and taking in the line Gaudilope and Burton 
 Lazars, after which hounds quickly entered Mr. 
 Burbage's Covert. So far it had been capital, but was 
 
128 
 
 not yet over. As hounds were going in on one side, the 
 fox was going out at the other, and coming back to the 
 river, which saved us the trouble of crossing it. The 
 line was now direct across the Burton Elats to Staple- 
 ford Park, which the fox reached not two minutes in 
 front of hounds, and was immediately after bowled over 
 handsomely. Time, an hour and five minutes ; distance, 
 as the crow flies, nine miles ; as they ran, thirteen. 
 
 Monday, 4th 'Feb. — There were two charming gallops 
 to ground. Meeting place, Widmerpool New Inn. The 
 morning was spent in blank draws ; but when Lord 
 Aylesford's Covert was reached the proceedings consider- 
 ably altered, for a very wide-awake fox was away before 
 hounds entered the covert, and being clapped on to him 
 without loss of time, the twenty minutes which followed 
 was of the very best description : the line being round 
 Grimstone, through the Gorse and Saxelby Wood, 
 thence by Old Dalby, to Broughton station, to ground 
 beside the line. Being a large pipe drain, there was no 
 difficulty in bolting him ; and after another nice run, he 
 returned to the same drain, and was left in peace. 
 
 Monday, 11th. — A very wild morning, and unhke 
 hunting. The fixture was Thrussington, and Cossington 
 Gorse was first drawn. This covert produced a fox 
 who went to ground at Ratcliffe-on-the- Wreak, beside 
 the river, at a time when the most fearful storm of hail 
 and rain was falling that is often one's lot to be out in. 
 The day now cleared up nicely, and we went on to 
 Thrussington Wolds for another fox — quickly finding ; 
 but scent was only very moderate until towards the end. 
 Hounds hunted beautifully by Eagdale, thence by 
 Shoby and Hoby, then to the left up to Grimstone, and 
 
129 
 
 on to Old Dalby, and down towards Broughton station ; 
 but, turning back, the line was carried over the Wart- 
 naby hills and into Saxelby Wood, where they got on 
 better terms with their fox ; and now they began to run 
 in real earnest, and the line of grass, too, was very 
 pretty. Clean through Saxelby village they raced 
 him, and at Asfordby bowled him over in a cottage 
 garden, after a remarkably sporting run. 
 
 On Monday, March 10th. — Widmerpool New Inn 
 was again the meet, and Curates Gorse ^again the first 
 draw. A fox being quickly found, we were away almost 
 in no time, and in eleven minutes afterwards were at 
 the edge of Mr. Sherbrooke's Covert. I don't know the 
 distance, but this seemed to me to be very quick work, and 
 I took out my watch twice to be sure that I had not 
 made a mistake. The fox being holloa'd on one field 
 ahead, we ran by Hose brickyard and Clawson to the 
 Thorns, thence to Piperhole Gorse, when hounds divided. 
 Our horses were too much beat to be able to catch and 
 stop either lot, so each went their own way : one lot 
 running their fox to ground at Harby Hills, the others 
 theirs to ground at Old Hills. 
 
 Saturday, 22nd March.— A day on the Forest, 
 Charley Cross Roads being the meeting place. Some 
 coverts were drawn blank in a line for the Whit wick 
 Eocks,^ where we found, but our fox was killed almost 
 immediately, which was a sad blow, as foxes on this 
 side were well known to be very scarce. However, 
 we had luck in store, for at the One Barrow Eeservoir 
 a very stout old gentleman was in waiting, and who 
 kept us for the next two hours busily engaged ere he 
 yielded up his life. Going first by the One Barrow 
 
130 
 
 Earm, lie ran a circle, and back to his starting point, 
 thence to White Horse Wood and Sheepshed, and, 
 instead of going on to Garendon, he turned to the left, 
 and keeping Oakley and Piper Woods on the right 
 hand, ran pretty straight to Belton, and then turned 
 short to the left along the Water Meadows, where there 
 was a capital scent, and which was a very pretty part 
 of the run. This led us to Grracedieu Manor, hounds 
 crossing the Park, and pointing for the Cadement Wood, 
 but instead of entering it, they bore to the left, and 
 crossing Sharpley Eocks, once more passed One Barrow. 
 This was his last time, for our fox now put his head for 
 a different line, and from which he was not again destined 
 to return. Crossing by the Oaks Church and Hiveshead 
 we soon reached Longcliffe, and passing on the right of 
 the Privets, ran over Whittle Hill, and into the Out 
 Woods ; one turn round, and away by Caron's Piece, 
 and on to Beacon Hill; and running through the 
 Beacon Planting, hounds got a view just outside, and 
 rolled him over, and so ended another capital day. 
 
 The above are, although feebly written, a slight 
 example of the many excellent runs which have been 
 enjoyed during this very famous season-— certainly by 
 far the best it has been my good fortune to have seen. 
 It is an old saying that a good scent makes a good fox, 
 and in the season just past, this may be said to have 
 been fully illustrated, for scent has been better and foxes 
 have run straighter than perhaps has been known for a 
 very many years. I hope it may be as good next. 
 Then with a good pack of hounds and a good stud of 
 horses, and a prosperous season for the farmers, there 
 will be lots of fun and enjoyment for those who think 
 that, among the few things most worth living for, fox- 
 hunting is one. 
 
 T. Fire. 
 
31 
 
 THE GALLAKT LITTLE GEEY. 
 
 I've got as good a little horse as ever you did see, 
 So well he lifts his foreleg up, so nice he bends his knee ; 
 His action high, his quarters good, and such a depth of girt. 
 And a rattling pair of hocks and thighs to lift him 
 through the dirt. 
 
 My gallant little hunter, 
 
 My dashing little grey ! 
 
 Now see him at the covert side with snaffle bridle on, 
 "While other horses chafe and fret, how quietly he'll 
 
 stand ; 
 And when the hounds have found their fox, and settled 
 
 to him steady, 
 He'll champ his bit and shake his head to show you he 
 is ready. 
 
 My gallant little hunter, 
 My dashing little grey ! 
 
 Five minutes more are over, there's a halloo "gone 
 
 away !" 
 The scent is good, the pace first-rate, there is no time 
 
 to stay : 
 The scent is good, and up yon hill I'll venture any bet 
 The cocktails will be sobbing, and the sweUs all in a fret 
 At my gallant little hunter, 
 My dashing little grey ! 
 
 Now twenty minutes past and gone, the sweUs begin to 
 
 crane 
 At a great high stile upon a bank, and a drop into a lane. 
 My little nag can stand and jump, which oft saves me a 
 
 burst, 
 And now but two are with the hounds, and now, by 
 Jove, I'm first 
 
 On my dashing little hunter, 
 My gallant little grey ! 
 
132 
 
 COLONEL THOMSON'S BEST RUN WITH 
 THE ATHERSTONE, 
 
 1849. 
 
 Januakt 1st, Monday. Red Lion, Appleby. Sailor 
 and Landseer, self; "Ace," Stephen Goodall; Avenue, 
 Stephen Shepherd. Small pack, 19^ couple; scent 
 capital. Wind, N.E.; very cold. 
 
 Birdshill Gorse being cut down, Geo. Moore used to 
 put a terrier through the earth, while the hounds 
 drew the rough grass and nettles at the other end. 
 Bolted a fox from the earth, came out of the top of the 
 cover, turned to the left, and crossed the brook towards 
 Measham Mill ; ran up almost to the canal bridge as if 
 for Willesley, turned to the left along the side of the 
 brook to Stretton, which they crossed nearly opposite 
 the house. Checked for a moment, but hit it off 
 before anyone got to them, crossed the road to Ashby, 
 ran very hard across the road from No-Man's Heath to 
 Seckington. Ransom and Darling made a capital turn 
 — Fencer, Matchless, Ringlet, President, Barmaid, and 
 Nimble, all doing well. Checked for a moment at the road 
 at the top of the new Thorpe cover — twenty-five minutes 
 up to the first check. Ran on very pretty up to Thorpe, 
 where they checked again at the road, hit it two fields 
 on. Up jumped a hare ; Plunder and some young ones 
 at it ; stopped them. Up got another ; Prudence and 
 Dewdrop after it. Roj-al hit the line off in the other 
 direction through a sheepfold, and put us right again ; 
 through Thorpe Gorse (cut down), across a deep country 
 up to the railroad near Wiggington (where my horse 
 cast a shoe — I took the "Ace" from Goodall), crossed 
 at a bridge, and began to run for him ; came down to 
 
133 
 
 tlie Thame, near the hanging cover at Elford, ran along 
 the bank for about two fields (Cheerful leading), crossed 
 the river — horses could not get over — ran up nearly to 
 Fisherwick, turned to the left over the meadows, where 
 they ran him in view. He swam the river at Comber- 
 ford Mill to return to the Atherstone side : the hounds 
 viewed him in the water, and dashed in at him. They 
 landed on an island^ where they killed him. No one 
 could get to them, but Novice brought the head on 
 shore, and some others a pad or two. Time, one hour 
 and fifteen minutes. A very good run, and a very 
 pretty finish. Sailor carried me like a bird, and the 
 " Ace " the last part. Edmund Peel went very well on 
 a black horse, also Powell on a grey ; Hervey, Wilson, 
 Lawrenson, &c. Powell got his horse in the Thame, and 
 old Green nearly got drowned in fording it. Bass got 
 a bad fall, and broke a rib. Hon. J. Macdonald, Henry 
 Porester, Stanhope, &c,, were out, and came from 
 Lord Chesterfield's, Bretby Park. 
 
 Frost set in very hard in the afternoon. Sir Geo. 
 Chetwynd gave me a cigar, the last I ever smolved. 
 Killed eighteen brace, and six to ground, up to date. 
 
 J. A. T. 
 
 THE OHAENDOxY RUN WITH THE 
 BICESTER. 
 
 Letter from Colois-el Anstetjther Thomson to Geoege 
 Moore, Esq., of Appleby, December 23rd, 1856. 
 
 I HATE had such a run last Tuesday (Dec. 23rd) as I 
 never saw before, so have taken a large sheet of paper to 
 tell you aU about it, and have, moreover, made a map 
 
134 
 
 for your benefit, as yoii know the country. Met at 
 Charndon Common. Sharpish air, but fine, still 
 morning. Twenty couple white hounds ; my pack. 
 Found two or three foxes in Charndon Wood, and I 
 intended as soon as we had made a row in the wood, to 
 cut away to the end where a fox generally breaks ; how- 
 ever, before I got there, two were holloaed away. In 
 going up the ride 1 crossed two lines of foxes, and some 
 hounds broke away on each, so I arrived with only four 
 couple ; however, they came dropping on, and as soon as 
 I got twelve couple, I went away with them. We had 
 just got over the Edgcot Eoad and down the hill, where 
 our fox had turned to the right, when something headed 
 him, and he turned back in front of the hounds, in the 
 same field with them, and away they went over those 
 fine grass fields. Somehow another fox appeared, and 
 the two ran close together up to the Grandon and 
 Marsh Gibbon Road. I had a bad start, being the 
 wrong side of a big fence, and only caught them there. 
 The fox had run up the road towards me, and gone 
 through the gate, opposite to which I came into the road. 
 The twelve couple on the line were two fields to my left, 
 and five couples scoring to the cry in the next field to 
 me, when I whistled the five couple, nicked the scent 
 first, and then away they went in earnest, seventeen 
 couple, over Marsh Gibbon field, all grass, very deep, 
 double fences and brooks. We began by crossing the 
 brook twice, and a double, which thinned the field down 
 to seven or eight, George Drake being first, Bill Holland 
 and myself and Ned Drake next, Henry Lambton and 
 Ned Harrison a little behind us, and I never saw any- 
 one else. At the Ham Green road the fox ran up the 
 road a little way, the leading four couple flashed on and 
 missed the turn, but the body hunted the line through. 
 
135 
 
 I did not get them together till we got to the Luggars- 
 hall road. Here Kansom made a drive up the furrow 
 of a ploughed field (only the second we had seen), and 
 then stopped as if she was shot. The fox had been 
 headed by a plough, and turned short to the left. 
 Nosegay, Governess, and one other, hunted the line, 
 and I nicked in with the body in the field before them, 
 and away they scored again. They ran up the Luggarshall 
 and Piddington road for the length of two fields ; the 
 fox was headed and turned down to the right. Gallant 
 making a good hit ; the fox then shifted one furrow. 
 Dreadnought, another young one, hitting that off. 
 Twice the fox tried to make his point at Piddington 
 village, but both times was headed by hedge cutters ; 
 but he tried it a field further on, ' and then turned up 
 again, and set his head for Muxwell Hill. In the turn 
 the body ran over it, but Nosegay carried it on, and 
 never left the line. When we crossed the Piddington 
 and Luggarshall road the second time, two or three 
 horsemen joined, but I had no time to see who they 
 were, two Drakes, Holland, and I having the best of it. 
 When about half way up the hill the hounds paused 
 among some cattle, but Blossom, Governess, and two 
 others hunted it through. When they got to the top, 
 hounds turned short to the right, and I lost sight of 
 them for two fields. The hill is very steep, and I got 
 into a very deep stubble field, so I pulled into a trot to 
 ease my horse, and I went through a farmyard, when 
 I found myself again in the field with the hounds, and 
 above them, they having gone down the hill, and Ned 
 Drake and Holland having gone with them. George 
 Drake had followed me through the farmyard, and then 
 joined the other two ; I kept above them. We then 
 crossed the Brill and Bicester road, which only has two 
 
136 
 
 or three practicable places. I got one above the hounds, 
 and the others had to go to the bottom of the hill. I 
 was still one field above the hounds, when they turned 
 sharp to the left, and came up the hill to me, and 1 was 
 able to stand still for a few minutes, much to the 
 advantage of my horse. Here Tom Lowndes came to 
 me, but we had not much time to spare. They streamed 
 down the hill as if for BoarstoU Wood, but when they 
 got to the road, turned away from it- along the road for 
 two hundred yards. Blossom and Governess hunting it 
 beautifully. On again over a little brook and up to 
 Arncot Little Wood— here the fox ran through a sheep- 
 fold, and was only one field before us ; down the rack- 
 way through the cut part of the wood, then down the 
 outside on to Arncot "Great Wood, where he went into 
 the ride through the gate — one hour and seven minutes 
 without a check to this point. Up the ride nearly to 
 the top, two Harrisons, Lambton, two Drakes, Lowndes, 
 Holland, and myself being then with them, and Mr. 
 Brown, of Piddington, joined us as we crossed his farm ; 
 then through the top part, and away over the hill, never 
 having checked or divided. Governess leading them 
 down the hill to the Arncot river, where they rather ran 
 away from us. When we got to the Ambrosden road 
 I thought he was going for the ruins, and went round 
 by the road ; however, on he went parallel to the Merton 
 road. Brown and I on the road looking out for him to 
 cross, and the others riding the line. At Ashley Bridge 
 farm he turned short to the left from the road and 
 towards the farm, probably being headed, and as we 
 turned into the field I expect he crossed the road — he 
 was then two fields before us. Hunted it on through a 
 ploughed field, and he then crossed the road opposite 
 
187 
 
 tlie Merton earths, but passed tliem on to the village, 
 crossed the road again, and ran do^Ti to the river side. 
 Here we had our first check. One hour and thirty- 
 minutes to this point. Soon hit it off, and hunted him 
 bacii towards the farmhouse. Now comes the worst 
 part of the story : Morris, my second whip, here came 
 in sight on my left ; about six couple o£ hounds had the 
 line on the left side of a thick double hedge, the rest of 
 the hounds being on the wrong side. Just then Powell 
 came up, meeting us with two couple of the hounds 
 which had been left behind. He saw something move 
 in the hedge, pulled his cap off, and capped the hounds 
 on his side to a hare. " Be quiet," I shouted. In the 
 meantime, Morris has stopped the others off the 
 line, and got their heads up. There was a curdog bark- 
 ing in the farmyard, and three young hounds ran through 
 the gate towards it from the other side, in front of those 
 that had had the line. They had their heads up, and 
 started to join them, thinking there was a view. I got 
 them all quiet as soon as I could, and drew every hedge 
 row round about for an hour, but could make no more 
 of it. I got a line again over the road and up to the 
 drain, and then away from it as if he had been headed, 
 as there were two men working on the mouth of it 
 almost, and I think since that he may perhaps have got 
 in after all ; at any rate, it was the best run I ever saw, 
 and if we had caught him, would have been perfection. 
 I was riding Maximus, Jack Darby's horse : he never 
 made a mistake, but galloped the whole time with his 
 head loose. He never was blown, and very little tired. 
 Both he and I have a thorn in our knee, but that is all 
 the grief we experienced. Come here, and we will try 
 and do it again. 
 
138 
 
 Col. Thomson rode Maximus and Peter ; Tom Powell, 
 Mayboy ; Morris, Wolf dog. Twenty couple of white 
 hounds. 
 
 N.B, — The Bicester packs were divided into white 
 and black at that time. 
 
 THE WATEELOO EUN WITH THE PTTCHLEY, 
 
 Eebetjary 2nd, 1866. 
 Weitten" by Colonel Ansteijthee Thomson. 
 
 The accounts of the Waterloo Eun have been so 
 many and so various, that I send you what 
 I believe to be the leading facts in the day's sport. The 
 hounds ran their first fox in Loatland Wood, and in 
 and out of cover for one hour and five minutes, and ran him 
 to ground to Arthingworth. They found again in 
 Waterloo Grorse at a quarter to tw^o. The time from 
 Waterloo to the earths at Keythorpe was one hour fifty 
 minutes. The total time was three hours forty-five 
 minutes, but w-e Lad a long check, twenty or twenty-five 
 minutes at the windmill at Medbourne, and hunted on 
 slowly afterwards. I take the distance to be from 
 Waterloo to Kelmarsh, three miles; from Kelmarsh to 
 Keythorpe, eighteen, as we ran it, being twenty-one 
 miles in one hour and fifty minutes. There were only 
 four ploughed fields in that distance. The hounds were 
 only off" the line once, between Kelmarsh and Key- 
 thorpe, when I lifted them one field to a holloa at Little 
 Oxendon. As to changing foxes, I don't think we 
 clianged at Shipley Spinney. We might have changed 
 when I lifted the hounds at Little Oxendon, but I don't 
 
139 
 
 think we did, as it was in the direction our fox was 
 travelling. I think we changed at Keythorpe Wood, as 
 another fox was viewed there besides the fox which we 
 followed to Medbourne. We may have changed any- 
 where in a hedgerow, but I saw no perceptible change 
 of scent, or anthing to cause me to think so. Some of your 
 correspondents have asked where I managed to get five 
 horses durinsj the run. They will see in " Baily " that I 
 was indebted to the kindness and sportsmanlike feeling 
 of my friends, Mr. Hay and Mr. Walter de Whiton, 
 and I beg all of them to accept my most grateful thanks. 
 Both Colonel Frazer and Mr. Whyte, on getting fresh 
 horses, also most generously offered them to me. 
 
 Friday, Feb. 2nd. — Met at Arthingworth. I rode 
 Valeria and Rainbow; Dick Eoake, Usurper; Tom Firr, 
 Fresco ; CharHe, my son, Amulet. I was staying at Sir 
 Charles Isham's, at Lamport, and hounds called for me 
 as they passed. A very wet morning, but cleared at eleven 
 o'clock ; very mild and still ; not a very good scent in cover ; 
 wind, S.W. Found in Waterloo at five minutes past two 
 by my watch (twenty minutes fast). The fox lay so still, 
 I drew all round the cover, and back to the top before 
 he moved. He lay among a heap of dead sticks — Grace- 
 ful found him. Morris * holloaed him away towards the 
 tunnel. I was at the other end of the cover, and before I 
 got to the hounds they had checked near the road. I took 
 them along the road nearly to the white gate, where 
 they got the line towards Arthingworth. They were 
 ridden otF the line in the first field, but swung round 
 through the fence on to it again, over the brook and 
 spinney at Arthingworth, and crossed the rail. The 
 field w^s full of sheep, and the shepherd told me the 
 
 Richd. Morris, my second horseman, many years with Warwickshire 
 and me, a capital man with hounds. 
 
140 
 
 fox had gone into Langboro'. I carried them on, and 
 just as I got to the gate he was holloaed away on the 
 other side. I cut down the middle ride, and got on the 
 line, crossed the Harboro' road, and ran fast on to 
 Shipley Spinney. Hounds just crossed the end o£ the 
 Spinney, and went right up the hill towards Clipston, 
 and then it began in earnest. Dick went round the 
 Tallyho end of the Spinney ( Covert at west end 
 of Shipley Spinney), and viewed another fox, and 
 blew his horn, which distracted some of the field, and 
 put them out of it. Two fields further on there was a 
 stifi" stile and footboard, which lots of fellows tumbled 
 over. I had a shy at the bullfinch up hill, high and 
 strong, and it turned Valeria over. I lost a spur, which 
 I put in my pocket, picked up the pieces, and set sail, but 
 I lost half a field, which I could not regain. Two fields 
 on another stile, and lots of grief. Eobertson No. 2 
 and another down, blocked the way. The field then 
 divided into two lots, the right hand lot well with the 
 hounds — Custance, Tom, Charlie Whyte, Erazer, Top- 
 ham, and perhaps twenty more. The left hand lot, 
 myself, Mills, De la Cour, Boyd, &c., about a field and 
 a half behind the hounds. Hounds ran on without a 
 pause past the spinney between Oxendon and Clipston, 
 leaving Oxendon village to the right, into the Farndon 
 and Oxendon road, I came into the road opjDOsite Mr. 
 Kirkman's house. They checked here, and I lifted 
 them on to a holloa one field off, having to jump a nasty 
 double, with a rail to me to get at it. Governess first 
 spoke to the line, and ofi" we went again, crossed the 
 bottom from Farndon, which Vivian jumped first and 
 fell ; I scrambled in and out. iS'ethercote Whyte, 
 Prazer, and Topham were first at the next fence. 
 Hounds then began to go down the hill towards Lub- 
 
141 
 
 benham, one field to the right of the Earndon and 
 Harboro' road. I got into the road, and here Dick and 
 Charlie (my boy) joined ns. Hounds crossed the road 
 into the big field, and the Welland at the Harborongh 
 corner. Charlie had a shy at the rails and tumbled over 
 them. I went further up the field for a broken rail. 
 Dick and I both lay to the left for Lubbenham cover, 
 thinking that was his point, but he crossed the river 
 and rail at the Harboro' end. We lifted the railway 
 gate ofi" its hinges, and crossed near the cover — Topham, 
 Mills, Mayon, Charlie, &c. We caught the hounds at 
 the Harboro' and Lubbenham road. They then turned 
 their heads towards Bowden Inn, and began to run 
 hard. Grief began to be visible at the next fence, a 
 nasty place up hill. Birch Eeynardson had his horse 
 in the ditch, and was exclaiming, " Oh. dear ! oh, dear !" 
 Two fields further on my mare began to trot (she had 
 a good dressing with the first fox, having run an hour 
 up and down the rides in Loatland Wood). I heard 
 Dick whistle behind me, and say, " Take my horse, sir, 
 he has ten minutes left." I changed with him, and told 
 him to get " Eainbow" from Morris as soon as he could. 
 " Usurper," his horse, was fresh enough, for he mshed at 
 the first fence — a drop — over-jumped himself, and gave 
 me a regular burster, and knocked five minutes of the 
 ten out of himself. No harm done ; scrambled on and 
 caught the hounds at the railway bridge at Bowden Inn. 
 The fox had run the road. Eelish hit the line through 
 the hedge on the right, and Tom held the rest up to her. 
 The field had cut ofi" the tail hounds, and got Elasher 
 and Graceful in the middle of them, and were playing 
 at football with them, for which I blessed them. They 
 ran round the back of Bowden Inn, paused for a 
 minute at a plough, and crossed the rail at the first 
 
149 
 
 crossing right of the Langton road. Flasher first over 
 the rail, and then over the brook, and on as if for 
 Langton Caudle. Frank Langham went at the brook, 
 and his horse jumped in. Tom Eirr, seeing the bottom 
 was good, jumped in and out. Custance jumped it 
 well, just as Tom got out. Mills and I jumped it more 
 to the right, in a watering place, and got over well, only 
 two others, Langham and Tom, over before us. It 
 caused lots of grief, and many took to the road at Bow- 
 den Inn. Wliyte and Frazer's horses stand there, and 
 they both got fresh horses. The fox was headed on the 
 top of the next hill, and turned along the valley. Here 
 Charlie Whyte came up on a fresh grey horse, and 
 kindly offered to let me have it. We now began to be 
 a mutual assistance society, and help each other, and 
 pulled down rails and made gaps. Crossed the road 
 between Thorpe Langton and Great Bowden ; hounds 
 still carried on steadily. I just saw Langton Caudle, 
 which we left on our left, and thought it would be the 
 end of the journey, and that I could just hug up to it. 
 Crossed the Thorpe Langton and Welham road, got 
 through the brook at a ford, going up a hill. Here 
 Usurper dropped into a trot, and Mr. Hay lent me his 
 horse, a brown thoroughbred. The first gate I came to 
 half closed and touched its side j it plunged and pitched 
 me clean over its head. We here came to a ploughed 
 field and a wheat field. The field remained on the grass 
 on the top of the hill. I went with the hounds, and 
 had to jump a ditch up hill out of the plough. The 
 horse did not land hind legs, and was not strong enough 
 to get up, so I jumped off. At the bottom of the hill, 
 a " Pat " holloaed us on — " Just gone when I holloaed ;" 
 and off again just over the grass, turned to the left past 
 a brick kiln, crossed the road between Staunton Wy villa 
 
143 
 
 and Cranoe, and up hill to a spinney. Hay's liorse 
 could gallop well, so I got on to the other side, stood 
 still for a minute, and saw hounds come out, Royston 
 hunting it single-handed through the sheep ; and then 
 ]\Ionarch spoke on the other side of the hedge, the rest 
 came bundling on, andaway we went, "Cherry" Angel here 
 in company. Crossed a lane near Grlooston village, and 
 carried on well through several fields full of sheep. 
 " Hurrah for the Duke of Beaufort ! " said I — Ferry- 
 man,"^ guiding the scent, leading to Glooston Wood. "I 
 always told you so," says Clerk (Tailby had been in it the 
 day before). Through the wood like bells, and away on 
 the other side towards Skeffington. Allan Young hol- 
 loaed them away. On coming out of the wood I had a 
 shoe off, and Walter de Winton changed horses with 
 me. There is a nasty deep bottom at the end of the 
 field, where Custance got his horse fast ; my horse, or 
 rather de Winton's, refused it, and Edgill scrambled in. 
 Just then I heard Dick whistle, and found him on the 
 other side on Rainbow. I j amped off, got over the rails, 
 and set sail all right again. Some men rabbiting had 
 turned the fox half a field to the left, and they ran clear 
 away from us again. John Chaplin and another were 
 before me, but kept too far to the left. I got along the 
 road to Godeby with Colonel Mayon, and caught them 
 at the corner of the road, and then went on with them 
 alone to Keythorpe Wood. Here they checked a 
 moment in the wood, or at least did not speak. I got 
 on to the middle ride, and saw Singer, Streamer, and 
 Ferryman cross, but not on the line ; however, they hit 
 it off again, and went away towards Eamshead. I got 
 the rest after them, and had eleven couple on — Fanny 
 the last hound out. Dick and Tom both there. Three 
 
 * Ferryman, by Duke of Beaufort's Finder. 
 
144 
 
 fields further on the fox tried the earth, where Tailby 
 had run to ground on the previous Tuesday, and dug 
 out. I looked at my watch : one hour and fifty minutes, 
 and, I think, about eighteen miles, and hounds had oaly 
 once been ofi" the line, when I lifted them at Little 
 Oxendon. Here there was something like two lines, 
 the body of the hounds going down the field towards 
 Eamshead ; a few others had a scent on the right-hand 
 side of the hedge. Coventry joined us somewhere here, 
 with a pair of trousers on. I heard Tom, a field behind 
 me, holloa, " Yonder he goes ! " and, at the same time, 
 Colonel Frazer told me one-and-a-half couple of hounds 
 were two fields on to the right. I thought the fox had 
 gone through Hallaton Thorns — there is a deep bottom 
 and very steep hill here. I lifted the hounds (hoping 
 to catch the leading ones there) to the far side of 
 Hallaton Thorns. When I got half way up the hill, 
 two gentlemen on foot, who were rabbiting, showed me 
 where the leading hounds were ; they had not come into 
 Hallaton, but were pointing for Fallow Closes, along 
 outside the fence, in at the -gate, and then away along 
 the bottom. I only got thirteen couple away from here, 
 Merryman, Streamer, Relish, Eansom, Dragon, Singer, 
 generally leading, and all working well. Frantic, 
 though she had not been out for weeks, was there. We 
 passed Mr. Studd's house, and they ran away from us 
 again down to Slawston Covert — they just came out of 
 the cover as we got there. The field was full of sheep, 
 and they got the line at the cross-roads. While we 
 were on the road some men on the hill viewed the fox 
 going along the hollow behind us, only one field off. 
 We cut along the road, and got on the line directly, run 
 hard down the meadows to the Welland, near the 
 angle of the river at Welham ; turned to the 
 
145 
 
 left along tlie bank of the river, as far as the road which 
 goes to Medbourne station, there turned to the left up 
 to the windmill, and got on to ploughed land. Here 
 Captain Clerk turned up. The fox had been coursed 
 by a sheep dog, and repeatedly turned. This caused a 
 long check (perhaps twenty minutes). A man told me 
 he had gone slant ways across a large wheat field (which 
 was wrong), and after holding the hounds all round it, 
 I got the line straight on again in the direction we had 
 formerly been going, but with a failing scent. The 
 hounds crossed the line without acknowledging it : Kelish 
 stopped back alone, and made a drive down the furrow 
 without speaking to it. I put the rest on to her, and 
 in the next field they began to hunt it again, but they 
 could not go the same pace as before. They crossed the 
 road between Medbourne and Hallaton, and ran up the 
 side of the brook to the road which goes to Blaiston, 
 Graceful being the last hound to hit off* the line ; she 
 had also been the first one to speak to it in the morning. 
 It was then almost dark, and I was afraid we might 
 lose the hounds, so I stopped them at 5.30, having run 
 three hours and forty-five minutes. There was a halloa 
 about two fields on at the time. Mr. Piercy, the clergy- 
 man at Slawston, had come out on foot when he heard 
 the hounds. He took us to his house and refreshed us, 
 gave the horses gruel, and treated us hospitably, and 
 most kindly ofi'ered me a hack if I wished to leave my 
 horse, but he was not tired, and carried me home quite 
 cheerfully. He carried me more than two hours, 
 and never made a mistake — a pretty good trial for 
 a five-year-old. I had gone on for an hour and 
 forty-five minutes without a whipper-in, or having 
 the hounds turned to me once. Captain Clerk, who 
 was the only man who went through on one horse, 
 
146 
 
 helped me through Market Harbor ough ; all the rest of 
 the way we jogged side by side, and the hounds trotted 
 along with their sterns up. It was a fine, mild, quiet 
 night. I stopped every three or four miles, and called • 
 them ; they all came round me, wagging their tails, and 
 trotted on again. We got to the kennels, eighteen or 
 nineteen miles, about ten o'clock. 
 
 At Lamport I met all the party starting for the Har- 
 borough ball. My wife returned, and waited while I 
 went to Brixworth with the hounds, got a hack, and 
 galloped back to Lamport. I met Dick with " Usurper," 
 just as I was coming out of Brixworth. I sat down to 
 dinner at ten minutes to eleven o'clock, got to the Har- 
 borough ball at 12.30, and remained two hours. I was 
 very little tired, and was at Ashby St. Legers by twelve 
 o'clock the next day. 
 
 After I changed horses with Dick at Glooston, he 
 came on with Mr. Hay's horse to the top of Hallaton 
 Thorns, but finding he could not go the pace to be any 
 assistance, he came quietly on to Pallow Closes, picked 
 up Tyrant (who was short of work, having a toenail off",) 
 and Bluecap, and went to Mr. Hay's, at Grreat Bowden. 
 He there got his own horse, who had eaten a feed of 
 corn, went into Harborough to get a shoe put on, and 
 jogged on home. Charlie went as far as Langton, over- 
 took Morris at Bowden Inn, and went home with him. 
 Tom's horse, " Fresco," carried him capitally up to Key- 
 thorpe, and there he stopped trying to get up to me, 
 when he viewed the fox. He came on as far as 
 Slawston, and then went on to Bowden Inn, where his 
 horse remained all night. John Pye, my groom, came 
 on the carriage to Harborough when we went to the 
 ball, and brought him home next morning. Of the 
 hounds left out. Bowman, Fanny, Governess, and Glory, 
 came home next day; Monarch came in on Monday. 
 
147 
 
 I never could see the fox or gee any advantage on 
 him, and I don't think I lost a chance. At Keythorpe 
 we may have changed, for Tom saw a fox besides that 
 which the hounds were on. Tailby had been in Glooston 
 Wood the day before. There was no check or per- 
 ceptible change of scent. 
 
 This was the best run I ever saw, and over the finest 
 country and longest distances, straight. There was one 
 ploughed field between Waterloo and Kelmarsh ; the 
 second was next the railway behind Bowden Inn. There 
 was a wheat field and a ploughed field together near 
 Cranoe, and I don't think the hounds were ever 
 ofi* grass, with these exceptions, up to the earth at Key- 
 thorpe — one hour and fifty minutes. 
 
 The hounds worked well, chasing and carrying a good 
 head up to Bowden Inn, hunting steadily through sheep 
 and all difficulties ; they were very fit to go, and not an 
 ounce too much flesh. They did a wonderful day's work, 
 having run their first fox an hour and five minutes 
 before they began with this. 
 
 Yours truly, 
 
 J. A. T. 
 
 
 HOUIIDS OUT. 
 
 
 Pytchley 
 
 Hounds. 
 
 Young Hounds 
 
 Kegent 
 
 Singer 
 
 Dragon 
 
 Monarch 
 
 Streamer 
 
 Flasher 
 
 Falstaff 
 
 Statesman 
 
 Folly 
 
 Pilgrim 
 
 Tasty 
 
 Frantic 
 
 Governess 
 
 Tyrant 
 
 Glory 
 
 Gambler 
 
 Dashwood 
 
 Gossamer 
 
 Plunder 
 
 Driver 
 
 Gaiety 
 
 Eoyston 
 
 Druid 
 
 
148 
 
 Eitzwilliam 
 Bramliam 
 
 Eomeo ) ttt • i i,- 
 > Warwickshire 
 
 Ferryman — B eauf ort 
 
 Merryman ) 
 
 Ransom j 
 
 Eelish ) 
 
 Singer / 
 
 T- ^ > Lord Henry Bentinck 
 Lancer J -^ 
 
 Promise 
 Bowman 
 
 Lothian 
 
 THE LTJNDIN RUN WITH THE FIFE HOUNDS, 
 
 November 30th, 1877. 
 
 The meet was at Lundin Station, and here were 
 assembled, at eleven o'clock, the devotees of the chase. 
 
 * * * But now to the covert close at hand, and the 
 hounds are scarcely in it before you can tell that some- 
 thing is up. No fox is viewed away, but it is clear they 
 can smell one. After a flash in the wrong direction by 
 some of the youngsters, owing partly to excitement and 
 partly to a hare, they quietly got together again, and 
 with two or three cheery notes from the master's horn, 
 are out of the wood, and streaming away with a rattling 
 scent towards Durie — gently over that wall, with the 
 drop that lands you clear of the covert. If you don't 
 hit it and fall, you have taken your station in society 
 for the next two miles, and it will be your own fault if 
 you lose it. There is no doubt about it : this is not one 
 of your " hold hard, gentlemen," days ; you may ride 
 where you like, and the heart of the master rejoiceth. 
 
 * * * The pack stopped mute at an open drain. 
 Many are the devices suggested for the ejection of poor 
 Reynard : but cold water proves at once the most harm- 
 less and the most effectual, for in a few minutes, as if 
 
149 
 
 refreshed by his bath, away he goes, and eighteen couple 
 of hounds are in full chorus behind him. Torloisk is 
 his point, which he reaches in safety, but not much to 
 spare, and here it must be a moot point whether we 
 changed foxes or not — at all events, the hounds were 
 never for an instant off the line, it may be of a fresh, 
 but I am inclined to think of our hunted fox, and taking 
 it right through the covert, race away through Milldean 
 Strips to Eameldrie. Here there was a slight check, but 
 scarcely more than sufficient to allow of their carrying 
 the scent through this thick covert of gorse and broom. 
 When gallantly breasting the hill, it seemed at first as if 
 they were making for Downfield or the Lime-works, 
 but, suddenly turning north, he made again for the low 
 country, and, sinking the hill, ran down straight to 
 Bamornie. The turn was so short, that only three 
 horsemen, viz., the Master, Col. Babington, and Mr. 
 William Blackwood — who happened to get the direction 
 the hounds had taken from the signals of a ploughman — 
 were left in pursuit, and, let it be added, never fairly 
 caught them. Through M elville woods and Park, close 
 by the house and through the garden, this straight- 
 necked fox held on till past Lindores, Dunbog, and 
 Glenduckie. This wonderful chase came to an end on 
 the banks of the Tay. Whether the hounds killed their 
 quarry or not will never be known, but it will be 
 remembered for many a long day, that Colonel 
 Anstruther Thomson found a fox on the banks of the 
 Forth and ran him to the banks of the Tay ; and though 
 he did not return home laden with the spoils of his 
 enemy, still J venture to think that the chase of Novem- 
 ber 30th, 1877, will deservedly hold a very high place 
 among his other great achievements. 
 
 HiSTOEY OF THE FlFE EOXHOUNDS. 
 
150 
 
 HUNTING SONG OF ME. MEYNELL'S TIME, * 
 
 ABOUT 1790. 
 
 This morning at work, sowing out of my hopper. 
 Troth ! who should come by but Dick, the earth-stopper. 
 Stop ! Hark ye ! says he, I think there be hounds : 
 Ods Bobs ! they are Meynell's 3 I hear his Gad zounds. 
 (Eepeat) With my Ballina mona ora, 
 
 Squire Meynell 's the hunter for me. 
 
 If we head him he'll d — us. We view ! Tally ho ! 
 Whilst the hounds ring the scent from the valley below. 
 All carrying a head, Sir, like pigeons in flight, 
 And beating the red coats almost out of sight. 
 
 The hounds of Squire Meynell for me. 
 
 From the Coplow they came, and to Enderby go ; 
 Then let us observe who rides over them now ; 
 Then cease, my dear Squire, oh ! cease your alarm, 
 For by Gosh ! there 's no rider can do them much harm. 
 Squire Meynell 's the hunter for me. 
 
 The first in the burst, see ! yonder comes Maynard, 
 Taking all in his stroke, yet 's obliged to strain hard. 
 And next him, on Marquis, there's dashing Charles 
 
 Windham, 
 At a mortal great stride, leaving numbers behind him. 
 The lads of Quorendon for me. 
 
 *Mr. Delme RadclifFe mentions this as " a very old song," and says it 
 was called "A Burst from Breedon Clouds," but in the printed copy kindly 
 lent me by Mr. Cradock, of Quorn, it is only entitled " Hunting Song." 
 
151 
 
 Then, funking his soul out, see Eeatherstonehaugh, 
 Who thin as a thread is, and light as a straw ; 
 And screwing behind him, there 's Titzherbert's Dick, 
 His horse half done up, looking sharp for a nick. 
 The lads of Quorendon for me. 
 
 Next Dick Knight and Smith Assheton we spy in the van, 
 
 Eiding hard as two furies at catch that catch can. 
 
 " Now Egmont,"(i) says Assheton ; " Now Contract/'(2) 
 
 says Dick, 
 "By Gosh ! these d — d Quornites shall now see the trick." 
 No Northamptonshire hunters for me. 
 
 Now smack at a yawner rides Winchilsea's Peer, (3) 
 So sure to be thrown on Pyramid's ear ; 
 And at the same place rides Smith, of Loraine ; 
 He 's off — no — he's on — he hangs by the mane. 
 The lads of Quorendon for me. 
 
 Where Yilliers and Forester, Cholm'ley and all, 
 Get shopp'd by Loraine, and in they all fall ; 
 
 And sweety Morant, that red-headed 
 
 With Peyton and Foley, are left in a ditch. 
 
 The lads of Quorendon for me. 
 
 Now plump on the saddle see Boothby, (4) the great ; 
 Why, he 's nervous this morning, and rides for a gate ; 
 And, not less plump, sits friend Bobby Spencer, (5) 
 On thumping old Milo, and bilking the fence, Sir. 
 The lads of Quorendon for me. 
 
 1. A famous hunter of Assheton Smith's. 
 
 2. A celebrated hunter, rode by Dick Knight, Lord Spencer's huntsman. 
 
 3. George, 8th Earl of Winchilsea, and 4th Earl of Nottingham, K.C, 
 Lord Lieut. County Rutland succeeded 1769 ; died 1826, unmarried. 
 
 4. " Prince" Boothby, (lived with Mr. Meynell at Langton Hall.) 
 
 5. Lord Robert Spencer. 
 
152 
 
 Then ecce Prince Orlines,(6) who's a la distance, 
 Without his d — d head, which is freedom in France; 
 But alas ! long before they reach Burrow Hill 
 ^lonsieur blows his 'orse to von total stan' still. 
 No Frenchified hunters for me. 
 
 Now bobbing along, see jolly fat Blower,(7) 
 Flanks and shoulders all blood, going slower and slower. 
 ^' Sarvant, your Holiness, what both a head and a shoe? 
 Thank God, I'm not last, for I've beat Parly vous." 
 The lads of Quorendon for me. 
 
 Then, half up the hill, stops heavy Jew Francore, 
 His horse taking root, and himself at an anchor; 
 And further beyond stops White Bread, (8) the brewer. 
 Who, last from the first, has made the Grand Tour. 
 The lads of Quorendon for me. 
 
 Then smoke the old Quiz, beginning to flag, 
 Somerset, Gad Zooks ! on his new staring nag : 
 Why look ye ! observe ! he a toe can scarce wag, 
 Yet of him to-morrow friend Charley wiJl brag. 
 The lads of Quorendon for me. 
 
 Next vaulting Tam Grah'm,(9) on horse taking whim, 
 Plunging and prancing like the George at an inn, 
 Comes spank thro' a hedge with a thundering crush, 
 And leaves half his brogues and a lug on a bush. 
 The lads of Quorendon for me. 
 
 6. Prince of Orleans. 7. A woolcomber, uf Leicester. 
 
 The late Samuel Whitbread. 9. The present Lord Lynedoch. 
 
153 
 
 Next chimney chops Aston, using arms, spur, and whip, 
 To keep MoU Cook's legs from plunging each grip ; 
 Makes he on to three rails, where sticks little Hugo, 
 Who, glad to give way, says, " Pray Sir, do you go." 
 So Smut breaks his neck, and young Master Hug 
 Slides over as snug as a bug in a rug. 
 Then Commodore Harvey, on horse he can't guide. 
 Bears to the same gap, at a seamanlike stride ; 
 Steers o'er the dead lubber, and makes three fresh wounds. 
 And at the next place kills all the tail hounds. 
 The lads of Quorendon for me. 
 
 Then next, with a star on, see Bassador Gordon, (lo) 
 And over his shoulder a fine flaming cordon ; 
 And racing against him, see stare-about Stair; (n) 
 Why old Nick himself never saw such a pair. 
 The lads of Quorendon for me. 
 
 Then whence these goose-drivers, all in a row. 
 
 Leading their tits on the furlongs below ? 
 
 'Tis Cranberry,! 1 2) George,(i3) and Saint Le Hedger (14) 
 
 from Grantham, 
 Who always get dos'd with their quotums and quantum. 
 The lads of Quorendon for me. 
 
 Then far in the rear we see Saville, forlorn, 
 All legs, laps and lappets, sobbing on Boan ; 
 How they stick in the mud; whilst Bedford's great Duke, 
 With Brommell, is sticking in Sysonby brook. 
 The lads of Quorendon for me. 
 
 10. Sir William Gordon, Ambassador to Vienna. 
 
 11. Ambassador to Poland ( John, 5th Earl of Stair, born 1749 ; died iSai. 
 Succeeded to the title 1789, which shows the song to be written after that 
 date). 
 
 12. Sir Carnaby Haggerstone, commonly called Cranberry Tart. 
 ( Succeeded 1777 ; died 1831.) 
 
 13. Lord George Cavendish (who with Mr. Boothby was at first the only 
 other subscriber to Mr. Meynell's hounds.) 
 
 14. Colonel St. Ledger. 
 
154 
 
 Next a tickle-heel sportsman, called Heyrick the black, 
 "We descry in the vale, half a league from the pack ; 
 And further beyond, see Heyrick the white, 
 A sportsman by system, who never rides straight. 
 The lads of Quorendon for me. 
 
 Then, last in the cluster, see "Worcester (15) and Muster ; 
 Now Worcester beats Muster, (16) now Muster sets 
 
 Worcester ; 
 Now Muster seems burst. Sir, and Worcester gets first, 
 
 Sir; 
 Such fumblers as these be ought both to be curst. Sir. 
 The lads of Quorendon for me. 
 
 But Bob Lee, where 's he, and wood-fisted Cox ? 
 Why they'll tell you they stopp'd to hallo the run fox ; 
 But so broad as the Smite is, we guess they got flung there, 
 And are shopped in a barn, with friend Arthur at Plungar. 
 The lads of Quorendon for me. 
 
 Now cheering all Nature, Squire Meynell we spy. 
 Making ev'ry heart thrill with his " Hark to the cry ! " 
 Look how he caps them on, hear how he screams. 
 And makes the whole world glow in rapture's extremes. 
 
 See now they seem to spread — 
 
 Lord, what a noble head ! 
 Tally ho ! Tally ho ! the hounds in full cry ! 
 
 See how the scent they drive. 
 
 No horse can with them live. 
 Hark away ! Hark away ! they to Enderby go. 
 
 15. Henry Charles, Marquis of Worcester, afterwards 6th Duke of 
 Beaufort, born 1766 ; succeeded 1803. 
 
 16. John Musters, of Colwick, born 1754, died 1827 ; father of the 
 celebrated gentleman huntsman, John Musters, born 1777. 
 
155 
 
 Next, thumbs up, heels down, see Conyer's Jack, 
 So rosy, so active, pushing right 'cross the pack ; 
 Cracking and whooping, '' ' Ware poison ! 'ware nox !" 
 Which drove Meynell stark mad, and lost us the fox. 
 
 Then, as we trudge home, we pass Master Swaddle, 
 Whipping Pastime before him, and carrying the saddle : 
 " Grood people," says he, " do you think she will die 
 Now I've bled her myself, in her mouth and her thigh ?" 
 
 " Now let's to this ale-house," says Dick, '*for awhile. 
 And drink our old Maister in a cup of the mild ; 
 And as we sit boozing it over the fire. 
 Drink long life, health, riches, and sport to the Squire." 
 
 By Mr. Loeaine Smith. 
 
 Mr. Delme Eadcliffe, in that fascinating work, called 
 *' The Noble Science of Foxhunting," gives the following 
 particulars of Mr. Loraine Smith, the author of the 
 preceding poem : — 
 
 "Of Mr. Loraine Smith, as a sportsman, it is unneces- 
 sary to speak. We may gather his character, in some 
 part, from the verses of several songs. * * * 
 The horse he rode on the day of the Billesdon Coplow 
 run was purchased of Mr. Cave Brown. He was a 
 brilliant hunter, got by Mercury. He was sold to Mr. 
 Eox Lane's father, at Bramham. Mr. Loraine Smith 
 was a skilful master of his pencil; and beneath a 
 painting, descriptive of the chase, appears the following 
 faithful record of this run : — 
 
 " A view of Mr. Meynell's hounds, carrying a head 
 with their second fox, at the end of a chase from 
 Billesdon Coplow, Leicestershire : passed Tilton Woods, 
 
.156 
 
 kSkeffington Earths, crossing the river Soar below 
 Whitstone, to Enderby Warren, making a distance of 
 twenty-eight miles, which was run in two hours and 
 fifteen minutes, on Monday, February 24th, 1800. 
 
 "I conclude this memoir with a laughable epitaph 
 upon the Enderby Squire, written some years previous 
 to his death, by a Mr. Monro, with a rejoinder by 
 another talented friend, Mr. Heyrick : — 
 
 " Here lies the tall Squire of Enderby Hall, 
 
 With his bridles, boots, fiddle, brush, colours and all. 
 
 Some liked his scraping, tho' none of the best ; 
 
 And all liked the welcome he gave to his guest. 
 
 His taste was, in horses and hounds, orthodox, 
 
 And no man can say he e'er headed the fox. 
 
 In the dog days, or frost, when the kennel was mute, 
 
 Each turn with the turn of his humour to suit ; 
 
 As the weather still changed, still his plans he would 
 
 change, 
 Now be-rhyming some Stella, now curing the mange. 
 Now the State he'd reform, now mend an old door, 
 Now scrawl a lampoon, now a caricature. 
 Ever last down at dinner, and first at a snore : 
 Sure enough he had faults, but his faults are now o'er. 
 Lack aday ! that our Enderby Squire should be lost ! 
 Can't you guess what he died of ? a bitter hard frost." 
 
 The Squire's Eesurrection, by Heyrick, Esq. 
 " Oh ! how could you bury our neighbour so soon ? 
 Why, his boots were just black'd and his fiddle in tune ; 
 Asa staunch, steady sportsman, and quite orthodox, 
 He'd been taking a glass to the hounds and the fox : 
 In his moments of mirth, he would sometimes drink deep ; 
 When you thought he was dead, he was only asleep !" 
 
 Mr. Loraine Smith died the 23rd of August, 1835, 
 in the 85th year of his age. 
 
157 
 
 A LEGEND OF THE QUOEN COUNTEIE. 
 
 "When, careful of his goods or spouse, 
 
 A strong man armed doth keep his house, 
 
 It may be termed for him a bore 
 
 To find a stronger at his door, 
 
 Who binds the strong man at his ease. 
 
 Pockets his cash and all he sees ; 
 
 And tho' he does not take his life 
 
 Is far from civil to his wife. 
 
 The ex-strong man looks on the while 
 
 Without the least desire to smile ; 
 
 At least, I take it such would be 
 
 The case, did such things chance with me. 
 
 There lived — I do not deal with dates — 
 A champion * of the heavy weights. 
 Who over Leicestershire had done 
 Great things in spite of sixteen stone ; 
 Eor many years had been admired 
 Eor going when the rest were tired ; 
 Who fear'd no timber, liked a brook, 
 Could calmly at a bullfinch look. 
 And thought himself in all his glory 
 Just at the period of my story. 
 
 But often when we feel most sure 
 We're apt to be the least secure. 
 And Gilmour, happy and content. 
 With long established precedent, 
 By all men honoured and respected, 
 Was rivall'd when he least expected. 
 
 • Mr. Little Gilmour. 
 
158 
 
 'Twas in November's dreary sky 
 
 Strange meteors were seen to fly, 
 
 And rumour spread through all the land 
 
 That some convulsion was at hand ; 
 
 And presently the fact was known 
 
 That one who weighed good seventeen stone, 
 
 Light of hand and firm of seat, 
 
 Arrived at Quorn, was bad to beat. 
 
 Well, all men deemed the fact absurd, 
 And Gilmour laughed at what he heard ; 
 And not until he saw the man 
 The sinking in his boots began. 
 
 "When first he shewed, beside the gorse. 
 
 Colossal seem'd his coal-black horse ; 
 
 His frowning brow and deep-set eye 
 
 His heart's resolve did not belie. 
 
 Not oft he smiled, but if a trace 
 
 Of mirth did flit across his face 
 
 No joy, I ween, it might impart. 
 
 But chill'd the shuddering gazer's heart ; 
 
 And Gilmour, at that harrowing look, 
 
 Down to his very small clothes shook. 
 
 When towards him with the lightning's speed 
 
 The stranger spurred his fiery steed. 
 
 "My name," he said, "is Peter Miles, f 
 And there is none like me 
 Erom Land's End to Northumberland 
 And all the North Countrie. 
 
 t Colonel Charles Miles. 
 
159 
 
 " You Melton men, ye Leicester knaves, 
 Come ride with me, say I, 
 Five minutes over Skeffington, 
 And then lie down and die. 
 
 "I've heard of you, Sir Grilliemore, 
 I know you 're all my eye ; 
 I'll cut you down, and hang you up. 
 Aye, hang you up to dry ! 
 
 " Tou funking wretch, I know you, 
 How you shudder at a rail ! 
 How you shun the bristly bullfinch, 
 And at a brook turn tail. 
 
 " So here I seize your trophies 
 With every mark of scorn. 
 And hang up your reputation 
 In the dining room at Quorn." 
 
 He ceased — I fear my voice must fail 
 To tell the sequel of my tale : 
 But he who was not wont to brook 
 A hasty word or angry look, 
 Now, with a meek submissive face, 
 Yielded the trophies of the chase ; 
 Without a blow resigned his sway. 
 And Miles, triumphant, leads the way. 
 Thenceforth from gates and brooks he shrunk, 
 Thenceforth by all was called a "funk." 
 Such is the fate of human glory, 
 Such the sad sequel to my story. 
 
160 
 
 I cannot tell the year of grace 
 In whicli these things were taking place ; 
 But this I know, a portly Squire 
 Now bruises over Leicestershire, 
 Whom Sutton X loveth to commend 
 His " Guide, Philosopher and Friend," 
 And none with him dispute the right 
 To lead the field from morn to night. 
 But tho' among the thrusting train 
 You seek for Gilmour's face in vain, 
 Wait till the second horsemen pass, 
 You see a form — tis his, alas ! 
 A heavy man who funks the stiles. 
 And shudders at the name of " Miles." 
 
 MOHAL. 
 
 Such is the lot of mortal man ! 
 Where Gilmour ended, Miles began ; 
 And Miles in turn must yield his sway, 
 For " every dog must have his day." 
 
 W. Dayenpoet Beomlet. 
 
 HUNTING SONG OF SIR HARET 
 GOODRICKE'S TIME. 
 
 The lark forgets her summer song. 
 
 The rose forgets its bloom, 
 And murky clouds are borne along 
 
 To aid the wintry gloom. 
 
 t Sir Richard Sutton hunted the Quorn cimntry from 1 847 
 till his death in 1855. 
 
161 
 
 The woods, where nature hung her lute 
 To teach sweet birds her tone, 
 
 Are hush'd ; the sylvan groves are mute ; 
 The hills are pensive grown ; 
 
 The dancing ripples of the lake 
 
 Are changed to sullen waves ; 
 The solitary water-crake 
 
 Its cheerless bosom laves. 
 
 But joy awakes the sluggish morn. 
 
 The mists now melt away ; 
 The huntsman blithely winds his horn, 
 
 The willing hounds obey. 
 
 Sir Harry 's (i) forward in the field, 
 Greene,(2) Gardner,(3) sportsmen true ! 
 
 And more to whom bright fame must yield 
 The praises justly due. 
 
 Lord Wilton,(4) Stanley,(5) Errington,(6) 
 Seem scarce to touch the rein, 
 
 As gallantly they rush along 
 O'er hill and grassy plain. 
 
 1. Sir Harry Goodricke, died 1833. 
 
 2. Mr. Greene, of Eolleston, afterwards Master of the Quom Hotinds 
 from i84i to 1S47. 
 
 3. Lord Gardner, died 1883. 
 
 4. Lord Wilton, died 1884. 
 
 5. Mr. Massey Stanley, Mr. Errington's brother. 
 
 6. Mr. Errington, afterwards Master of the Quom Hounds from 1835 
 to 1838. 
 
162 
 
 *' There 's Greene, as usual, far before," 
 Cries handsome Edward Thynne ; (7) 
 
 Kinnaird,(8) and Eokeby,(9) and Grilmour — (10) 
 By Jove, I must nick in 1 " 
 
 He said, then urged his gallant steed. 
 
 No fence for him too high ; 
 He look'd the true bold hunter bred — 
 
 " Toiks, yoiks, the fox shall die ! " 
 
 '• Maher (11) and Moore (12) still take their stand 
 
 High in the list of fame, 
 And friendship wreathes the social band 
 
 With Musgrave's (13) sporting name. 
 
 Melton ! again that sportsman's town 
 
 Boasts many a noble guest ; 
 Statesmen and heroes of renown 
 
 The exulting soil have pressed. 
 
 Long, long may we those names enrol, 
 
 And Groodricke's (14) lend a grace. 
 For fame to waft from pole to pole 
 
 The triumphs of the chase. 
 
 From the Sporting Magazine foe 1841. 
 
 7. Lord Edward Thynne. 
 
 8. Lord Kinnaird. 
 g. Lord Rokeby. 
 
 10. Mr. Little Gilmour,_ living 1885. 
 
 11. Valentine Maher, died 1844. 
 
 12. Mr. Moore, son of the Archbishop of Canterbury. 
 
 13. Sir James Musgrave. 
 
 14. Sir Harry Goodricke, died 1833. 
 
163 
 
 BILLESDON COPLOW. 
 Monday, Febeuaey 24:TH, 1800. 
 
 " Quceque ipse miserrima vidi, ei quorum pars magna fuiJ' 
 
 With the wmd at north-east, forbiddingly keen, 
 The Coplow of Billesdon ne'er witness'd, I ween, 
 Two hundred such horses and men at a burst — 
 All determin'd to ride, each resolved to be first. 
 But to get a good start over eager and jealous. 
 Two-thirds at the least o£ these very fine fellows 
 So crowded and hustled, and jostled and cross'd. 
 That they rode the wrong way, and at starting were lost. 
 In spite o£ th' unpromising state of the weather 
 Away broke the fox and the hounds close together j 
 A burst up to Tilton, so brilliantly ran. 
 Was scarce ever seen in the mem'ry of man : 
 What hounds gained the scent, or which led the way. 
 Your bard, to their names quite a stranger, can't say, 
 Tho' their names, had he known, he is free to confess 
 His horse could not shew him at such a death pace. 
 Villiers, Cholmondeley, and ^Forrester made such sharp 
 
 play, 
 Not omitting Germain, never seen till to-day ; 
 Had you judged of these four by the trim of their pace 
 At Bib'ry you'd think they'd been riding a race. 
 But these hounds, with a scent, how they dash and they 
 
 fling! 
 To o'er-ride them is quite the impossible thing. 
 Disdaining to hang in the Wood, thro' he raced, 
 And the open for Skeffington gallantly faced. 
 Where, headed and foiled, his first point he forsook, 
 And merrily led them a dance o'er the brook. 
 
164 
 
 Passed Galby and Norton, Great Stretton and Small, 
 Eight onward still sweeping to old Stretton Hall, 
 Where two minutes' check serv'd to shew, at one ken, 
 The extent of the havoc 'mongst horses and men : 
 Such sighing, such sobbing, such trotting, such walking, 
 Such reeling, such halting, of fences such baulking ; 
 Such a smoke in the gaps, such comparing of notes. 
 Such quizzing each other's daub'd breeches and coats. 
 Here a man walked afoot who his horse had half killed, 
 There you met with a steed who his rider had spill'd ; 
 In short, such dilemmas, such scrapes, such distress 
 One fox ne'er occasion'd, the knowing confess. 
 But, alas, the dilemmas had hardly begun ! 
 On for Wigston and Ayleston he resolute ran. 
 Where a few of the stoutest now slacken'd and panted, 
 And many were seen irretrievably planted. 
 The high road to Leicester the scoundrel then crossed, 
 As Tell Tale (i) and Beaufremont (2) found to their cost ; 
 And Yilhers esteem'd it a serious bore 
 That no longer could Shuttlecock (3) fly as before. 
 Even Joe Miller's (4) spirit of fun was so broke 
 That he ceased to consider the run as a joke. 
 Then, streaming away, o'er the river he splashed, 
 Germain, close at hand, off the bank Melon (5) dash'd : 
 Why the Dun prov'd so stout in a scamper so wild — 
 Till now he had only been rode by a Child. (6) 
 After him plung'd Joe Miller, with Musters so slim. 
 Who twice sank and nearly paid dear for his whim, 
 Not reflecting that all water melons must swim. 
 
 I. Tell Tale.— Mr. Forrester's horse. 
 
 8. Mr. Maddock's horse. 
 
 3. Lord Villiers' horse. 
 
 4. Mr. Musters' horse. 
 
 5. Mr. Germain's horse. 
 
 6. Formerly the property of Mr. Child, to whom this Hunt is perhaps 
 indebted for the present spirited style of riding to hounds. 
 
165 
 
 Well sous'd by their dip on they bmsli'd o'er the bottom, 
 With liquor on board enough to besot 'em. 
 But the villain, no longer at all at a loss, 
 Stretch'd away like a devil for Enderby Gorse, 
 Where, meeting with many a brother and cousin, 
 Who knew how to dance a good hay in the furzen, 
 Jack Eaven (7) at length, coming up on a hack 
 Which a farmer had lent him, whipp'd off the game 
 
 pack. 
 Eunning sulky, old Loadstone (8) the stream w5uld not 
 
 swim. 
 No longer sport proving a magnet to him. 
 Of mistakes and mishaps, and what each man befell, 
 Would the Muse could with justice poetical tell ! 
 Bob Grrosvenor on Plush, (9) tho' determin'd to ride. 
 Lost at first a good start, and was soon set aside ; 
 Tho' he charg'd hill and dale, not to lose this rare chase, 
 On Velvet, Plush could not get footing, alas ! 
 To Tilton sail'd bravely Sir Wheeler O'Cuff, 
 Vv^here, neglecting thro' hurry to keep a good Luff", 
 To leeward he drifts — how provoking a case ! 
 And was forc'd, tho' reluctant, to give up the chase. 
 As making his way to the pack 's not his forte. 
 Sir Lawley, (10) as usual, lost half of the sport : 
 But then the professed philosophical creed. 
 That " All's for the best " of Master Candide, 
 If not comfort, Sir E. reconcile may at least, 
 For on this supposition his sport is the best. 
 Orby Hunter, who seem'd to be hunting his fate. 
 Got falls to the tune of no fewer than eight. 
 
 7. Jack Raven, the huntsman. 
 
 8. The huntsman's horse. 
 
 g, Mr. Robert Grosvenor's horse. 
 
 10. Sir Robert Lawley, not unusually, in the brief language of Melton, 
 called Sir Lawley. 
 
166 
 
 Basan's King (n) upon Glimpse, (12) sadly out of 
 
 condition, 
 Puird up to avoid of being tir'd the suspicion. 
 He did right, for Og very soon found 
 His worst had he done, he'd have scarce ghmps'd a 
 
 hound. 
 Charles Meynell, who lay very well with the hounds, 
 Till at Stretton he nearly arrived at the bounds, 
 !N"ow discover'd that Waggoner (13) rather would creep 
 Than exert his great prowess in taking a leap ; 
 But when crossing the turnpike he read, " Put on here," 
 'Twas enough to make anyone bluster and swear. 
 The Waggoner, feeling familiar the road, 
 Was resolv'd not to quit it, so stock still he stood. 
 Yet prithee, dear Charles, why rash vows do you make, 
 Thy leave of old Billesdon (14) to finally take ? 
 Since from Seg's Hill (15) for instance, or p'r'aps 
 
 Melton Spinney, 
 If they go a good pace you are beat for a guinea. 
 'Tis money, they say, makes the mare to go kind — 
 The proverb has vouch'd for this time out of mind ; 
 But tho' of this truth you admit the full force, 
 It may not hold so good of every horse. 
 If it did, Ellis Charles need not hustle and hug 
 By name, not by nature, his favourite Slug. (16) 
 Yet, Slug as he is, the whole of this chase 
 Charles ne'er could have seen had he gone a snail's pace. 
 
 11. Mr. Oglander, who, according to the same dialect, goes by the more 
 familiar appellation of Og. 
 
 12. Mr. Oglander's horse. 
 
 13. Mr. Charles Meynell's horse. 
 
 14.^ He had threatened never again to attempt following the hounds 
 from Billesdon, as no horse could carry his weight up to them in that part of 
 the country. 
 
 15. A very diflferent part of the Hunt. 
 
 16. Mr. Charles Ellis's horse. 
 
167 
 
 Old Gradus, (17) whose fretting and fuming at first, 
 Disqualified strangely for sucli a tight burst, 
 Ere to Tilton arriv'd ceas'd to pull and to crave, 
 And tho' freshish at Stretton lie stepp'd a Pas grave, 
 Where, in turning him over a cramp kind of place. 
 He overturned G-eorge, whom he threw on his face ; 
 And on foot to walk home it had sure been his fate. 
 But that soon he was caught, and tied up to a gate. 
 Near Wigston occurred a most singular joke : 
 Captain Miller avow'd that his leg he had broke. 
 And bemoan'd in most piteous expressions how hard, 
 By so cruel a fracture, to have his sport marr'd. 
 In quizzing his friends he felt little remorse, 
 To finesse the complete doing up of his horse. 
 Had he told a long story of losing a shoe. 
 Or of laming his horse, he very well knew 
 That the Leicestershire creed out this truism worms, 
 *'Lost shoes and dead beat are synonymous terms." (18) 
 So a horse must here learn, whatever he does, 
 To die game, as at Tyburn, and " die in his shoes." 
 Bethel Cox and Tom Smith, Messieurs Bennet and 
 
 Hawke, 
 Their nags all contrived to reduce to a walk. 
 Maynard's Lord, who detests competition and strife. 
 As well in the chase as in social life. 
 Than whom nobody harder has rode in his time. 
 But to Crane (19) now and then now thinks it no crime, 
 That he beat some crack riders most fairly may crow. 
 
 17. Mr. George Ellis's horse. 
 
 i8._ Indeed, so implicit is this article of the Meltonian belief, that many a 
 horse, in addition to the misfortune of breaking a hoof from losing his shoe, 
 has laboured likewise under the aforesaid unavoidable imputation, to his 
 everlasting disgrace. 
 
 19. Crane.— The term derives its origin from the necessary extension of 
 neck of such sportsmen as dare to incur the reproach by venturing to look 
 before they lecp. 
 
168 
 
 For he liv'd to the end, though he scarcely knows how. 
 With Snaffle and Martingale kept in his real*, 
 His horse's mouth open half up to his ear, 
 Mr. Wardle, who threatened great things overnight, (20) 
 Beyond Stretton was left in most terrible phght : 
 Too lean to be pressed, yet egged on by compulsion, 
 No wonder his nag tumbled into convulsion. 
 Ah ! had he but lost a fore-shoe, or fell lame, 
 'Twould only his sport have curtail'd, not his fame. (21) 
 Loraine, (22) than whom no one his game plays more 
 
 safe, 
 Who the last, than the first, prefers seeing by half; 
 What with nicking (23) and keeping a constant look out, 
 Every turn of the scent surely turn'd to account. 
 The wonderful pluck of his horse surprised some. 
 But he knew they were making point blank for his 
 
 home. 
 " Short home" to be brought we all should desire 
 Could we manage the trick like the Enderby Squire. (24) 
 Wild Shelley, (25) at starting, all ears and all eyes, 
 Who, to get a good start, all experiments tries ; 
 Yet contrived it so ill as to throw out poor Gripsy, (26) 
 Whom he rattled along as if he'd been tipsy ; 
 
 20. Who was said to have threatened that he would beat the whole field 
 the next day. 
 
 21. For which express purpose, more than sport, some are silly enough 
 to suppose he hunts ; and which, though he did actually succeed in one 
 instance some seasons ago, he probably will never do again, having threatened 
 it frequently since with as little success. 
 
 22. Mr. Loraine Smith. 
 
 23. A term of great reproach, according to the above dialect, to those 
 who are so shabby as to cut across to the hounds, when it is eeteemed so 
 much more honourable to follow their very track ; by which spirited line of 
 conduct they may be pretty certain of never seeing them at all. 
 
 24. Where Mr. Loraine Smith lives. 
 
 25. Sir John Shelley.— Wild with joy upon these occasions, must be here 
 meant, as no one can be personally more serious and sedate ; indeed, if the 
 worthy Baronet has a foible it is gravity. 
 
 26. Sir John Shelley's mare. 
 
169 
 
 To catch them agam, but tho' famous for speed, 
 
 She never could touch (27) them, much less get a lead. (28) 
 
 So dishearten'd, (29) disjointed, and beat, home he 
 
 swings, 
 Not much unlike a fidler hung upon strings. 
 An H. H., (30) who in Leicestershire never had been, 
 So of course such a tickler (31) ne'er could have seen, 
 Just to see them throw off, on a raw (32) horse was 
 
 mounted. 
 Who a hound had ne'er seen, or a fence had confronted. 
 But they found in such style, (33) and went off at such 
 
 score, (34) 
 That he could not resist the attempt to see more : 
 So with scrambling, (35) and dashing, (36) and one rattling 
 
 fall, (37) 
 
 27. Touch. — Meaning, according to the jMelton dialect, overtake. 
 
 28. Get a lead.— By which it is to be understood securing the privilege 
 of breaking your mck first, and when you fall, of being rode overby a 
 hundred and ninety-nine of the best fellows upon earth.to a a?m^ certainty. 
 
 29. Nor can that astonish anyone, when it is considered what an ines- 
 timable privilege he has lost. 
 
 30. It is not clear whether these initials are meant to apply to a Hamp- 
 shire Hog or the Hampshire Hunt. If to the hog, it does not appear that he 
 saved his bacon. 
 
 31. Tickler (Meltonian).— A run so severe that there is no laughing at it. 
 
 32. Raw.— A horse who knew nothing of th© business he was going about, 
 or wished to know. 
 
 33. Style means the best possible manner of doing anythmg : as 
 for instance, when a man rides his horse full speed at double posts and 
 rails, with a squire trap on the other side (which is a moderate ditch of about 
 two yards wide, cut on purpose to break gentlemen's necks), he is then 
 reckoned to have rode at it in style, especially if he is caught in the said 
 squire trap. 
 
 34. Score means that kind of pace which perhaps neither you nor your 
 horse ever went before, and if you have not more luck than fails to the share of 
 every first experiment of the kind, 'tis ten to one but he falls before he can 
 (what they call) get on his legs— in which case you may rest perfectly satisfied 
 that he must roll over you two or three times at least before he can stop 
 himself. 
 
 35. Scrambling means, when a horse does not leave above three of his 
 legs behind him, and saves himself by pitching on his head. 
 
 36. Dashing means, when a man charges a fence (which no other word 
 can express so fully), on the other side of which it is impossible to guess what 
 mischief awaits him, but where his getting a fall is reduced as nearly as pos- 
 sible to a moral certainty. 
 
 37. Rattling fall, Q.E.D. 
 
170 
 
 He saw all the fun up to Stretton's white hall. 
 There they anchor'd — in plight not a little distressing, 
 The horse being raw, he of course got a dressing. 
 That wonderful mare ol Vanneck's, who till now 
 By no chance ever tir'd, (38) was taken in tow : 
 And, what's worse, she gave Van such a devilish jog 
 In the face with her head, plunging out of a bog, 
 That with eye black as ink, or as Edward's fam'd 
 
 Prince, 
 Half blind has he been, and quite deaf ever since. 
 " But let not that mortify thee, Shacaback/' (39) 
 She only was blown, (40) and came home a rare hack. 
 There Craven, too, stopp'd, whose misfortune, not fault, 
 His mare unaccountably vex'd with string-halt ; (41) 
 And when she had ceas'd thus spasmodic to prance. 
 Her mouth 'gan to twitch with St. Yitus's dance. (41) 
 But how shall describ'd be the fate of Eose Price, (42) 
 Whose fav'rite white gelding convey'd him so nice 
 Thro' thick and thro' thin, that he vow'd and protested, (43) 
 No money should part them as long as life lasted ? 
 
 38. Which, if other proof were wanting, ascertains beyond anything 
 else the severity of this chase. 
 
 39. A familiar appellation, borrowed from Blue Beard, and bestowed by 
 his friends at Melton on Mr. Vanneck, than whom nothing can more 
 thoroughly prove the estimation in which his society is held there, since none 
 but good fellows are ever esteemed, according to the Meltonian principles, 
 worthy of a nickname. 
 
 40 Which was his own observation, the merit of which I would scorn to 
 assume, but for the truth of which (at least the latter assertion) I can vouch, as 
 I perfectly agree with him, that I never saw a more complete hack, though 
 he is pleased to call her a hunter. 
 
 41 — 41. Two nervous affections, in every sense of the word very distres- 
 sing, especially to a bystander who cannot command his risible muscles upon 
 so melancholy an occasion. 
 
 42. A gentleman, of whom it has been commonly said,_ that he never 
 returned from hunting but his horse was sure to be either lame or 
 knocked up. 
 
 43. At the cover-side his horse had been particularly admired, and a 
 considerable sum of money offered for him. 
 
171 
 
 But the pace (44) that effected, which money could not, 
 For to part, and in death ! was their no distant lot : 
 In a fatal blind ditch Carlo Khan's (45) prowess failed. 
 Where no lancet (46) nor laudanum (46) either availed. 
 More care (47) of a horse than he took could take no man, 
 He'd more straw than would serve any lying-in woman. 
 Still he died ! Yet just how, as nobody knows. 
 It may truly be said, he died " under the Eose." 
 At the death of poor Khan, Melton (48) feels such 
 
 remorse, 
 That they've christen'd that ditch, the Vale of White 
 
 Horse ! 
 Thus ended a chase, w^hich for distance and speed 
 Its fellow we never have heard of or read ; 
 Every species of ground every horse does not suit — 
 What's a good country hunter (49) may here prove a 
 
 brute ; 
 
 44. Which is a complete answer to that important question, so vauntingly 
 asked by a favourite poet, when he exclaims, in language indeed some- 
 what bold, — "Pray, what can do that which money cannot?" 
 
 45. The name of poor Mr. Price's horse. 
 
 46 — 46. Two excellent restoratives where the patient is not too far gone ; 
 where he is (as in the present case'., inimitable soporifics. 
 
 47. Indeed, it is only to be lamented, that :Mr. P. had not taken rather 
 more care of him a little earlier in the day, which probably would have 
 obviated the necessity of this accouchement. 
 
 48. Which redounds highly to the credit and the sympathy of the Melton 
 gentlemen, and completely refutes a very ill-natured but groundless sup- 
 position, that their sensibility will ever suffer them to make a joke of any 
 such heavy loss a gentleman may happen to sustain, especially if the gentle- 
 man happens likewise to be heavy himself, which cf course doubles the 
 weight of the misfortune, 
 
 49. As every country gentleman may not comprehend the force of this 
 expression, he ought to know that the Meltonians hold every horse who can- 
 not "Go along a slapping pace"—" Stay at that pace"— "Skim ridge and 
 furrow "— " Catch his horses "— " Top a flight of rails "— " Come well mto the 
 next field" — "Charge an oxfence" — "Go in and out clever" — "Face a 
 brook" — "Swish at a rasper"— and in short, "Do all that kind of thing" 
 which are all so plain and intelligible, that it is impossible to mistake their 
 meaning, — that horse is held in the same contempt, in Leicestershire, as a 
 coxcomb holds a country bumpkin. In vulgar countries (i.e., all others), 
 where these accomplishments are not indispensable, he may be a hunter. 
 
172 
 
 And unless for all sorts of strange fences prepared, 
 A horse and liis rider are sure to be scared. 
 'Tis variety gives constant life to the chase. 
 But as Forrester (50) says, "Sir, what kills is the pace." (5 1) 
 In most other countries they boast o£ their breed, 
 For carrying, at times, such a beautiful head ; 
 But these hounds to carry a Head cannot fail, 
 And constantly, too, for by George ! there's no Tail. (52) 
 Talk of horses and hounds, and the system of kennel, 
 G-ive me Leicestershire nags and the hounds of Old 
 Meynell. 
 
 By Me. Lowth, 
 
 Memoib of the Mastership of the Fifth 
 Duke of Buccletjch, 
 
 WALTER FEANCIS MONTAGU DOUGLAS SCOTT, 
 
 Born 1806; Died 1884. 
 
 His Grace, in 1824, when eighteen years of age (with 
 the consent of his guardians), bought the hounds of Mr. 
 Baird, of Newbyth (grandfather of the present Sir 
 David), who continued to manage them until his Grace's 
 majority in 1827, in which year he took up the country 
 
 50. a gentleman who practically explains all the above accomplishments, 
 to the great edification of young horses and the no less astonishment of weak 
 minds. 
 
 51. A favourite maxim of Mr. Forrester's, of the truth of which he seldom 
 loses an opportunity of endeavouring to make his friends thoroughly sensible. 
 
 52. As heads and tails are here not to be understood in the common 
 acceptation of the words, and as all ladies are not sportswomen enough to be 
 aware that they have no reference to the human head or tail, they should 
 know that, when you can "cover the hounds with a sheet" (which any Mel- 
 tonian will explain to them more particularly), they are then said to carry a 
 beautiful head. When (on the contrary) they follow the leader in a line, like 
 a flight of wild fowl, they are then said to tail. 
 
173 
 
 till then hunted by Mr. Baillie, of Mellerstain, which he 
 hunted, unaided, until his death. 
 
 Frank Collinson hunted them for about a year after 
 his Grace bought them, when, having a bad fall, 
 Williamson, who had been first whip for about twelve 
 years, and second for seven previously, became 
 huntsman in the spring of 1825, and continued so until 
 1862. Tom Philhps succeeded him for one year, when 
 he left, and I succeeded him in the spring of 1863 ; thus 
 making his Grace a master of the same pack fifty-nine 
 years. Collinson, who whipped-in to John King, 
 succeeded him as huntsman, but did not continue long. 
 He was pensioned by the Lothian Hunt, and lived for 
 many years after, and chiefly rode young horses for his 
 Grace with the hounds. 
 
 Old Will began fife with Colonel Hamilton, of Pen- 
 eaitland, in the stables, his father being groom. He 
 entered to hounds under John King in 1815, after- 
 wards marrying John King's daughter. 
 
 So primitive was kennel management in those days, 
 that he has often told me how F. Collinson used to start 
 off the night before hunting, with a knife and sack, 
 going to where they knew a horse had died, skin the 
 horse, score him (like scoring a piece of pork), and come 
 that way home next day after hunting, and let the 
 hounds have their bellyful of him, bringing the skin 
 home in the sack in front of him on the horse. What 
 would a whip of the present day say to you if you were 
 to ask him to do this now ? Wilhamson thought no 
 shame in telHng that he knew nothing at all about ken- 
 nel management when he got the hounds (nor were any 
 others about here then any fitter), and in order that he 
 might learn something more about it, and his business, he 
 rode to Eddlethorpe, near Malton,to engage a kennelman 
 
174 
 
 from old Tom Carter, who hunted Sir Mark Sykes' 
 hounds then, and engaged John Fobert as feeder, and 
 had him at Dalkeith for several years, and all he ever 
 knew of kennel management he learned from him. He 
 was father of the trainer, John Fobert, who afterwards 
 trained for Lord Eglinton. 
 
 I am very glad you have asked me for those dates, as 
 I have had them so many times from the late Dake him- 
 self, who delighted to tell you anything connected with the 
 hounds and country ; and from "Williamson I think I 
 may have learned more about the country then and now 
 hunted by the Duke than you might now get from any 
 other quarter. As far as I could make out from him, the 
 hounds of that day were very much the same as his 
 Grace liked to have now — light, racing, rather leggy 
 hounds. Of late years they are shorter on the 
 leg, and a little more bone — what old Will and his 
 Grrace to the last called lumber. 
 
 I hope these few notes may be of service to you. If 
 so, I will be very pleased. 
 
 (From Col. Anstruther Thomson.) 
 
 William Shore. 
 
 IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 GEORGE WHYTE-MELYILLE, 
 
 Died 1878. 
 
 The engineer by his own petard slain. 
 
 The eagle pierced by shaft from his own wing. 
 
 Are plaintive fancies such as poets sing, 
 
 And touch the heart but coldly, thro' the brain. 
 
175 
 
 But thou, dear George, in thine own sport thus ta'en, 
 
 In all the prime of manhood, and the swing 
 
 Of gallant gallop, struck stone dead ! the thing 
 
 Appals and petrifies the mind with pain. 
 
 Bright, brave, and tender, poesy's pet child, 
 
 Romance and history's lore alike were thine ; 
 
 Thy wit ne'er wounded, yet the contest won. 
 
 For at thy jests the gravest dullard smiled. 
 
 Last scion of an ancient Scottish line. 
 
 Whose " old folks " live to mourn their only son. 
 
 Lord Eosslyn. 
 
 EXTRACT PEOM "BAILY," 1871. 
 
 " Why is it we so seldom hunt up to a fox on a cold 
 scent, and pick him up creditably at the end — so ordinary 
 an occurrence in countries where one would imagine it 
 more difficult of accomplishment ? Captain Thomson 
 does, but no one else can. It is far from my business 
 to " crab " the hunting of the crack packs, but there 
 must be a solution to the problem somewhere. Un- 
 doubtedly the perfection of a run in these parts is five 
 and twenty minutes, with a scent over which hounds 
 need not falter throughout, and a kill in the open of 
 course adds brilliancy to it. This is the sort of thing 
 that men come down to Leicestershire to see — that they 
 go out every day in hopes of— that is not often to be met 
 with even there; but, when experienced, brings with it 
 a supreme delight that is not to be found anywhere else. 
 A long slow run in a fiying country is often irksome in 
 the extreme, particularly when it degenerates into 
 hedgerow hunting; but it too often happens that, as 
 
176 
 
 soon as hounds cease to go fast, losing the fox instead 
 of killing him becomes merely a matter of time. Mind, 
 I do not say as soon as hounds have to put their heads 
 down, which is the form in which detractors of the " cut 
 'em down " countries couch their attacks ; for I believe 
 herein Hes part at least of the explanation. My idea is, 
 that so long as grass retains a scent at all, hounds can 
 move quick over it, and improve it as they go along ; in 
 other words, that when they can run at all they can run 
 fast, and that when there is such a failure of scent as 
 to cripple them, they would not be able to own it at all on 
 the plough. The Midlands are by no means uninterrupted 
 grass, so one has frequent opportunity of observing 
 that when hounds seem to be carrying a fair head over 
 the turf, a fallow or two stops them at once. Another 
 thing is, that foxes take a great deal more killing here 
 than they do elsewhere ; they are of a stouter breed 
 (most districts having at sometime or other been stocked 
 with bold Highlanders), and from the distance apart, 
 and the small extent of the covers, they travel 
 more, and are always fit to go before hounds ; so 
 if they once get ahead and able to take their own time, 
 they are by no means easily overhauled. The real way 
 to kill foxes in the Shires is to get away close at them, 
 and burst them at starting. The scent is then hot and 
 firm, the hounds are not over-ridden by the field, the 
 foxes have no time to twist or run cunning, and, be it 
 a good scenting day or a bad one, there is more chance 
 of accounting for them than by trusting to slow hunting. 
 But in order to do this, a huntsman must have his pack 
 under perfect command, and it is absolutely essential 
 that he should be effectively whipped up to. To this 
 talent of getting his hounds quickly to him does Gillard 
 owe his success, and through it has he so often been able 
 
177 
 
 to provide sport in accordance with the taste of the 
 present day. 
 
 " The best run the Belvoir had last season was on 
 the loth of Eebruary, when, starting from Coston 
 Covert, they hunted steadily for between two and three 
 hours (I forget the exact time), going well for the 
 greater part, and after reaching and traversing the woods 
 of Morkery, and completely " sewing up " all single 
 horses, at last killed in Grunby Warren. The hounds 
 appeared to be never once olf the line ; and the opinion 
 that they had not changed on the road was strengthened 
 by their fox being as stiff as a board when taken from 
 the hounds — a thing one often hears of, but seldom sees. 
 Let credit be given where credit is due. Their hunts- 
 man, Gillard, is undeniable. Starting originally from 
 the Belvoir, he went to school under Mr. Musters, who 
 taught him his work in Nottinghamshire, and then 
 brought him to handle his lady-pack over the Quorn 
 grass. Here for two seasons he did justice to his 
 hounds, country, and Master, and has now mounted 
 the top step of the ladder. He has a whip, too, who 
 has learned to put hounds to him as quick as lightning. 
 Without a good whip there cannot be a good huntsman, 
 and it is a question whether a bad whip does not do 
 more harm than good; at all events, more than one 
 instance occurred last season of an indifferent one 
 completely spoiling a promised run. Jack Goddard is 
 set down as having been almost the cleverest whip that 
 has ridden over Leicestershire in modern times ; while 
 Machin, who was with the Quorn under Mr. Musters, 
 and is now, I fancy, playing at fox and hounds among 
 the flints and hops of Kent, was as good a model as 
 could be chosen ; for he never whipped hounds blindly 
 off a scent, but put them round sharp when necessary, 
 
 M 
 
178 
 
 could ride like a bird, and was always in his proper place. 
 Alas ! Mr. Musters' brilliant pack are no longer the 
 Quorn. After three seasons, in which they have shewn 
 themselves possessed of all those qualities preeminently 
 needful for the Shires, they are now about to return to 
 Nottinghamshire, where Mr. Musters resumes his old 
 country. No hounds in the world could beat them to 
 fly on a good scent, every single hound greedy to lay 
 hold of it. Carrying it before them without one idler 
 to take things for granted, they would spread themselves 
 out, so that the sharpest turn seldom threw them at 
 fault. And, with all their dash and eagerness, it was 
 especially notable that they never allowed themselves to 
 flash a yard over the line, or even to strike forward in 
 hopes of picking it up again beyond the point to which 
 they had brought it — so common a weakness o£ courage 
 and excitement. Of course it has sometimes happened 
 that they have been determinedly driven over the line 
 by the impetuous, thoughtless crowd behind them, but 
 often have I seen them, when running hard, spread 
 right and left the moment they missed the guiding per- 
 fume from their nostrils, then, circling round again, 
 take it up in front, and dash ofl" once more with equal 
 vigour. Tor actual pace in a burst, it is a question if 
 even the Belvoir could compare with them ; and yet they 
 never forgot the lessons in steady hunting they had 
 learnt in the colder land of Nottinghamshire. The great 
 difficulty they had ever to fight against was the over- 
 grown size of the Quorn fields — fields composed of every 
 variety of element, the genuine by no means predomin- 
 ating on all occasions. For instance, the huge cavalcade 
 that troops forth to join the chase whenever it is fixed 
 for anywhere in the neighbourhood of Leicester or 
 Loughboro', is indeed an incongruous one ; though, true, 
 
179 
 
 a Friday meet can also boast of such a corps of hard 
 and finished riders as is not to be seen at the covert-side 
 elsewhere. On these occasions it is next to impossible 
 to secure fair play for the hounds, should the scent be 
 a poor one, or the fox a twister. Hunting is out of the 
 question, and all that can be hoped for is a straight, quick 
 gallop, w^hen the pack can keep moving steadily onwards. 
 But here we are reminded of another point which mili- 
 tates greatly against any certainties o£ sport, even in the 
 favoured regions we are discussing; and that is the 
 difficulties that beset the path of a fox, however well dis- 
 posed, indeed the marvel is, that we ever find one bold 
 enough to face the open at all. As he crosses the big grass 
 fields he has no shelter from the eye of shepherd or 
 traveller, who can view him a mile away, and who are 
 only too dehghted with the chance of exercising their 
 lungs, and proving their love of sport, by sending 
 screeches o£ fearful import after him. They are still 
 better pleased if they can get a sheep dog to course him, 
 and many a time have I heard a gentle bucolic recount 
 with glee how he " seed him a coming, looed on the old 
 dog, and uncommon nigh catched him." The sheepdogs 
 themselves have a natural predilection for chasing a fox ; 
 and though, w^hen they succeed in coming up to him he 
 can invariably drive them off, the run is generally ruined 
 by their interference. More sport is spoiled by these 
 pastoral scourges than any other cause ; for there would 
 seem to be a separate dog kept for each sheep in 
 Leicestershire, and they are ever on the alert to do 
 mischief. * ^ ^ * * 
 
 It was said only the other day by a sportsman who 
 numbered his years of hunting by scores, that " he had 
 seen one lot of riding men succeed another in Leicester- 
 shire, but he had never seen so many or so hard as those 
 of the present day." Lord Wilton's name will be 
 
180 
 
 handed down to generations to come as the most 
 finished rider of his day ; though the past season only 
 saw him out once, and it was even feared at one time 
 that he would hunt no more. Lord G-rey de Wilton 
 though is never likely to let the family name lose its 
 celebrity, for he will not be beat in the field. The fence 
 is never too big or the pace too quick for him ; he never 
 takes his eye off the hounds when they are running, or 
 at a momentary difficulty, and is invariably close at 
 them; and riding vigorously at all his fences, is down 
 but seldom. To go straight down to a rasper, without 
 turning a yard right or left, no man that ever crossed 
 Leicestershire can surpass Sir Frederick Johnstone; 
 and no matter how wide the brook or strong the oxer, 
 he will not be separated from the hounds. Nor has he 
 only the merit of being hard, for besides being a fine 
 horseman, he is as quick away as a rabbit ; and should 
 hounds slip suddenly ofi*, he is almost certain to get 
 away on the best of terms wdth them, though he may 
 have been unnoticeable before. Mr. Eorster, too, who 
 so astonished the natives during his first season in these 
 parts (the one before last, 1869 — 70) by the way he 
 used to ride at big timber, still keeps up his character ; 
 and of late, has built his reputation chiefly on his talent 
 for negotiating the almost impracticable " bottoms " 
 with which the country abounds. * * * 
 
 Now we come to one who has made a wider name for 
 himself than the world of Leicestershire has given him, 
 and who, when well mounted, and in the full glory of a 
 stiff country, should be seen to be appreciated, viz., 
 Captain Smith, of steeplechase renown. * * -x- 
 Lord Calthorpe was going as straight as anyone last 
 season ; Colonel Forester seems to have lost neither 
 nerve nor keenness ; and Mr. Little Gilmour enjoys his 
 hunting as much, and forms as leading and pleasant a 
 
181 
 
 feature in the field as ever. * * :k 
 
 Mr. Banks Wright was again out with the Quorn several 
 times this season, and gave all the younger generation 
 a chance of picking up a wrinkle. At the top of the 
 welters stand Mr. Fenwick and the still more heavily 
 weighted Squire Musters, both of whom give some stone 
 and a beating to the majority of their finer drawn 
 companions. 
 
 The Quorn country requires little description beyond 
 the passing allusions already made to it. No part, except 
 perhaps a small strip round Great Dalby, is so stiff as to 
 be impracticable ; while everywhere it requires a flying 
 hunter, and is just within the powers of a good man 
 and a good horse to cross. It is all (mostly?) grass, 
 with the exception of a patch of plough here and there, 
 and when a certain amount of rain has fallen, never 
 fails to carry a scent. The Loughborough side is very 
 different, that along the site of the old Charnwood 
 Eorest being as little like Leicestershire as can be 
 imagined ; and though a good deal of low wet grass 
 land lies below this rough and stony woodland country, 
 the face of the land carries a deal of unpleasant dirt 
 upon it. The fields, too, are a great contrast to the 
 gay throngs that one is accustomed to see at the 
 covert side with the crack packs. Yet Mr. Musters 
 used to enjoy his hunting here better than on the more 
 fashionable side, for (which is easily understood) hounds 
 have every chance given to them. 
 
 Changing the scene, we find ourselves in High 
 Leicestershire — a country where fox-hunting should 
 thrive when every other part has succumbed to brick 
 and mortar. Yet, with all its charms, it falls short 
 of being the hunter's paradise that merely a long ride 
 to covert would lead one to suppose. Eor instance, the 
 big woods of Owston,Launde, Skeffington,Tugby and Co., 
 
182 
 
 may be pleasant enough for cub-hunting, but to have 
 to bucket your horse almost to a standstill in the deep 
 rides, and then sit down to a stern chase over the ridge 
 and furrow and well-nigh impracticable fences of the 
 adjoining pasturage, is not felicity to every mind. 
 There is only one man who never is left behind, and 
 afterwards cannot be shaken off, and that is Mr. Tailby 
 himself. He appears to get away by a kind of instinct, 
 and constant practice and most determined resolution 
 enable him to make light of difficulties that choke off 
 men twenty years his junior. It certainly is a genuine 
 drawback to some of his best country, that the hardest 
 field have to tail when hounds cross it, for if negotiable 
 at all, it is only so in one or perhaps two places ; and 
 you may lose half a field and the whole of your pleasure 
 while waiting your turn in the crush. There are some 
 few districts indeed which cannot be got over in a direct 
 line at all, Skeffington lordship being about the best 
 known. 
 
 Since the above was written, Colonel Lowther has 
 formally signified his intention of claiming, after next 
 season, that part of Mr. Tailby's territory which properly 
 belongs to the Cottesmore. It will be remembered 
 that the country which Mr. Tailby has hunted for the 
 last fifteen years is made up of cessions (or temporary 
 grants would express it more properly) from the Quorn 
 and the Cottesmore, and was originally formed for Mr. 
 Bichard Sutton during his father's lifetime. 
 
 * * * Mr. Tailby's run of the season 
 (1870 — 71) was just before Goodall was laid up, and 
 was something extraordinary for distance and country. 
 This was on Thursday, February 16th, from Shankton 
 Holt, when they ran fast by Illston, Kolleston, and Key- 
 thorpe, over a stiff turf line to Allexton Wood, then 
 hunted on by Manton, and at length to ground near 
 
183 
 
 Lyndon, the whole distance — about a seventeen mile 
 point — being got over in two hours and a quarter. 
 * -x- -x- * -x- ■* * 
 
 Perhaps no country could give the same amount of 
 pleasure to a man who keeps only about a couple of 
 horses, likes to ride on the grass, and enjoys hunting 
 for its own sake, as the Atherstone under its present 
 administration. Long, slow-hunting runs are entirely 
 Captain Thomson's forte ; and, as 1 said before, he does 
 what few other men ever attempt in a grass country, 
 viz., to walk a fox to death. What a lesson, too, very 
 many huntsmen might take from him in the matter of 
 going to halloas, or rather 7iot going to them, for he 
 decks hunting with a beauty that one seldom sees in 
 Leicestershire, in making his hounds w'ork out every 
 yard, instead of getting their heads up, and exciting 
 them so that they never again put them properly down, 
 and can only kill with the help of mobbing and heading. 
 When a cold, weak scent has to be followed up, and 
 there is no chance of your gallop, the two plans amount to 
 a question of whether you prefer to see hounds hunting, 
 or huntsmen and whips blowing and flogging them from 
 field to field." 
 
 " Sport and want of Spoet in the Shiees." 
 
 TO NICOLAS,* 
 
 WHO WILL NOT ANSWEE ANYTHING. 
 Air: "Twinkle, twinkle, little star." 
 Thinking, thinking vainly, ah ! 
 How I wonder where you are ! 
 All about the world you fly, 
 Like a comet in the sky, 
 While I'm vainly thinking, " Ah ! 
 How I wonder where you are ! " 
 
 * Nicolas Charlton, Esq., a well-known sportsman in Nottinghamshire, 
 Yorkshire, and Leicestershire, between which countries his time is so much 
 divided, that his friends never know where a letter will find him. 
 
184 
 
 Thus in misery despondent 
 Sighs each wretched correspondent. 
 Ever writing, never getting 
 Answers, but for ever fretting, 
 While the labour and the cost 
 Of his letters all are lost. 
 And he's thinking, thinking, " Ah ! 
 How I wonder where you are ! " 
 
 If to Chil well's frigid swamp 
 You despatch your postage stamp, 
 Nicolas you then may swear 
 "Will be anywhere but there : 
 Jumping with a wild delight 
 On the hounds of Charley Wright, f 
 Or adding to his load of sins 
 By gammoning the trusting Binns ; t 
 But, wherever he may be, 
 Correspondents still you see. 
 Thinking, vainly thinking, *' Ah ! 
 Bow we wonder where you are ! " 
 
 16th Nov., 1884. L. Rolleston. 
 
 MY OLD HOEN: 
 A Song, 
 
 DEDICATED TO MT DEAR OLD FRIEND, FREDEEICK 
 
 BROCKMAN, ESQ., WHO FOR THIRTY-SIX TEARS HUNTED 
 
 THE EAST KENT HOUNDS WITH UNFLAGGING 
 
 PERSEVERANCE AND SIGNAL SUCCESS. 
 
 Now up in the heather, now down in the plain. 
 
 The secret shall never be known. 
 How often I've pressed it again and again, 
 
 That sweet little lip to my own ; 
 
 t The Badsworth. t Mr. Binns, of Leeds. 
 
185 
 
 How oft on the moor to its musical note 
 
 I've bounded away like a deer, 
 When far in the shade o£ some deep mountain glade 
 
 Its tidings have thrilled on my ear. 
 
 One note is enough ! and quickly the hounds 
 
 O'er Dartmoor are racing away, 
 And for'rad they fling, like birds on the wing — 
 
 'Tis a stout one before them to-day. 
 Then Echo enchanted unites with delight 
 
 The lingering notes to prolong, 
 And, roused from their sleep in the cavernous deep, 
 
 The Naiads are charmed with the song. 
 
 Together we've traversed the mountain and mere, 
 
 By many a desolate nook, 
 And, strolling along, have joined in the song 
 
 Of many a babbling brook ; 
 Then wearied, mayhap, I've slumber'd awhile, 
 
 Forgetting the world it would seem ; 
 Yet still on my ear I catch a sweet cheer — 
 
 'Tis the sound of a horn in my dream. 
 
 Other pleasures will pall, leave a poison behind, 
 
 Or oft, like a mirage, betray ; 
 Other lips have a snare — oh ! I bid you beware, 
 
 For I've suffered enough in my day — 
 But pure is that lip, and innocent, too, 
 
 The pastime it ever promotes ; 
 And, grey as I'm grown^ I blush not to own 
 
 That I've lavished my life on its notes. 
 
186 
 
 Old friend and ally ! to bid thee ' Good bye ' 
 
 Is a struggle I long have deferred ; 
 Though the day is far spent, and the warning is sent, 
 
 It chokes me to whisper the word : 
 But if mute thou must be, and Time's iron will 
 
 The die o£ the future has cast, 
 In the depths of my heart thou'lt be eloquent still. 
 
 While memory clings to the past. 
 
 Ah no, we'll not part ! As the Romans of old 
 
 Their Lares were wont to adore, 
 Near my own fireside thou shalt ever preside, 
 
 To warn away Care from my door : 
 There still thou shalt tell of mountain and fell, 
 
 And many a far-away friend ; 
 And ever to me thy presence shall be 
 
 A relic of joy to the end. 
 
 E. W. L. Davies. 
 
 A LIST OF MASTEES OF THE QUORN 
 HOUNDS. 
 
 I SCARCELY know if it is allowable to call hounds " the 
 Quorn " that were kept elsewhere than at Quorn, but as 
 the hounds that hunted Leicestershire have been 
 quartered in various kennels at different times, I shall 
 take leave to begin my list with — 
 
 Thomas Bootliby, Esq., of Tooley Parle, Leicestershire, 
 lorn 1677; died\1^2. 
 
 His death is recorded in the GentlemarCs Magazine for 
 August, 1752, as follows : " Thomas Boothby, of Tooley 
 Park, Leicestershire, Esquire, one of the greatest sports- 
 
187 
 
 men in England." In the possession of Mr. Corbet, of 
 Adderlej, is an old horn, partly of horn and partly of 
 
 Mr. Boothby's Horn (engraved by the kind permission of Mr. Corbet). 
 
 Ordinary Horn. 
 
 silver, with this inscription: "Thos. Boothby, Esq., 
 of Tooley Park, Leicestershire. — With this horn he 
 hunted the first pack of foxhounds then in England 
 fifty-five years. Born 1677 ; died 1752, Now the 
 property of Thos. d'Avenaut, Esq., county of Salop, his 
 grandson." This horn was engraved in the Field news- 
 paper some years ago, and is, I think, one of the most 
 interesting mementos in England, showing that Leices- 
 tershire possessed a ^' crack " pack of hounds nearly 200 
 years ago, and that two successive sportsmen hunted the 
 country for more than a hundred years. In Nicholl's 
 History of Leicestershire I find that " Tooley Park was 
 purchased by Judith, Lady Corbett, and Mr. Thomas 
 Boothby, her son by her first husband, enjoyed it in 
 1848, and in that family it continued till 1779, when 
 Skrymshire Boothby, Esq., sold it." Mr. Thomas 
 Boothby, the M.E.H., married an heiress named Scrim- 
 shire or Scrymshire, and took her name in addition to his 
 own. He had a son, who died before him, a granddaughter, 
 Anne, who married, as his second wife, Mr. Meynell, and 
 a grandson, known as " Prince " Boothby, with whom 
 
188 
 
 Mr. Meynell lived at one time, and who is often men- 
 tioned in the accounts of Mr. Meynell's sport, and as 
 one of the first subscribers to his hounds. 
 
 " The name of Mr. Boothby is still had in reverence 
 in the parish of JPeckleton. It is even said that he was 
 the donor of the present peal of Church Bells belonging 
 to the place, and that he had them so pitched and tuned 
 as to resemble the cry of a pack of hounds. Certainly 
 the said bells are of a very melodious and cheery kind 
 in their music. The horn to which you allude is also 
 knowQ by tradition in Peckleton, and the inscription on 
 it has probably given rise to the saying, that Mr. 
 Boothby was the first person to introduce the foxhound 
 into England, whereas most likely it is intended to con- 
 vey the idea of the great excellence of his pack. It is 
 also said that Mr. Boothby altered the pattern of the 
 hunting horn, which, until that time, was of the shape 
 seen in old pictures slung around the body." — Letter 
 from the Eev. the Hon. Augustus Byeon. 
 
 Hugo Meynell, of Bradley, 1753 to imO.—Born 1735 ; 
 
 died 1808. 
 
 Mr. Boothby having died in 1752, the following 
 year, 1753, Mr. Meynell, then only eighteen, began his 
 long and successful hunting career, which ended in 
 1800, when, in consequence of his son's ill-health, Nicholl 
 says, "It was thought advisable to dispose of Quorndon 
 Hall " to Lord Sefton, who also bought the foxhounds 
 and kennels. Mr. Meynell married first, at the age of 
 mineteen, Miss Gell, who died in 1757; and in 1758, 
 being then a widower of twenty-three, Miss Anne 
 Boothby Scrimshire became his second wife. Among 
 the many anecdotes recorded of Mr. Meynell, and the 
 universal tribute paid to him as the great master of the 
 modern style of foxhunting, I think no one has 
 
189 
 
 remarked what a debt the next generation owed to him. 
 All over England, in the early part of this century, were 
 masters of hounds and f oxhunters who had served an 
 apprenticeship with Meynell, and considering the extent 
 of country over w^hich he hunted — from Nottingham 
 Trent Bridges to Eockingham Forest, and from the 
 Welland to the Dove — what a vast number of boys of 
 all ranks must have grown up in his forty-seven years 
 of mastership to reverence the name of Meynell ! 
 Several seasons' sport enjoyed with his hounds may be 
 found recorded in Jones' Diary, a journal kept by the 
 whipper-in who officiated under Jack Eaven, and by 
 this one may observe, that there was no perceptible 
 difference between the run of foxes in the last century 
 and the present time. What strikes one most is, that the 
 sportsmen of those days were contented to hunt less 
 often and kill much fewer foxes than is now thought 
 necessary. When Mr. Meynell parted with his hounds 
 and establishment at Quorn to Lord Sefton in 1800, 
 in consequence of his son's illness, Nicholl says, 
 " This veteran sportsman, the oldest foxhunter in the 
 kingdom, who has resided at Quorn for forty-seven 
 years, has purchased a small house belonging to his 
 huntsman, and is going to build some rooms to it, at the 
 back of the kennels, for an occasional residence during 
 the hunting season." The son died that same year, but 
 Mr. Meynell lived till 1808. 
 
 Lord Sefton, 1800 to 1S02.— Died 1838. 
 
 Lord Sefton has the credit of introducing second 
 horses into the Leicestershire hunting-field ; some say 
 in consequence of 7w's great weight, others, in consequence 
 of their great value. 
 
 Lord Foley, 1802 to 1807.— Died 1833. 
 
190 
 
 T. Assheton Smith, 1807 to 1817.— Died 1863. 
 
 The memoir, written a few years ago, is so thoroughly 
 exhaustive, that it is not necessary to say anything 
 about Mr. Assheton Smith's sporting career. 
 
 George Oshaldeston, 1817 — 1821. 
 
 The same remark applies to Mr. Oshaldeston, but I 
 do not remember seeing it noticed in print, that when 
 Mr. Osbaldeston hunted Nottinghamshire, he remarked 
 that it was a most difficult country to kill foxes and 
 (at the same time) to show sport in. 
 
 Sir Bellingliam Graham, 1821 to 1823. — Died 1866. 
 
 George Osbaldeston, 1823 to 1827. — Second Mastership. 
 
 Lord Southampton, 1827 io 1831. — Died 1872. 
 
 Mr. Bernal Osborne's most amusing poem, called 
 ^'Melton in 1830: a day with Lord Southampton's 
 hounds," refers to this period of history. 
 
 Sir Harry Goodriche, 1831 to l^^^.—Died 1833. 
 
 At Sir Harry's lamented death, at the age of thirty- 
 three, he was succeeded by his heir, Mr. F. HolyoiTce, 
 1883 to 1835. 
 
 Mr, Errington, 1835 to 1838. 
 
 The Sporting Magazine of 1840 says of Mr. Erring- 
 ton — '*! once saw him stop a whole squadron of impetuous 
 go-a-head fellows by a wave of the hand and one of those 
 bland smiles, the magic of which has been so often said or 
 sung." ''That's more than Tom Smith or the Squire 
 could have done, with all their bully-ragging ! " said a 
 
191 
 
 sporting farmer. There is an extraordinary personal 
 resemblance between Mr. Errington and Lord Chester- 
 field. In the poem of "The Meltonians" thej are 
 called " the Dromios of our Hunt/' — so like, 
 " That hang me if I know wliich 'tis I see, 
 Till smiles assure me, Errington, 'tis thee." 
 
 Lord Suffield, 1838 to 1839.— Z)fgc^ 1853. 
 
 Lord Suffield bought Mr. Ealph Lambton's celebrated 
 pack of hounds for .£3000, to bring to Leicestershire, but 
 they were daunted by the crowd, and did not understand 
 being ridden over, and consequently caused some disap- 
 pointment. Lord Suffield unfortunately got into 
 pecuniary difficulties, which resulted in the hounds and 
 horses being seized by bailiffs, while on the way to meet 
 at Lodge-on-the- Wolds. His lordship only hunted the 
 Quorn country one season, and was succeeded by 
 
 Mr. Tom Hodgson, 1839 to IMl.— Died 1863. 
 
 Mr. Hodgson always hunted in a brown coat and 
 broad-brimmed hat, which gave rise to an amusing 
 incident, recorded in the Si^orting Magazine of 1841. 
 " The story runs, that when in the act of pulling down 
 a fence near Seagrave, he was collared by a farmer, and 
 ordered to desist. Mr. Hodgson stripped directly, and 
 his enormous length quite astonished his antagonist, a 
 fat, good-tempered, punchy fellow. ' Dang it, I do'ant 
 want to fight thee, only ride over the country, and get 
 over the fences like a man j don't make gaps one could 
 drive a broad-wheeled wagon thro'.' The fact was, the 
 farmer did not know Mr. Hodgson, and subsequently 
 excused himself on the impossibility of a Leicestershire 
 man thinking that a person in a brown coat, whom he 
 never saw ride at a fence, could be Master of the 
 Quorn Hounds." 
 
192 
 
 Mr. Greene, 1841 to 1847. 
 
 Mr. Greene, of Eolleston, is mentioned as a prominent 
 rider in Sir Harry Goodricke's time, and was the first 
 Leicestershire landowner to take the hounds since Mr. 
 Boothby. Tom Day was his huntsman, and it was 
 during his mastership that the Quorn and Mr. Musters' 
 hounds joined and killed their fox together near Plum- 
 tree, as described in the appendix to "Notitia Yenatica." 
 
 Sir RicJiard Sutton, 1847 to l^b^.—Died 1855. 
 
 Sir Eichard had previously hunted the Burton and 
 Cottesmore countries, in the latter of which he gave but 
 little satisfaction, as will be seen by a letter in one of 
 these pages, contained in Will Stansby's Diary. His 
 kindness and hospitality, and the generous manner in 
 which he hunted the Qviorn country, caused a universal 
 mourning there at his sudden death in the beginning of 
 the season 1855. It must have been in 1853 or 1854 
 that my father took me to meet Sir Richard's hounds at 
 Lodge-on-the- Wolds, when I was about twelve or thir- 
 teen. I remember the white collars of the men, which 
 I was afterwards told were introduced by Sir Richard 
 that he might the more readily distinguish his own 
 servants in the crowd. Sir Richard first created the 
 country now hunted by Sir Bache Cunard, by giving his 
 son, Mr. Richard Sutton, a pack of hounds to hunt there 
 two days a week, it being a portion of the Quorn. Mr. 
 Banks Wright, Sir Richard's half brother, celebrated as 
 a light weight and fine horseman, made the great repu- 
 tation during his brother's various masterships, which 
 he so justly preserved to the last years of his life. 
 
 Lord Stamford, 1856 to ISC^S.—Died 1883. 
 
 Mr. Clowes, 1863 to 1866. 
 
193 
 
 Lord Hastings, 1866 to IS^S.^Died 1868. 
 
 It was, I believe, about the last day that Lord 
 Hastings' hounds went out, in the spring of 1868, that 
 they had one of the best gallops seen in the Quorn 
 country for years, finding their fox at Walton Thorns, 
 and taking him to the Old Hills in an hour. Pike was 
 then the huntsman. 
 
 Mr. Chaioorth Musters, 1868 to 1870. 
 
 It was in November of Mr. Musters' first season that 
 Lord Hastings' death occurred, and not many days 
 afterwards Lord Somerville, who had come to Leicester- 
 shii-e for the season, was killed while hunting with Mr. 
 Tailby's hounds. 
 
 The season of 1868 — 69 was a very good one for 
 scent, and, consequently, for sport ; and Mr. Story, of 
 Lockington, used laughingly to say, it would be a pity 
 if Mr. Musters could not show sport, considering that 
 he had three huntsmen in his establishment besides 
 himself, namely : Frank Grillard, who hunted the 
 hounds in the high coimtry; Bob Machin, late hunts- 
 man to the Eufford, who whipped-in to him ; and John 
 Goddard, who^ after hunting the Quorn hounds and 
 Mr. Tailby's, had undertaken the management of the 
 stud at Quorn. Mr. Musters' health unfortunately 
 proved unequal to the work after two seasons, and the 
 expense greater than he could afi"ord to continue, so he 
 was obliged to give up the country, though most kindly 
 pressed to go on hunting it with a subscription. He 
 lent his hounds for one season, that of 1870 — 71, to 
 Mr. Coupland, and they were hunted by Jem Mac- 
 Bride ; after which, Mr. Coupland bought the Craven 
 hounds, and Mr. Musters took his own back to Not- 
 tinghamshire. 
 
194 
 
 Mr, Cou^land, 1870 to 1884. 
 
 The sport shown during Mr. Coupland's mastership 
 is fully described in the " Cream of Leicestershire," and 
 the name of Tom Tirr will always be connected with 
 those stirring annals of the longest enduring mastership 
 since Meynell. On Mr. Coupland's resignation last 
 spring, the hounds were bought by the Duke of Port- 
 land, Lord Wilton, and Mr. Behrens — Tom Eirr was 
 engaged to continue as huntsman \ and eventually 
 Lord Manners undertook the mastership, with which 
 our record ends — the twenty-first on the list, Lord 
 Manners, 1884. 
 
 L. C. Mtjsteks. 
 
 TE:E last fortnight of tee tear 1884.. 
 
 Monday, December 15th, 1884. 
 
 RUN WITH LOED FEEEEES' HOUNDS. 
 
 Met at Belton. Eound in Langley New Wood, and 
 went away through Langley Priory at a great pace, 
 turned to the right, nearly to Lockington Gorse, left it 
 on the left, and pointed for Belton, then over the Dise- 
 worth and Belton brooks, and, leaving Piper Wood on 
 the left, pointed for Sheepshed. Here the fox was 
 headed back, and they ran him between Piper and 
 Oakley Woods, crossing the latter by the middle ride, 
 then down the far side and away for Hathern Turn. 
 This took about forty minutes, and was, as hounds ran, 
 about seven miles. They then turned left along the 
 bank of the Soar, and ran it for a mile, but crossed 
 just oi>posite Mr. Paget's house. Some of the field 
 crossed at Zouche Mill, and others at Kegworth, and the 
 
195 
 
 latter met the hounds just as they got over the bridge. 
 They ran across the very middle of Kegworth Station, 
 over both platforms and both lines of rails, and into 
 Kingston Park, where they checked, but hit it off, and 
 ran on across the Park, and out to the left, up to Gotham 
 Stone Pits, and then along the hill top, and after a 
 check there, owing to the fox lying down, they ran 
 on over the hill and down towards Barton very fast. 
 Here they turned to the right across the road, on over 
 the middle of Clifton pasture, crossing the Clifton brook, 
 which is supposed to be unjumpable, and which the 
 field negotiated at a drinking place ; straight on up to 
 Lime Man's Kough. Here, within a field of Rudding- 
 ton, some boys saw the fox close before the hounds, 
 and they began running very hard towards Bradmore, 
 which was left on the right, and pointing for Bancliffe 
 Wood. Mr. Charlton here viewed the fox three fields 
 ahead; the hounds got close to him, ran him into a 
 little spinney between Bradmore and Plumtree, where 
 he laid down, and, coming out in view, they raced him 
 two fields, and ran into him on the Bradmore and 
 Plumtree road, close to where the new railway passes 
 i^lumtree. The time was two hours and forty-four 
 minutes. The distance, twelve miles from point to 
 point ; as the hounds ran, about twenty. Two couples 
 were missing when the fox was killed, but they had 
 been caught and shut up in Sutton Bonnington, where 
 two foxes were before them, so they were not to blame. 
 Those at the finish of this severe run were Lord 
 Perrers, Captain Henry, Mr. Wilham Paget, Mr. Henry 
 Story, Mr. Tidmas, Mr. KoUeston, Mr. Charlton, Mr. 
 Robson, Mr. Macdonald, Mr. Brooks, Mr. Newton, 
 Mr. Sanford, Mr. Cresswell, and Mr. Pellowes from 
 Burton-on-Trent. One gentleman, of great hunting 
 experience in various countries, declared this was the 
 best run he had ever seen. 
 
196 
 
 It is interesting to know that, out of the following 
 list of hounds which worked particularly hard and well 
 during this long run, many are descended from Mr. 
 Musters' hounds : — 
 
 Duster, Dorimont, D^^eadnought and Destiny, hj Brocklesby 
 
 Eutland, out of Dairymaid, by Belvoir Dorimont, 
 
 out of Mr. Musters' Hostess. 
 Adelaide, by Brocklesby Alfred, out of Welfare, by 
 
 Belvoir Firebrand, out of Mr. Musters' Welcome. 
 JBluecap and Bracelet, by Belvoir Brusher, out of 
 
 Welcome, by Belvoir Warrior, out of Mr. Musters' 
 
 Singwell. 
 Narrative, by Brocklesby Rutland, out of Nelly, by 
 
 Belvoir Eambler, out of Mr. Erancklin's Nimble. 
 Shiner, by Wonder, out of Scandal, by the Milton 
 
 Somerset. 
 Necklace, by Fatal, by Mr. Musters' Forager, out of his 
 
 Koyalty, out of Narrative (above). 
 
 Weitten bt Loed Feeeees. 
 
 It was particularly satisfactory to the Editor of this 
 book (which is dedicated to Lord Ferrers), that this 
 great run took place just in time to be inserted in it, 
 especially as Lord I'errers had jokingly promised nearly 
 a year before to run a twelve mile point on purpose. 
 
 EUN WITH THE DUKE OF EUTLAND'S 
 HOUNDS. 
 
 Monday, December 22nd. — Met at Harby. Hounds 
 had not long been in Harby Cover when a very large 
 grey-coloured fox broke away ; the pack was quickly on 
 his line, and a regular race ensued, as straight as we 
 
197 
 
 could go for Kaje Wood. Two fields sliort of it a 
 shepherd and his dog turned our fox, but this caused no 
 check as it generally does. Clinging to the Smite until 
 we crossed the canal, we then turned close to the right 
 of Hose Gorse, and inclined to Hose Tillage for a few 
 fields ; crossed the road about midway between Hose 
 and Clawson, and our fox was turned by a shepherd dog 
 in Mr. Colman's home field ; back over the road he went, 
 and straight for Sherbrooke's Cover, crossing the Smite 
 just to the right of it, after which we ran in the shape 
 of the letter S to Over Brought on, leaving the village 
 close on our left hand. Our fox's next point was in a 
 straight line for Willoughby ; about a mile short of it, 
 he wheeled to the right and made for the Curate Gorse, 
 where we were very near to him ; a man standing at the 
 south corner of the cover turned reynard away, and 
 down he went for the Midland Railway, to which he 
 clung, crossing and recrossing it about three or four 
 times, until approaching Widmerpool Station; then 
 leaving the iron road behind him, made for Ehnt Hill 
 plantation. We had then covered eighteen miles of 
 country in an hour and twenty minutes. In a minute 
 or so Tom Eirr was seen galloping up with the Quorn 
 pack, and into the cover he brought his hounds, the 
 Belvoir being close to their fox when the Quorn joined. 
 Almost directly our fox was away, both packs being well 
 together close to his brush. A few rough ploughed 
 fields at the start were in favour of the fox, as scent was 
 rather catchy, partly owing to the number of hares on 
 the move. Over this little difficulty, the pace became 
 a smart gallop, which continued to the end. We 
 ran on pretty straight for Dalby, through the village, 
 also through Dalby Wood. We were soon going over 
 the railway tunnel to the left of Grimstone Gorse, 
 through Saxelby Spinney down to Saxelby Village, 
 
198 
 
 where a turn took us to witMn a field of Cant's Thorns ; 
 then turned sharp down the valley to Welby Holt ( or 
 Lord Wilton's cover), where they ran for four minutes, 
 and killed this game old fox, after one of the most excit- 
 ing runs ever seen. I gave Tom Firr the head, intend- 
 ing to keep the brush to bring home and keep as a 
 memento of this wonderful run ; however, Mr. Coupland 
 begged very hard for it, so I presented it to that gentle- 
 man. On measuring the distance of this fine run on 
 the ordnance map, I find it no less than twenty-six miles, 
 viz., from Harby Cover, by following the line hounds 
 actually ran. 
 
 Amongst those out with us were Mr. Burdett Coutts, 
 Mr. Lubbock, Mr. E. Chaplin, Captain Hume, Mr. 
 Lionel Trower, M. Couturier, M. Koy, Mr. C. A. 
 Brown, Mr. Fisher, Dr. Williams, Master Knowles, 
 Mr. Henry Smith, Junior, Mr. Marriott, &c. 
 
 F. GrILLARD. 
 
 (The point from Harby Cover to Widmerpool is 
 seven miles; from Widmerpool to Welby Holt also 
 seven, as the crow flies.) 
 
 Gillard says, in a letter he wrote me soon afterwards, 
 " I noticed one of the Quorn hounds making a good hit 
 on two occasions, and on making enquiries how she was 
 bred, was told she was a daughter of Belvoir Weather- 
 gage. It certainly was by far the finest run I ever saw, 
 and I think a better line of country could not be picked 
 in Leicestershire. The first twenty minutes over the 
 vale would no doubt be put down as the best part of 
 this run by those who are fond of a fast thing. Hounds 
 raced from Harby Cover to Clawson, after which we 
 were kept galloping along at a smartish pace. Never 
 getting sight of my second horse, my old ' Gpameboy,' 
 
199 
 
 true to his name, carried me from beginning to end, and 
 he missed but very few fields which the pack crossed 
 all throughout." 
 
 Tuesday, Decembee 23iid, 1884. 
 ETJN WITH MR. JAEYIS'S HOUNDS. 
 
 We met at Langford Hall. — A beautiful morning, and 
 very still. What wind there was, north-west. Drew 
 the two little covers by Langford Hall and Winthorpe 
 Car covers blank. Found our fox in the cover adjoining 
 Coddington Hall, which I drew by permission of Major 
 Tempest, acting master of the Blankney Hounds. 
 
 Ran down the Park, and crossed the Newark and 
 Sleaford turnpike at the bottom of the hill, where he 
 was coursed by a sheep dog across the first field. He 
 ran within one field of the Great Northern Railway, and 
 turned back to the left through Coddington Planta- 
 tions by Barnby Manor, which he left just to his left 
 hand, crossed the river Witham just below Beckingham 
 Tillage — we luckily found a bridge about two hundred 
 yards from where the hounds crossed. They ran on, 
 leaving Fenton to the left, to within three fields of 
 Stubton, where w^e checked. Hit the line off again to 
 the right, leaving Claypole Station on the left, by the 
 side of the railway, to close opposite Balderton Manor 
 House, when he crossed the line, the last hound 
 just getting over before the Express came by. They 
 ran through the little plantations at Balderton, 
 and crossed the Great North Road at their 
 southernmost end, apparently pointing for Gotham 
 Thorns ; here we had a very long check. I held them 
 
200 
 
 on over a large ploughed field, and luckily they hit it off 
 on the grass beyond, and he then crossed the Newark 
 and Melton Eailway at Hawton brickyard, where he 
 was viewed five minutes before us, the only time he was 
 seen since leaving Coddington. He went straight down 
 to the river Devan, and crossed it into a willow osier. 
 We found a bridge in the next field but one, Harry 
 Brown, my whip, wading through the river to get on 
 to Mr. Brockton's horse, which he kindly offered him 
 to save time. We then left Thorpe Village to the left, 
 on to the big grass field outside the Park at Stoke, where 
 we crossed the Foss Eoad. He turned to his right into 
 Stoke Holt, and ran alongside the river Trent, which I 
 thought for a moment he meant to cross. My second 
 horseman, however, hallooed him away from Stoke Holt 
 and he ran back by Thorpe, crossing the line we had 
 come, and by Elston, where he turned to his right, and 
 again crossing the Foss Road, we ran into him, within 
 two fields of Mr. Fillingham's house at Syerston. Those 
 who saw this run to the end were Mr. Wray, of Thurlby 
 Hall, Mr. Cecil Smith Woolley, of Collingham, Mr. 
 Aitcheson, of Thurlby, Mr. N. Cockburn, of Lincoln, 
 Mr. Baily, of Collingham, Mr. Brockton, of Earndon, 
 brother of the celebrated steeplechase rider, and two 
 others, besides myself and Harry Brown. George Mar- 
 shall, my second horseman, came up with us at Stoke. 
 The time was two hours and forty minutes. The farthest 
 point was nine miles and a half, in the course of which 
 we crossed three rivers and two railways, and ran out 
 of the Blankney through the Belvoir into the South 
 Notts, country. 
 
 G. E. Jakvis. 
 
201 
 
 EUN WITH LORD GALWAY^S HOUNDS. 
 Eeidat, December 26th. 
 
 These hounds had one of the most remarkable runs 
 on Friday within the memory of living sportsmen. 
 Being Christmas time the houses of the country gentry 
 are full of company, and a large field, including many 
 strangers, turned up at the meet, which was at Grringley- 
 on-the-Hill. With Viscount and Viscountess Galway, 
 M.P., from Serlby Hall, were her ladyship's sister and 
 Mr. Gosling; from Osberton, Mr. F. J. S. Foljambe, 
 M.P., and Mr. Godfrey Foljambe ; from Sheffield, Mr. 
 Wilson Mappin, Mr. Firth, and Mr. Vickers ; Mr. H. 
 Beevor, Barnby Moor; Mr. Strathfield, of Eossing- 
 ton ; Miss Ellison, Mr. C. Thorold, Mr. S. and Mr. 
 J. White, of Leverton ; Mr. E. and Mr. W. Smith, 
 Gringley ; Mr. C. Wright, Auston ; Dr. Dawson, 
 Mr. F. Kaynes, Bawtry; Mr. Orlando Bridgeman 
 Simpson, Mr. C. Marshall, and Mr. A. White, 
 Eetford; Mr. G. Bingley, Mr. and Mrs. Otter, Eaton 
 Hall; and many others. A first move was made 
 to Gringley Gorse, where Morgan at once halloed a foi 
 away, which did not stay to be found — and a rare game 
 one he proved to be. With the large field streaming 
 after him he pointed for Walkeringham, but after going 
 over three fields he turned to the right, leaving Pear 
 Tree-hill just on the left, and over the Gainsborough 
 Eoad skirting Clayworth Wood, and nearly up to 
 Wheatley Grange. The pace and the heavy country 
 had already begun to tell upon some of the field, when 
 he turned to the left, and took his pursuers on to Bole 
 Fields and over the Gainsborough Eoad to the left of 
 
202 
 
 Wlieatley Village, and away at a good hunting pace over 
 West Burton Farm to Sturton-en-le-Steeple, turning to 
 the left and over the Manchester, Sheffield, and Lin- 
 colnshire Eailway to the village, which he threaded, 
 and away on the west side nearly to North Leverton ; 
 but here he turned over the Leverton Eoad and on to 
 Fen ton Bsmk, straight away to the gorse, through it, 
 and on to Littleborough, threading the small osier 
 bed, and running parallel with the Trent up to 
 Cottam Osiers, down to the railway bridge over the 
 Trent and Torksey, and away still at a racing pace to the 
 earths at Kampton, which he found stopped against 
 him, and rattled on without lingering to Fleet Planta- 
 tion, and skirting it away to Colonel Eyre's osiers on the 
 Trent bank, but turned short to the left, went back with 
 those of the numerous field who had managed to survive 
 by Torksey Bridge, reerossing the railway, and run- 
 ning nearly the same line back to Littleborough, the 
 hounds literally racing with their fox for a hundred 
 yards in front up to Fenton Gorse, and nearly up to 
 Sturton, where he turned sharp round into Fenton 
 Bankj and here they ran up to him, but he still tried 
 hard to beat them, and the brook gave him a short 
 respite. But they were not to be denied and pulled him 
 down in Mr. Cobb's garden, after a grand hunting run 
 of two hours and twenty-five minutes, which will not 
 be forgotten by those who were up at the finish. 
 
 Lettee erom Mr. Eatites, oe Bawtrt, aged 84, 
 TO THE Editor. 
 
 Dear Mrs. Musters, 
 
 Any details I can give of the great run up to Sturton 
 must of necessity be only second-hand, as my riding in 
 
203 
 
 such a run is out of all question. From what I hear 
 from those in it, the description in the paper is faithful 
 and reliable. At Sturton it became intermittent, with 
 frequent casts, some very wide, in which the Viscount 
 shewed great knowledge, patience, and perseverance. 
 The last cast to Cottam Osiers was a very long one, and 
 I thought a forlorn one; but "Hope springs eternal," &c., 
 and it answered. There were the two chances, the run 
 fox and a fresh one : fortune favoured the brave, and 
 Morgan assured nie the killed fox was the Gringley fox. 
 It was indeed a remarkable run, but nothing to stop a 
 hunting man, or tire a horse in good condition. The 
 country was not heavy, as described in the paper, for I 
 never saw the clays ride better, in which I am borne 
 out by Beevor and many others. My little nag witnessed 
 the obsequies, and trotted home as lively as a kitten. 
 I enclose the account of the run from the Eetford paper, 
 and of the following Monday's proceedings. 
 
 I should say, knowing the country, and accepting the 
 description as reliable, it was a far better day's sport 
 than the Gringley day, but perhaps not so satisfactory 
 to the Viscount, killing his fox after two hours and 
 twenty-five minutes, under great difiiculties, in which he 
 delights. The Monday's sport would be the best for the 
 riding man. Lord Galway can do and appreciate 
 both. ^ * ^ ^ * 
 
 Yours very truly, 
 
 E. Eaynes. 
 
 )^^ 
 
204 
 
 RUN WITH THE SOUTH NOTTS. HOUNDS. 
 
 On Tuesday, December 23rd, these hounds met at 
 Pinxton Station, and trotted off to Alfreton Park for 
 their first draw, with, however, no result j and then 
 Lord Harrington drew Shaw Wood, the Wingfield 
 Doverts, and Linway Springs, none of which, however, 
 held a fox. He then went on to Ogston Carr, drawing 
 Clattercotes on the way blank, but in the Carr, one of 
 the right sort was soon afoot, and in a few minutes a 
 fine old fox broke at the lower end. Hounds were out 
 directly after him, and drove him along at a good pace, 
 bending to the right underneath the hill opposite 
 Overton, but before reaching the latter place, he turned 
 to the left, and went straight up the hill side to the top 
 of High Ordisli. Here the pace, which had up to this 
 point been very fast, still further increased, and hounds 
 raced on over Critchlow Farm on to Tansley Common, 
 turning again to the right past the reservoir, and out on 
 to the open moor. They now went straight to Sydnop 
 without a check at all — too fast for horses to keep up 
 with them — but, on reaching the last-named jDlace, some 
 slow hunting ensued, until about a mile further on 
 hounds came to a check in a plantation by Flash Dam. 
 Up to this point they had run about ten miles. After 
 about half an hour's delay here, they hit off either the 
 same line or another, and ran a fair pace back to the 
 Chesterfield and Matlock road, which they crossed about 
 a mile above the " Lord Nelson " Inn, and from here 
 getting on better terms with their fox, they ran fast 
 right back to Ogston Carr, where they originally found. 
 Prom the Carr back again took two hours and a half, 
 
205 
 
 including the check at Flash Dam, and the distance 
 covered could not have been less than seventeen miles. 
 The way hounds raced to Sydnop showed what a turn 
 of speed this pack possesses, and the patience with which 
 they hunted over the bad scenting ground at Eushley 
 shooting lodge could only be equalled by that displayed 
 by their master, who, if' he had not exhibited this first 
 quality in a huntsman to the fullest extent, could 
 never have recovered his fox at Elash Dam Plantations. 
 
 A. W. Btroj^. 
 
 Lord Harrington described to me what a wild and 
 picturesque sight it was to see the hounds racing over 
 the open moor, with the grouse getting up all among 
 them. 
 
 L. C. M. 
 
 Just as this collection of Song and Sport is being 
 printed, there come from all sides accounts of the 
 exceptionally fine runs with which the year 1 884 draws to 
 a close, a few of which are inserted if only to show that, 
 though we may be " dwindled sons of little men," yet, 
 with a good scent, a fair field, and some favour, the same 
 sport can be shown as by the giants of other days. 
 Lord Ferrers' run of December 15th measures rather a 
 longer distance, from point to point, than Mr. Meynell's 
 celebrated chase from Billesdon Coplow to Enderby, with 
 the additional superiority of a kill at the end ; and Mr. 
 Jarvis's successful journey in pursuit of a fox from Cod- 
 dington by Stubton and Claypole to Stoke and Syerston, 
 brought the Lincolnshire hounds further into Nottingham- 
 shire than they are ever known to have penetrated before. 
 
206 
 
 The exciting incident the previous day of the Quorn 
 and the Duke of Rutland's hounds, each enjoying a good 
 run, meeting at Widmerpool, and killing their fox in 
 company, after running together to Welby fish ponds, 
 is I believe almost without precedent, though these two 
 packs are so constantly close to each other on Mondays 
 throughout the season. 
 
 This book may be concluded with Sir Maurice Berke- 
 ley's words, which it is to be hoped will prove true for 
 many a year to come — 
 
 *' Eoxes will fly, and hounds will run, and horses 
 still will tire." 
 
 (M.F.H.'s will endorse the last line.) 
 
 LiNA Chawoeth Mustebs. 
 
 New Tear's Eve, 
 
 1884. - 
 
 TUE END. 
 
 R. ALLEN AND SON, LIMITED, PRINTERS, CAXTON HOUSE, NOTTINGHAM. 
 
m^XBt Family Library of Veterinary 
 
 School of Veterinary Mediaina m 
 
 Tufts University 
 200 Westboro Road 
 
 Itoftti Grafton, WIAOISa®