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JOHNA.SEAVERNS

TUFTS UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES

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Webster Family Library of Veterinary [\/leciiclnv.
Cummings ScIjOoI of Veterinary, l^/ledicineat
Tufts University
200 Westboro Road
North Grafton, MA 01 535

MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

MEMORIES OF THE

SHIRES

BY

J. OTHO PAGET

("q" of the field)

METHUEN & CO. LTD.

36 ESSEX STREET W.G.

LONDON

pa

i^/W/ Published in ig20

AUTHOR'S NOTE

I AM indebted to the proprietors of the Field
for permission to insert extracts from articles
I wrote for that paper, and herewith acknow-
ledge gratefully the favour granted.

Except in those few instances where I have
thought it best to make extracts as originally
printed, all the accounts of runs have been rewritten,
but confess that I had to refresh my memory by
a perusal of articles which were paid for by the
Field.

CONTENTS

CHAP.

I. FoX-HuNTING AND MeLTON .

II. Early Days in Leicestershire

III. Ancient History

IV. Mr. John Coupland
V. Lord Manners

VI. Captain Warner
VII. Captain Warner
VIII. Captain Warner
IX. Captain Warner's Closing Seasons
X. Lord Lonsdale
XI. Captain Burns-Hartopp
XII. Captain Burns-Hartopp's Final Seasons

XIII. Captain Forester to the War

XIV. Old Friends — Men and Horses
Index .....

PAGE

I

i8

31

43
62

88

106

115
130

150
163
178
194
208
223

MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

CHAPTER I
FOX-HUNTING AND MELTON

THE war has created a gap in the history of
time — events will be dated before or after.
During the winter of 1914 a huge fissure
was started in the affairs of fox-hunting]which has
gradually grown in width. Old customs, traditions
and methods that were considered essential to the
sport have been swept into the dustbin.

Pessimists with gloomy faces will tell you that
hunting is at an end, and that the fox will soon be
extinct ; but I am firmly convinced that the sport
will rise triumphant from the ashes of the past,
and with a brighter future will become established
on a broader basis. Although many good sports-
men have been killed, there are still plenty left, and
many more growing up.

This appears to me to be the ideal moment to
redeem my long-delayed promise to the pubUshers
and to chat over the past — the five and thirty years
preceding the war.

I think the love of hunting is inherent with
most of us in a greater or less degree, but the degrees
have a very wide range, and there are some in whom
it is almost imperceptible. Those who have that

2 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

love very strongly developed may consider them-
selves amongst the lucky ones of the earth, because
they have an all-absorbing pursuit of which they
will never tire. I have never yet met anyone who
has said he was bored with a good run in which he
had held a foremost position, but I have met many
men, keen sportsmen, who have confessed to being
sick of blazing away at pheasants for a whole day.
I am saying nothing against shooting, but am merely
pointing out that in one sport success is capable
of palling on and satisfying the appetite, whereas
in the other the most perfect run will only whet the
appetite for more.

A well-filled purse, backed by a good gamekeeper,
will generally ensure plenty of shooting, but riches
do not command good sport in the hunting field.

One occasionally reads in a novel of the hero,
who apparently hunts about once in a season,
leading the whole field in an extraordinary run, and
then turning homewards with the remark that it is
an overrated sport. Such things, however, do not
occur in real life, and the man who has been lucky
enough to ride close up to hounds through a good
run is brimming over with happiness at the time,
and whenever he recalls the incidents his pulses
will quicken with the remembrance of those exciting
moments. Novelists, I regret to say, with a few
exceptions, do not think it necessary to know any-
thing about their subject when they write on
hunting, and it is a sport they are very fond of
introducing, to lend colour to their stories.

Since the time of Beckford it has been the
custom of the literary brotherhood to look down
with scorn on anyone connected with sport. It

FOX-HUNTING AND MELTON 3

has always been sufficient condemnation for a man
that he was known to be fond of hounds and hunting
to be set down for all time as an uncultivated boor,
without a refined taste or a thought beyond the
pursuit of a fox.

The easy and fluent style in which Beckford
penned his Thoughts on Hunting a hundred and
twenty years ago, would have earned for him un-
gratified admiration if the subject chosen had been
aught else, but having confessed himself a sports-
man, his work was considered unworthy of being
read. Johnson, in his Lives of the Poets, grudges
giving any favourable mention of Somerville, who
committed the crime of writing on a subject — shunt-
ing— of which his commentator was ignorant. In
referring to The Chase, Johnson says, " to this poem
praise cannot totally be denied " ; but in spite of
such faint praise the poem has stood the test of
time, and still appeals to every sportsman who reads
it. There could be no better graphic description
of hunting scenes set either in prose or verse.

Sporting literature is not always of a very high
class, but there is no reason it should not be credited
with what merits it possesses.

There must be very few hunting men who have
not read Hundley Cross, and still less who, having
read, do not appreciate every line of the book, but I
very much doubt our old friend being found in the
library of any except those with sporting tastes.
I admit that the vivid descriptions of runs and other
technical matter would not appeal to an ordinary
reader in the same way it does to a hunting man,
but the immortal Jorrocks is sketched in with the
hand of an artist, and whatever your tastes may be

4 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

you cannot fail to picture him a living character.
His weak points, his occasional lapses from sobriety,
and his little acts of meanness, are the frailties of a
human being, and serve as a background to his
many good qualities. The sturdy British merchant
of that period stands before you when culture and
polish were not considered necessary in a com-
mercial education, but he acts the part exactly as
we should expect him to do it, and never does any-
thing inconsistent with our conception of his char-
acter. We love him for his keenness and his
hunting proclivities, we sympathize with him in his
troubles, and feel for him when he funks the fence.
Fat and ungainly in figure, weak in his aspirates,
and occasionally falHng into vulgarity, he is yet the
hero of the piece, and that is surely a triumph for the
man who created him. His language may not be
quite the right model for school or nursery, but the
same may be said of Sam Weller, and no one has
banished Dickens for that reason.

Surtees still stands at the head of sporting
writers, and the caustic humour of his books retains
its flavour to this day. He was perhaps a trifle
too cynical, exposing the follies and foibles of
mankind without laying to its credit those good
points which always accompany the bad. Hundley
Cross is far away the best of his works, as Jorrocks
is his best character, but his other books are all
worth reading. It is, however, his women that
have made him unpopular with the general public.
They are sawdust dolls without life or meaning,
and the stuffing of the sawdust does not command
our admiration.

Most packs nowadays of any note have correspon-

FOX-HUNTING AND MELTON 5

dents who send their reflections and impressions
of the sport to one of the weeklies ; but, with the
exception of " Brooksby," I am afraid we are rather
a moderate lot. Descriptions of runs are never
satisfactory, they either leave too much to the
imagination, or else go to the other extreme and
attempt details that become tedious. However,
it is easy to criticize, but it is by no means a light
task to write a readable account of a run. In the
first place, the man ought to have been in a position
to have watched hounds from find to finish before
he sits down to write his account. Then he must
remember that accuracy of the main features is
absolutely essential, and yet a mere statement of
bare facts without a leaven of imagination is but
dull reading. Though no two runs are the least
alike, even with the same fox and over the same
country, there must always be a repetition of phrase
and expression which is wearying to the writer as
it is to the reader. Truly the lot of the hunting
correspondent is not altogether happy, but he has
many things to be thankful for.

Whyte Melville stands alone amongst writers
of hunting fiction, and we can read his works to-day
with as much pleasure as we did twenty years ago.
They are interesting to read and they leave no
nasty taste in the mouth, which is more than can
be said for many writers of a later date. We are
told Surtees is vulgar and Whyte Melville prosy,
but in default of these matters we are fed on stuff
that has either no meaning or is questionable
morality and thinly veiled indecency. This class
of book may be popular for the time, but they are
brilliant annuals that will die and be forgotten at

6 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

the end of the year, whilst Handley Cross and
Katerfelto will grow again every spring to claim a
fresh batch of readers. In spite of this defence of
sporting literature, I am bound to admit there are
not many writers of the higher class who can be
strictly called hunting men, but we have Beckford,
Surtees and Whyte Melville of whom we may be
justly proud.

MELTON

Melton is the fox-hunter's Mecca, and he should
make his pilgrimage there before he dies. Other
parts of England have their bits of good country,
but nowhere else is there a centre surrounded by
glorious hunting ground.

An old-world market town, cosily nestling in
the river valley, from which the gently rising hills
roll away on either hand. The modern convenience
of an excellent train service makes it possible now
to return to London after a day's hunting from
Melton, but railways have not yet destroyed the
glamour of the past. We can imagine the gay
bucks dashing out to the meets on their hacks, and
the rattle of the post-chaise on the cobble-stones
that brought a new arrival from town.

Many things have changed, but the beautiful old
church must have looked much the same a century
ago, and most of the houses clustering beneath its
stately shades were in existence when George the
Third was young.

The ancient character of the place has altered
very considerably within the limits of my memory.
There was a quaint, respectable air about the town,
dna each shop looked like a dwelling-house whose

FOX-HUNTING AND MELTON T

occupier sold articles over the counter only to oblige
his friends. Nearly every shop had its bay window
with small square panes, and every door was in
two parts, the upper half opening independently of
the lower. On market days keeping the lower half
closed was a necessary precaution to guard against
the possible incursions of unruly pigs and stray
cattle, as at that time the farmers exposed their
animals for sale in the open street. These queer old
landmarks of the past have nearly all disappeared
now, and glaring sheets of plate glass exhibit the
latest novelties from the metropolis. At the be-
ginning of the century Melton was rapidly becoming
a fashionable hunting centre, and the men who
assembled there were the cream of hard riders
from other counties, but for several years previous
to that date a few sportsmen had made the town
their headquarters. In these early days, and for
some years later, only bachelors visited Melton, and
the married man left his wife at home. This will
account for the mad pranks which history tells us
were frequently played after dinner by the hunting
men, such as painting signs, wrenching knockers
and other wild freaks. When men get away from
their women-folk and muster in any force, they are
sure to behave like a lot of schoolboys ; they feel
at other times, I suppose, the necessity of preserving
the dignity of the superior sex.

Even that most respectable body of men who
make our laws, do sometimes forget themselves and
indulge in playful antics which seem hardly in
keeping with grey hairs. Individually and in the
family circle it is impossible to imagine one of those
legislators doing anything ridiculous, but we are

8 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

told that collectively and when gathered together
in the " House " they are capable of many strange
things. It is good to be a boy again sometimes,
and though we cannot get back our youth, we may
at least play the fool and imagine ourselves young.

The ladies, however, gradually forced their way
into Melton, and with their sobering influence the
devilment of youth fled. Now the majority are
married men, with snug hunting-boxes in and around
the town. The bachelor element is still quartered
at the various inns, but it is on its best behaviour,
and goes meekly out to dine with Benedict, prob-
ably finishing up the evening with the all-absorbing
" bridge." In the old days bachelors returned
year after year to the same haunts, but now they
either go elsewhere, or get married, and fresh faces
appear regularly every season. These changes have
destroyed the spirit of comradeship which formerly
existed, but I think in other ways women's invasion
has been a blessing to the Meltonian.

Without this controlling influence of the fair
sex, the men of Melton, as I have said, were apt to
do strange things, and indulge in practical jokes
that would have delighted the heart of a schoolboy
or an undergraduate. A certain lord — his name
matters not — once played some jokes on the local
doctor, and his victim determined to be revenged
at the first opportunity. Not long afterwards a
slight rick in the back caused by a fall out hunting
delivered the playful peer into the hands of his
enemy. The earl was a very keen sportsman, and,
not wishing to miss a day's hunting, went straight
to the doctor to be cured as quickly as possible.
The patient bared his back, and after many un-

FOX-HUNTING AND MELTON 9

necessary thumpings the injured spot was discovered.
A strong blister — quite common in those days —
was prescribed, and the doctor offered to put it on
at once. The operation was performed, but then,
I suppose, the temptation to pay off old scores
seemed too good to be lost, and a liberal supply of
blister was smeared to that portion of the human
frame which is most intimately connected with the
saddle. The doctor went away chuckling, having
full confidence in the strength of the ointment he
had applied.

A blister, as most people know, leaves a sore
place for several weeks, and in consequence the peer
was not only unable to ride for a considerable length
of time, but finding the easiest chair unbearable,
was obliged to lie in bed. The victim was, of course,
unmercifully chaffed by his friends, but I am sorry
to say he did not take the joke in good part, and on
his recovery he administered a severe horse-whipping
to the doctor.

With the exception of old prints, we have very
little reliable evidence to go upon as to the styles
of hunting-costumes adopted at different periods
by the men of Melton ; and if artists were as careless
about details then as they are to-day, we must not
place too much faith in their drawings. Before
fox-hunting became fashionable, the long-skirted
coat, the direct ancestor of the dressing-gown-like
garment in which some masters now clothe them-
selves, was worn generally as most suitable and com-
fortable for the purpose ; but it was not likely that
fashionable young men would be content to hide a
good figure beneath such an unsightly cloak. The
consequence was frequent and rapid changes were

10 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

made, and every year Melton came out with some
startling innovation, that in the ages of the old
school was more suitable for a ballroom than the
hunting-field.

Mr. Dale, in his very interesting work, the
Belvoir Hunt, makes a statement which, with all
due deference to him, I do not consider is quite
accurate. He tells us at the beginning of the
century " leathers " were not worn at Melton, and
were first introduced from Cheshire. I cannot
conceive the smart Meltonian taking any hints in
dress from such an out-of-the-way place. The
majority of such who hunted hounds or who were
not particular about their appearance, would prob-
ably find woollen cord most serviceable, but it must
be remembered buckskin breeches were articles of
everyday apparel with those who could afford them.
In the country breeches and boots were the regular
costume, and no self-respecting squire dressed
otherwise except on Sundays or when he went to
town. At what exact period whitened buckskins
were first worn a-hunting must remain a matter for
conjecture, but we know they were used in their
natural state for riding long before the fox was an
honoured beast of chase.

There is another small matter on which I dis-
agree with Mr. Dale. In speaking of the early
history of the Quorn, he says that the resident
gentry of that county did not hunt, and that there-
fore the pack had not the advantage of local support.
There were in the Quorn territory at the beginning
of the century quite as large a proportion of hunting
landowners as could be found in any other district,
but they would, of course, appear in a minority.

FOX-HUNTING AND MELTON 11

because their land happened to be favourable to the
sport, and attracted men from every part of England.
The visitors had the advantage of longer purses,
which meant better horses, but still we know the
locals held their own in the field. The sporting
writers of that period catered for a public who were
probably more snobbish than the readers of to-day,
and they knew that the doings of the titled swells
or those with a London reputation would be more
acceptable than the names of unknown squires.
Quite natural this, but it is as impossible to get a true
account of men and matters at that date through
such gossip as it would be to write a history of our
own times from a modern society paper.

The face of Leicestershire must have altered
very considerably since the beginning of the century,
but I think there has been very little change in
the last fifty years from a riding point of view. In
the preceding half of the century the enclosing had
all been done, and except for the occasional appear-
ance of wire, igoo found us in much the same state
as 1850. I often hear people making assertions
about the fences being stronger at certain dates,
but these facts are gathered from unreliable sources,
and their theories are based on an imperfect know-
ledge of the treatment of quickthorn hedges. It
must be remembered that all the fences in Leicester-
shire were not planted in the same year. The
history of the hedge is something like this. The
quick, as the young thorn is called, was planted, and
was protected by post and rails on each side with a
ditch to carry off the water. Whilst the rails were
new, this was a formidable obstacle to encounter,
but time and weather speedily perish all wood except

12 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

oak. In seven or eight years the thorn fence was
cut and laid, and then, if properly done, a hedge
grew up that would stop the wildest bullock from
straying, and turn over any horse that tried to go
through it. Cutting and laying a fence is an art
confined to the skilled labourer of the Midlands.
The thorn is cut half-way through as close to the
ground as possible, and is then bent down between
stakes, the latter being bound together by twisted
briars or some other pliant wood. The thorn that
is cut still lives and grows, whilst a wealth of young
shoots are thrown out from the bottom. In ten or
fifteen years the old layers would have commenced
to die out, and the young shoots would have devel-
oped into a tall bullfinch. Every year after that
the hedge would gradually be showing more daylight
at bottom, and the fly-stricken bullock or the im-
petuous fox-hunter would have no difficulty in
forcing a passage. The good farmer would then
proceed to cut and lay again, so that the youth and
vigour of the fence might be revived. In this way
the hedge, in a period of twenty years, varies from
the new-cut stake and bound to the high, straggling
bullfinch. It is not the custom to lay all the fences
on the farm in one year, but to do a length every
winter, so that the fox-hunter finds the thorny
obstacles in every stage of growth, giving him that
pleasing diversity of jumps which is one of the
greatest charms in riding across Leicestershire.

I have been tempted into this long explanation
in order to show the absurdity of saying the country
is more difficult to cross than it was twenty years
ago, also because every man who hunts is not ac-
quainted with agricultural details, and therefore

FOX-HUNTING AND MELTON 13

might be glad of a little light on the subject. In
the early part of 1830 I have no doubt fences were
not as numerous as they are to-day, but then again
very little of the land had been drained, and it must
have been terribly holding in the winter. The ridge
and furrow which is now a feature of Leicestershire
pastures is a relict of the method of farming clay-
land before subsoil draining had been thought of.
On the flat, grass and corn would have perished
during a wet winter, and the only hope of a crop of
either was to throw the soil up in lands with the
plough. Of course nothing grew in the furrows,
but unless it was an exceptionally wet season,
there were hopes of a crop on the top and sides of
the ridge. Newcomers to the Shires now flounder
across these little valleys, and, cursing the roughness
of their horses' stride, wonder why nature thus
seamed the face of the country. I am not very
sure about my dates, but I think it was about 1840
or a little later that much of the grass was ploughed
up, the price of wheat being then exceptionally
high. I have a diary of my father's, dated 1835,
in which he mentions riding across country from
Ashwell — eight miles — to his own house, and he
remarks, " a very pretty gallop ; nice fencing, and
not one ploughed field." There is not much arable
in that line to-day, but it would not be easy to ride
it without getting off the grass. I suppose in those
days fewer people rode, and farmers did not mind
their land being ridden over occasionally, but it
would be a very unpopular thing now to go for a
gallop over fences without hounds. In those times
no one apparently objected, and, judging from
several entries in above-mentioned diary, it was my

14 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

father's usual custom in getting from one spot to
another to ride straight across country. The entry
generally concludes with expressing satisfaction of
the horse's performance, and elation of having dis-
covered a new line. " Larking home " was also the
usual finish to a moderate day's sport, and on one
of these occasions a Meltonian challenged my father
to jump some particularly high rails in Lowesby
Park, with the result of a broken collar-bone to
the latter. In these days we should say serve him
right, but then hard riding was in its infancy, good
riders and good horses both being scarce, so that we
must not judge the youthful spirits of those times
by the present standard. In spite of what one hears
about the good sportsmen of past generations, I
am quite certain there are a larger proportion of men
now, who take an interest in the working of hounds,
than there ever were before. The rather stupid
and oft-repeated story of "what fun it would be
were it not for these d — d hounds I " contains a
sentiment with which few could agree to-day. I
admit there is still amongst men who hunt a lack of
knowledge on the details of the sport, which they
might easily acquire, and which would enable them
to appreciate a run with hounds more than they do
now.

Referring again to my father's diary of 1835 I
find the following passage : " Talked with Hartopp
about fox-coverts ; the county men think of taking
them in their own hands, that they may have some
influence on the masters of hounds." The Quorn
country had always been hunted by strangers, and
they probably made their arrangements without
consulting the wishes of the landowners. I should

FOX-HUNTING AND MELTON 15

imagine this was the moment at which the latter
first began to assert themselves. Doubtless
previous to this date the master had been an
autocrat in the matters of fixing hunting days,
whether or not it suited the men over whose land
he hunted.

The argument Is sound, that from a hunting
point of view a country is no good without a pack
of hounds, but then it is equally true that a pack is
no use without a country. It must always be a
joint-stock arrangement, and though a master pays
all expenses, he must not imagine he is thereby
entitled to act in a way that is not conducive to the
interests of his field. The master for the time
being is the head of the hunting community, but
when he shows himself incapable of conducting the
hunt properly, or does it only in his own interests,
he should then be made to abdicate the throne.
In those few instances where the master is the
principal landlord, and where the same family
have kept the hounds for generations, the case is
different ; but even then the autocrat should con-
sider the wishes of those whom circumstance has
compelled to live within the limits of his territory.

The increasing popularity of fox-hunting has
created a demand for more packs, and therefore
more countries, with the result that there has occa-
sionally been some friction when an old-established
pack has been made to give up ground over which
they claimed the right to hunt. There is no excuse
for an individual starting hounds in another's
country, even if he is a large owner of the soil ; but
if the existing pack cannot or do not hunt a district
fairly, the residents should represent the case to the

16 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

Master of Hounds' Association, and that august body
ought to arrange a fresh division. Of course, all those
who have the interests of hunting at heart see the
necessity of giving their support to a hunt centre,
which shall adjudicate on any dispute that may
arise ; but unless this ruling power base its decision
on common sense, it cannot expect to have its
dictates unhesitatingly obeyed. It may be laid
down as an accepted fact that a country not fairly
hunted will become short of foxes, will increase in
wire, and, in short, will set up obstructions which
when once established are very difficult to remove.
Therefore it is important that the prerogative of
hunting any part of a country shall not be allowed
to lapse, and the residents are justified in taking
whatever action may be necessary for preserving
their privileges. We are all aware we have no
legal right to gallop over another man's field for our
own amusement, but custom has sanctioned the
practice, and we must not give up what is really a
birthright inherited from our forefathers.

I am not sufficiently versed in the mysteries
of the law to give an opinion, but I had an idea
that the original titles to all land came through the
Crown, and that the sovereign reserved to himself the
right, when the titles were granted, of hunting and
sporting. If that were the case, there is no reason
the king should not hand over his right tempor-
arily to the recognized pack of each district, and
then hunting would have a legal status. The
erection of barbed wire would be an unlawful
obstruction to His Majesty's right of hunting, and
would entail dreadful penalties on the offenders.
There was a little unpleasantness in the Quorn

FOX-HUNTING AND MELTON 17

country a few years ago, but I will not do more
than just refer to it, lest I rekindle smouldering
fires. A portion of the country had been lent to
the neighbouring pack, and when in course of time
they were given up, it was claimed the rights for
a separate kingdom had been established, and the
majority of the residents invited a master to accept
the throne. Many bitter things were written and
said, but in the end the Quorn were obliged to
submit to a slice of their country being taken from
them.

QHAPTER II
EARLY DAYS IN LEICESTERSHIRE

MY earliest recollections of fox-hunting are
misty and indistinct. Occasionally as a
small boy I was taken in a carriage to see
hounds, and perhaps had the pleasure of sitting on
the sharp hoop of a crinoline, but I always hated
wheels and much preferred wandering across
country on foot in the oldest clothes I could find.
Then came the thraldom of school, and in the
scanty holidays one pony amongst four boys did
not mean many days.

I can, however, remember going out with Mr.
Tailby's hounds, whilst Lord Lonsdale's figure and
low crowned hat are distinctly imprinted on my
memory. I think he had not come in for the title
long then, and was better known as Colonel Lowther.
Some of the Cottesmore country was at that time
lent to Mr. Tailby, but I can't remember how it
was divided, though I recollect going to a meet of
his hounds at Tilton village.

Mr. Tailby was one of the pluckiest riders who
ever crossed Leicestershire. No man had more
bad falls or broke more bones, but none of these
mishaps ever weakened his nerve. Though well
over eighty he had several bad smashes, and I saw
him riding over big fences, a few seasons before his
death, that many young men would have turned

i8

EARLY DAYS IN LEICESTERSHIRE 19

away from. The squire of Skef&ngton never had
a very firm seat in his best days, on account of
being rather extra short in the leg, and naturally
broken bones did not improve his grip.

Schooldays over and the stern realities of life
loomed in sight. My father very wisely told me I
should never be able to afford the luxury of hunting,
and he was quite right, but still I have managed
to ride to hounds without missing a season since I
was twenty. Nothing to be proud of certainly,
to have devoted my life and energy to my own
amusement, for I imagine we are put in this world
to work in the general scheme that is to advance
mankind to a higher plane. Hardly the place this
for moral reflections, but I do not wish a young
man picking up this book to see in my life anything
worthy of imitation. There is, of course, a pleasure
in recalling the sport one has enjoyed, but there
would be far more satisfaction if it were interspersed
with work that showed some good result. Fox-
hunting and all sport should be looked upon as
recreation — not as the business of life. The pursuit
of the fox is the most fascinating of sports, and
men are apt to devote all their energies to it, to
the exclusion of everything else. They forget
then that after all it is only an amusement, and the
fox-hunter thus gains the reputation of being selfish.

The pony gone, or relegated to a younger
brother's use, my only chance for a day's hunting
in the holidays was to hire out of the slender
resources of my pocket money. I was fortunate
in hiring a good horse at a small figure and getting
a few excellent days with the Quorn. Never
having ridden anything above a pony before, I was

20 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

delighted at being able to jump big fences, and
imagined my mount's capacities in that direction
was unlimited. I remember one day there was a
crush at a small handgate and it seemed to me a
good opportunity to jump the fence. At the first
attempt my horse refused, and I have no idea
whether the place was big or small, but as I was
going at it again — probably riding very badly —
" Brooksby " shouted out to me, " Boy, you will
kill yourself." It was nothing to do with pluck,
for I had not the faintest conception what was
feasible, and my ignorance was only equalled by
my excitement.

I carried the memory of these few happy days
with me to sea, and oft lived them over again when
keeping a night watch beneath the Southern Cross.
Life in the Merchant Service is very well in its way,
but the man with a love of sport will not find
much opportunity for indulging his bent. During
two years aboard ship, the rat was the only animal
I had a chance of hunting, and having no terrier,
I was obliged to catch them by hand. It was better
fun than you might imagine, and the risk of being
bitten lent a little extra excitement. In fair weather
towards evening a rat would often go aloft for a
little fresh air and then, unless he jumped for the
deck, his fate was generally sealed. The rest of
the ship's crew preferred to be spectators only in
these hunts, and consequently I had a monopoly
of the sport.

On leaving the sea, my love for country pursuits
and sport made me think of farming, and I have
been engaged in that fascinating but unprofitable
business ever since. I am not going to apologize

EARLY DAYS IN LEICESTERSHIRE 21

for introducing these personal details, though I
know they can be of little interest to anyone
because I could not give you my hunting experiences
without first tracing the outline of my life. It
may seem bad form to dwell too much on the doings
of a humble individual like myself, but I always
think generalities bore one more to read than the
minutiae of the humblest existence.

In the season 1880-8 1, I commenced to hunt
regularly, and though I had only one animal, a mare
about fifteen hands, she never missed her two days
a week. I always hunted on Friday with the
Quorn and the other day was either a Quorn
Monday or a Cottesmore Tuesday. Mr. Coupland
was then master, and Firr was in the zenith of his
fame.

The Quorn had great sport that season, and very
few Fridays passed without a good run. One of
the first days I rode my little mare we had a very
fast bursL from Ashby Pastures to ground in the
railway bank near Kirby . The distance is not much,
but I had never ridden in a similar gallop before
and the pace astonished me. I was, however, more
than satisfied with the mare, as I was fortunate
enough to be one of the few to get a good start.

The previous season I had been only able to get
two or three days' hunting, on which occasions I
had hired the butcher's wonderful chestnut mare.
Mr. Morris was quite a character, and was at that
time the best known figure in the Melton Hunt.
He always rode in his blue smock, and must have
weighed eighteen stone ; but when there was a stiff
bit of timber to be jumped he was always ready to
have first cut at it. Strangers then expected the

22 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

timber to be knocked down, but the little chestnut
was an extraordinary jumper, and generally carried
her heavy burden safely over. The butcher had
always a genial smile and a few cheery words to
say, so that he was popular with every one in the
hunting field. I shall ever feel grateful to him, as,
I beUeve, knowing that I was keen and had not
much money, he let his mare out to me at a ridi-
culously low price. It was from him I also bought
my little mare.

The following season has left no very certain
impression on my memory, though I know we had
some excellent sport. Hunting was stopped for
several weeks after Christmas by frost and snow.
One Tuesday the snow lay thick over the country,
but the farmers had no difficulty in getting to Melton
market in the morning. At midday, however, a
gale of wind sprang up, and in two hours' time the
drifts in the roads were level with the top of the
hedges, so that those who had delayed their depart-
ure from market until late in the afternoon were
forced to spend the night at Melton.

I believe that it was the October of this season
that an incident occurred which perhaps Firr would
not feel grateful to me for recalling. This great
huntsman was very particular about having his
pack free from riot of all kinds, and it was very
seldom you ever saw one of his charges transgressing ;
but in this instance they forgot themselves, and Firr
had to put up with much chaff afterwards when he
met a brother of the horn.

Cub-hunting had not long commenced, and the
young hounds had only been entered to their legiti-
mate quarry a few times. I believe John o' Gaunt

EARLY DAYS IN LEICESTERSHIRE 23

had been drawn blank, and a small ash plantation
called Large's Spinney was being tried on the way
to the next covert. Suddenly there was a crash of
music, and we watched expectantly to view a fox
away, when to our amazement a big black buck
came bounding out of covert with the young entry
clamouring at his heels. I don't think any of the
older hounds took an active part in the proceed-
ings, but they followed the lead of the juveniles,
no doubt to ascertain what animal they were
hunting.

I was young then, and did not consider the
feelings of the huntsmen as I should do in a similar
case now, but was keenly alive to the possibilities
of a gallop. I happened to get a good start and
had every intention of seeing the end of the fun.
Luckily for the credit of the hunt, and much to my
disappointment, the buck made a sharp turn into
John o' Gaunt on reaching the railway. The young
sinners flashed over the scent, and, of course, the
old hounds would not help them in their difficulty,
so that before they could go any farther down the
path of wickedness, the hunt officials were able to
cut them off. I must confess that my feeling at
the time was one of disappointment that such a
promising gallop should have been nipped in the
bud.

It is difficult to imagine what would have hap-
pened had the buck continued the course he was
pursuing, and gone straight over the railway, as a
good eight miles of beautiful grass lay between him
and the park from which he had strayed. The
older hounds would probably have dropped out
when they found what they were hunting, but the

24 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

young ones and a few second season hunters, I
imagine, would have continued the chase to the
bitter end.

These little accidents will happen to the best-
trained packs, but huntsmen will always make merry
over the discomfiture of one of their profession,
and the more celebrated the hunt, the more likely
is the event to become public.

The historic gallops of the past have had their
share of notice, and I am not going to bore you with
what has already been written. The most inter-
esting and instructive feature of a great run is an
exact account of hounds' work, the individual
exertions, and the pedigrees of those that were
leading at the finish. This unfortunately was not
considered worth noting by the hunting scribes of
that time, and we get instead long stories of the
fences that were jumped, but we know now these
are not reliable, as the writer was generally not in a
position to speak from personal observation.

The run which my father always put down as
the best he remembered was from Thorpe Trussells
to Vowes Gorse. I am very much afraid my parent
thought more of the riding than he did of the
hounds. I have no notes by me, and must trust to
my memory to recall the story as told me some years
ago now. It would be at the time Mr. Greene had
the hounds, because I can remember my father
saying, " Old Greene was behind, cursing and swear-
ing at me for over-riding his hounds, whilst in reality
it was all we could do to keep near them." It
was one of the biggest foxes ever seen, and the
second fence from the covert, a good four feet, he
cleared in his stride. The first point was to Dalby

EARLY DAYS IN LEICESTERSHIRE 25

windmill — a moss-grown millstone now marks the
spot — on the brow above Burdett's covert, and here
the fox turned right-handed. This was the only-
turn, and practically the only check. The farther
the hounds ran, the faster they went, and on leaving
Tilton to the right they began to forge ahead of
their field, and though a few men were just able to
keep them in sight, no one was really near them
when they reached Vowes Gorse. The fox, I believe,
was killed in the covert. Lord Gardner remarked
to my father at the time, " I did not believe before
that hounds could beat horses." I should think it
was quite possible that hounds were neither as fast
or as fit as they are to-day ; if they had been it
would not have seemed wonderful for them to out-
stay horses, though it must not be forgotten that
nearly every one rode clean-bred ones in Leicester-
shire.

Now that it is too late, I wish I had drawn
further on the same storehouse and had jotted down
a few notes, but all I can remember now are scraps
without head or tail. Mr. Little Gilmour, Lord
Gardner and Lord Wilton were contemporaries of
my father's, and were three of the best men who
visited Melton ; but the honour of the county was
worthily upheld by Mr. Cheney of Gaddesby, Mr.
Tom Heycock of Owston, and the Rev. John Wilkin-
son of South Croxton. Of course, during the years
my father hunted, Melton saw many fresh faces,
but though some shone brilliantly for a time it
was very seldom their light lasted longer than a
season.

Lord Wilton was one of the quickest men to
hounds ; but he again was, I think, another of the

26 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

school that thought more of the riding than the
hunting. My father remembered the occasion
when he beat them all in a fast gallop, I believe in
the Bel voir Hunt. There was only one way out of
the field, a foot-stile with an impenetrable bull-
finch on either side. Towards this stile a mob of
cattle were converging with all the speed that
clumsy animal is capable of for a short distance.
Lord Wilton took in the situation at a glance and
with equal promptitude raced for the stile, just
beating the leading cow by a horn. The next
second the place was effectually blocked by the
cattle, and before they could be driven away the
Earl had established a lead and was not over-
taken until the cream of the gallop was over. There
is an excellent likeness of him in Sir Francis Grant's
picture of the " Meet at Melton," at least I imagine
it must have been good at the time, because I could
pick him out from what I remembered of him many
years later. Touching this same picture, I read in
my father's diary already mentioned, " Went to
the Academy and saw F. Grant's picture of the
Melton Hunt — very good likeness of both men and
horses." We may therefore take it that, apart
from the artistic merits of the picture, the portraiture
was true to life.

Colonel Forester (the " Lad ") must have been
ten or fifteen years younger than my father, and
his was a familiar figure in the Shires up to a few
years ago. I believe he was always short-sighted,
but he could not have ridden harder if his eyes
had been good. I remember my father told me
one day there was a very dense fog, when he and
two or three others got away with hounds in a very

EARLY DAYS IN LEICESTERSHIRE 27

quick thing from Adam's Gorse. Knowing the
country perfectly, the fog made little difference to
him, and he was without difficulty able to keep in
touch with the pack. Just as he was going through
an open gateway at the bottom below Burrough,
Colonel — I don't think he had attained the rank
then — Forester came sailing down the hill, blind
and heedless of what he might be charging. It was
no small place, for in addition to the wide ditch
that lay beyond, a post and rail with ample margin
guarded the fence, but the horse must have been
a wonder, as my father said he cleared it without
an effort. Some forty years later I can recall an
afternoon gallop with the Cottesmore, or at least
one incident in it. I think we had found a fox in
Berry Gorse, and having left Leesthorpe to the
right, hounds were running fast up hill with the
Oakham turnpike a field to the left. In spite of
his sight, which had not improved, the Colonel
was gallantly taking his own line, away to my
right, but too far to warn him of the trap that lay
before him. It was an innocent-looking hedge, but
unfortunately had a ditch on either side, and the
horse, landing with his forelegs in the farther
ditch, over he went. A nasty fall for a young man,
but the veteran never let go of the bridle and was
soon going again.

It was in conversation about dancing, hunting
or some other amusement — I forget really what
now — that a lady was remarking to the " Colonel "
she would soon have to give it up. His reply was,
" Never give anything up, my dear, wait till it
gives you up, you will find things give you up
quite soon enough." This seems to me very

28 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

excellent advice, and the man who gave it certainly
acted up to the principle to the very last.

Touching that double ditch, you must not
imagine that it is an obstacle often met with in
the Shires. I only know of one other besides this,
and you might hunt from Melton many seasons
without coming across either, so that they come
as an unpleasant surprise to both horse and rider
when met with. Of course, if your misfortune
condemns you to hunt in Northamptonshire or
other barbarous counties, you must expect these
traps and ride accordingly.

Mr. Little Gilmour is the only other Hght of
the past whom I remember, and his hard riding
days were over when I arrived on the scene, though
he had always a kind word for a boy commencing
his hunting career. He was the acknowledged
prince of heavy weights, and I have often heard
my father endorse that opinion. It was said of
him he was " a lion in the field and a lamb in the
fold."

In speaking of heavy weights, I should think
Colonel Wyndham was the man of most stones who
ever attempted to hunt across Leicestershire, but
I don't think he ever tried to be in the first flight.
I believe he was comparatively a poor man, but
was very keen, and used to see a lot of sport with
two strong cobs. My father said he was a very
active man, and would run up the hills to relieve
his horse of his ponderous weight.

Lord Grey de Wilton, like his father, was an
exceptionally quick man to hounds, and in a fast
run was nearly always to be found in the first
flight. Although of a very charming personality

EARLY DAYS IN LEICESTERSHIRE 29

and extremely kind-hearted, in the hunting field
he was afflicted with the curse of jealousy, a disease
that has spoilt the pleasure of hunting for many
good men.

Mr. Cheney of Gaddesby had given up hard
riding when I knew him, but though no longer a
member of the thrusting crowd, it was easy to note
the perfect horseman. Exceptionally good hands
and a seat almost entirely by balance, were, I think,
his chief characteristics. Mr. Tom Hey cock of
Qwston and " Parson " Wilkinson of South Croxton
were both under the turf before I arrived on the
scene, but my father always said they were very
hard to beat across country.

" Parson " Bullen was a light of other days
when I remember him, but though he must have
been nearly eighty he still liked having a jump.
** Spurting Bullen " described his methods of riding
to hounds ; but in extenuation it should not be for-
gotten that he was a poor man, and probably never
owned a sound-winded horse in his life, so that his
only hope of enjoying the excitement of a gallop
was to participate in the first few minutes. On a
good jumping whistler and not scaling much over
six stone, little Bullen could hold his own for a time
with the best of them. Report said that he would
always give the leading hound pride of place, but
was averse to allowing other members of the pack
to be in front of him. He began his career as a
curate in Lincolnshire, and even in those early days
had developed his dashing tactics of riding to
hounds. These methods are not looked on favour-
ably by masters and huntsmen, so that it is not
surprising to hear that the Lord Yarborough of that

30 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

day was anxious that little BuUen should exhibit
his prowess in pastures new. The Master of the
Brocklesby was, however, a kind-hearted man, and
possessing a sense of humour he was able to do the
little curate a good turn, have a joke on a neighbour,
and rid himself of what his huntsmen considered a
nuisance. He wrote therefore to the Duke of
Rutland to say that having heard the living of East-
well was vacant, he could supply him with a hard-
riding light weight curate who would doubtless
make an excellent vicar. Belvoir soon discovered
his pecuHarities, but the little man was allowed to
retain the living to his death. I believe " Parson '*
Bullen was the original of a story which has become
rather an ancient chestnut. He was galloping
alongside of a gilded youth from Melton one day,
the Parson as usual riding a roarer and the other
an expensive purchase from Toynbee or some well-
known dealer. The Parson exclaimed, " Your
horse makes a noise," and the youth replied, " Yes !
by Jove, so he does." Whereupon the little man
tried to buy the animal ; but history does not state
whether he succeeded. When two horses are
fairly close it is not as easy to detect which makes
the noise as anyone would imagine.

CHAPTER III
ANCIENT HISTORY

THE next generation of hard riders began
before my time and were in their prime
when first I entered the hunting field, though
I would back several of them to hold their own over
a stiff country against young men to-day. Amongst
first-class men it is difiicult to say who was the
best, but there was certainly none better than
Capt. A. (Doggie) Smith. Not only was he a good
man to hounds, but he was also a very fine horseman.
It was an education in itself to see him humouring
that fiddle-headed chestnut into the belief that
there was no necessity for running away and then
steadying him up at a stiff bit of timber when the
beast was in one of his mad fits. He was, however,
an undoubtedly good horse, and carried his owner
brilliantly through many good runs, though in
previous hands he had proved to be quite un-
manageable. Capt. (Bay) Middleton was also a
very fine horseman and equally good across country.
If alive he would doubtless be still showing us the
quickest way to hounds, and taking the lead where
the fences were strongest. He was always keen,
whether it was dancing, foxhunting or steeple-
chasing, and he did everything with a boyish
enthusiasm that did one good to see. There was
one slight weakness he possessed which must have

3»

32 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

made him lose a good deal of pleasure in riding to
hounds. Unfortunately for himself he was jealous,
which meant when hounds were running he could
not fully enjoy the companionship of those equally
well placed. Capt. (Sugar) Candy was one of the
hardest men across country in the early days of Mr.
Coupland's reign, and in addition was an excellent
horseman with first-rate hands. The best man I
ever remember for getting a bad horse over Leicester-
shire was Capt. (Brooksby) Elmhirst, and he was
always to be seen in the first flight with hounds.
He was always keen, and was ever attentive to what
was going on at the covert side, so that it very seldom
happened he was left at the start.

Many other men have sparkled brilhantly for a
season or two, then their Hghts have faded, and
Melton has known them no more. With fair nerve
and a good stud of horses anyone can take a place
in the front rank, but few are able to retain that
place after some heavy falls have calmed the ex-
uberant rashness of youthful valour. Capt. Boyce
was one of the quickest men to hounds, and never
rode a "cocktail." He and Capt. Riddell are
familiar figures in our earhest recollections of the
hunting field, but they had passed the zenith of their
fame when I appeared on the scene.

Capt. Molyneux also had earned his reputation
as a hard rider before my day, but could still go to
the front when he wished. His hands were per-
fection, and he fully understood the art of using
them. Mr. Ernest ChapHn of Brooksby flourished
somewhere about the same date, and could hold his
own with the best.

In those days there was no better man across

ANCIENT HISTORY 33

country than Tom Firr, and then twenty years
later we find him still in the same position, ever
ready to face the stiffest obstacles when necessary,
but never jumping for the sake of jumping. I
remember an occasion in his last season but one
that impressed me very considerably at the time.
Hounds had been hallooed away from Botany Bay,
and the huntsman, being in the covert, made what
haste he could to follow them. Arriving at the
gate out, which had always previously only wanted
a push of the whip to open, he found it chained up.
Most of us in a similar position would have been
disconcerted, and lost time in fumbling at the
hinges, but Firr never hesitated a moment, and
turning his horse round, popped quickly over the
gate as if it had been a gap. The performance was
a masterly exhibition of nerve, quickness, and
horsemanship, a collection, I may remark, that is
not often found in men who have reached the ripe
age of fifty-eight. There is a story of Firr and two
Melton bruisers that is worth telling, though, as I
was not present, I will not vouch for the truth of
it. Capt. A. and Mr. B. were rather jealous of one
another, and each probably watched his rival's
proceedings more carefully than the hounds, but
they were generally in a prominent position during
a run, unless the desire for jumping an extra big
fence brought them to grief. One day Capt. A.
happened not to be out, and during the run Firr
found himself confronted by a piece of timber in
the corner of the field as the only means of getting to
hounds. The timber was extra high and stiff withal
(promising a fall to the man who first essayed to
charge it) .
3

84 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

It is a general rule in the Shires that if a hunts-
man wants first cut at a fence, he must make use of
his opportunity, or others will be over before him ;
but this was an occasion when no one seemed anxi-
ous to usurp the huntsman's right of going first.
Firr turned his horse half round and exclaimed, as if
to himself, " Ah ! I wish Capt. A. was here ; he
would soon show us the way over." The remark had
the effect it was intended to have, and Mr. B. dashed
gallantly at the timber, levelling it to the ground,
and taking a heavy fall. The huntsman then rode
on after his hounds, whilst the fallen sportsman
gathered himself together and remounted his horse.
These men had probably often been guilty of over-
riding hounds, so that it was a masterly stroke
of Firr's to make use of their jealousy to further his
own progress.

Coming down to my own time, I find it difficult
to speak of men critically who are still taking their
part in the hunting field. The " Bell " at Melton
sheltered a party of young men who always held
a foremost position when hounds ran. There was
Mr. (Buck) Barclay, who is still one of our leading
lights, Count Charles Kinsky, Count Kaunitz, and
Mr. Alfred Brocklehurst, the latter a finished horse-
man and a very quick man to hounds ; but they
were all first rate. I think the hardest and most
determined man across country of that period was
Mr. Edmund Leatham, for when hounds ran there
was nothing big enough or strong enough to stop
him ; but though he possessed a firm and graceful
seat, his hands were heavy. This did not prevent
him from following the pack wherever they went,
and nearly always getting to the end of a run ; but

ANCIENT HISTORY 35

he lacked that delicacy of touch which is essential
to the comfort of a horse.

A little later, but well within the eighties, Count
Zbrowski was always in the front rank when big
fences wanted jumping or wide ditches negotiating.
He was an exceptionally fine horseman in every
sense of the word, and though he was rather at
sea for his first year, he very soon trained his eye
to watching hounds. He introduced the red ribbon
into Leicestershire as the sign of a kicker, and I
remember being repeatedly asked what it was for.
This will seem curious to those who have only com-
menced hunting lately, and have been accustomed
to look on the ribbon on a horse's tail as a recognized
danger signal. About this period the loth Hussars
were strongly represented in Melton, and when
hounds ran fast, you might be pretty certain there
was one of that regiment in the front rank. Now
they all seem to have drifted away into other
countries, and the Shires see them no more ; but for
aught I know they are generals now, and the grey
hairs are creeping into the brown. The two
Bentincks, Lord Henry and Lord William, were at
that time members of the select band of hard riders
from Melton, but the young brother, Lord Charles,
had not then developed the talent for riding to
hounds which he has since shown. I should have
no hesitation in saying that the youngest is now the
best of the family. I can remember poor Edmund
Leatham riding home from hunting one night, saying
to me, " I'm afraid that young Charlie Bentinck
will never ride like his brothers ; he does not seem
to have any dash." I quote this conversation
merely to show that parents need not despair of

36 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

their boys going well across country because they
do not exhibit much excellence at first.

I have seen Mr. Beaumont Lubbock in a fast
gallop ride brilliantly to hounds, but he was too
courteous and unselfish in a scramble for a start.
His horses were always good and his horsemanship
perfect. I have had the pleasure of hunting with
him for twenty seasons, but have never seen him
lose his temper or speak crossly to anyone. The
man with this record, who hunts and who is also a
martyr to the gout, is the nearest approach to a
saint that I can imagine.

These are a few of the Melton men whom I can
remember, but there are many others, just as good
riders, whose names I cannot recall and who were
only with us for a season or two. Beyond Melton,
out in the country and round Oakham, men lived
who, we expected to see regularly every Cottesmore
Saturday, and usually with the Quorn. The best
all-round man I always considered to be Mr. Cecil
Chaplin, as he not only rode well, but knew what
hounds were doing.

Before I became correspondent to the Field, I
generally hunted with the Cottesmore on Tuesdays.
Neal was then huntsman, and though he was not a
great artist, he showed some very good sport. The
Goslings were familiar figures at every meet, and
were all real good sportsmen. We have some of
the family with us still ; but the ever cheery
" Colonel " we have not seen for years, and the
" Old Goose," I am sorry to say, is dead. Mr.
Henry Callander and Mr. Granville Farquhar were
hard men to beat, but it was a pleasure to ride a
run in their company, as they were always cheery

ANCIENT HISTORY 37

and keen. In those days Sir Bache Cunard was
master of the country south of Billesdon, but I
don't remember hunting with him more than two
or three times. His brother, Mr. Gordon Cunard,
was the best man with that pack then, though Mr.
Logan was almost equally good !

I am not quite certain about the date, but it
was either in '82 or '83 that the vicar of Waltham
made his first appearance in Leicestershire. Many
seasons have slipped away since then, but Parson
Seabrook up to the season before his death in
1913 was always in the front rank when hounds
ran fast. His horses had generally a weak spot
in their tempers, but with a resolute heart and a
strong pair of legs they were made to compete
successfully with the best mounted field in England.
Mr. Hatfield Harter hunted from Melton in the
eighties, and was one of our very best men. Some-
times he now pays us a flying visit, and we see then
he has lost none of his dash or quickness in riding
to hounds. There are hosts of other men whom I
can remember as going well and who with a lead
would go anywhere, but those I have mentioned
were all capable of cutting out the work and finding
their way across country unassisted. I have
known men who were quite willing to ride first at a
fence if they had someone alongside of them, but
directly they found themselves alone with hounds
were hopelessly at sea and utterly incapable of
retaining the position they had won. Mr. Hugh
Lowther — Lord Lonsdale now — I remember hunt-
ing with the Cottesmore, but in those days he was
seldom out with the Quorn. I have elsewhere
stated that I consider him one of the best horse-

38 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

men and one of the best men to hounds that I
know.

Judging from the stories that have been handed
down to us, I should say there is less competition
in riding now than was the case forty or fifty years
ago. Still there has always been a little ^harmless
jealousy between Grantham and Melton, when
both towns were equally represented in a Belvoir
field. Hounds then were generally over-ridden
and the sport had to suffer, but the hard men
gain some extra excitement in their struggles for
supremacy. Some years since a large landowning
baronet ^ on the Grantham side was one of the
quickest men to hounds, and when the Belvoir
met near Melton his was a foremost figure in a
fast burst.

One day Melton Spinney was being drawn, and
the brook below swept down the valley a muddy,
swollen torrent. The railway that now lies beyond
had not then been thought of, and as foxes generally
run a line towards Welby, the first men over the
water were not easily caught. On this occasion
the brook had overflowed, the ford was almost
impassable, and the banks being invisible a horse
could not see where to take off, so that there was
every chance of a ducking for the man who risked
a jump. To every one's surprise and annoyance
the fox faced the stream, when how to get over
became the burning question of the moment. The
gallant baronet grasped the situation and rode
straight down with every intention of getting across
wet or dry. Fortune favoured him, for a young
hound having waded through the shallow water,

^ Sir Thomas Whichcotc,

ANCIENT HISTORY 89

was standing hesitatingly on the brink of the
stream. The man saw his opportunity at once
and rode directly at the hound, so that the horse
taking off at this hound guard-fence landed him
well on to the other side. The hound naturally
did not wait to be made use of again and the
baronet was thus alone with the pack ; but his
brilliant exploit met with scant reward, as the fox
ran only one field and then turned back to recross
the brook. I give this as an instance of quick-
ness and decision in grasping an opportunity, which
is the characteristic of a good man across country,
but I do not advise the beginner to try and
emulate the feat, as it is not a method that would
commend itself to a master of hounds.

Some five-and-twenty years ago, a man came to
Melton from whom the biggest fence in Leicester-
shire had no terrors, and though he may not have
been popular with masters of hounds or huntsmen,
he was undeniably brave. On one occasion that
season hounds were running smartly from Prior's
Coppice and two first-flight men having noted the
newcomer's ambition, thought the opportunity
well timed for a joke. In the valley was a brook
that was almost unjumpable, but a handy ford
made the feat unnecessary. The newcomer suddenly
found himself sandwiched between two well-known
men, racing downhill at the brook, and this at
once awoke a desire to be first over the water.
Fast as he went his two attendants kept beside
him until within a length or two of the banks, when
they dropped back and the next second splash he
went into the water, whilst the others rode quietly
through the ford.

40 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

A Leicestershire field has the reputation of being
rather averse to open water, but those who have
hunted in that country for any length of time have
generally found by experience that the brooks are
much easier to get into than to get out of. The
banks are of clay, and the bottom is usually of the
same material, so that the former get washed away
and undermined, whilst the latter have a tenacity
for holding a horse in the water which often means
a cart team to pull him out. The first flight are,
however, always ready to ride at a brook when
one comes in their way, a combination of bold-
ness in horse and man then generally carries them
safely over. If either is vacillating or half-hearted
in making the attempt, they are pretty certain
to come to grief. There is a certain amount of
satisfaction in sailing down at a brook and flying
over without having to look at the place first.
The satisfaction is considerably enhanced when
the next man makes a hole in the water and
then crawls dripping up the bank. The streams
that divide the different valleys in Leicestershire
are very deceptive, and one place may be only
six feet wide, whilst a few yards right or left it is
quite likely to be twenty feet. I remember one day
we came down to the Twyford brook ; hounds
were not running very fast, and a friend said,
" Where can we get over ? " " Come on," I rephed,
and digging in my heels rode confidently at a place
I thought was quite small. My memory was,
however, slightly at fault, and the horse, thinking
the jump beyond his powers, tried to cut it in the
last stride. In we went with a splash, much to
the amusement of the others, who, finding the spot

ANCIENT HISTORY 41

I had misjudged by a few yards, were able to cross
without difficulty.

Firr tells a story which I have no doubt is true,
and which he considers the best example of coolness
he can remember within his varied experience.
Hounds were running fast, and down they came to
a brook. On one side of Firr and a few lengths in
front, a stranger was riding gallantly at the stream.
His horse, however, was not quite of the same mind,
and on reachmg the banks swerved suddenly to one
side. The man went on, and turning a somersault
in the air, disappeared under water. The cele-
brated huntsman could not check his horse and
sailed over, but while he was in the air a hatless head
bobbed up out of the water directly beneath him,
and a voice cried " Cuckoo." The remark may not
have been very witty, but I think most of us under
the circumstances would have been too much afraid
of the flashing hoofs above our heads to have said
anything. This reminds me of rather an amusing
incident which happened to the same huntsman,
though it has nothing to do with Leicestershire, but
the story borders on the indelicate, and ladies are
therefore requested to turn the page unread.

At that time this huntsman was with some pack
in Scotland, and it was their custom to exercise
hounds along the seashore in the early morning.
It was a wild part of the coast, with no habitation
near, and three ladies thought it would be an ex-
cellent place to bathe without costumes. The tide
had gone out for fully half a mile, and leaving their
clothes on shore the ladies proceeded to dip them-
selves in the sea. In the midst of their splashings,
one of the mermaids turned round and to her dis-

42 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

may saw a pack of hounds with hunt servants ad-
vancing along the water's edge. Their first idea
was to rush to their clothes for protection, but they
had misjudged distance, and found they would have
to pass in full view of the cavalcade. The three
nude figures then dropped on to the sand, and
squatting down, turned their backs on the hunt.
All would have been well had not the curiosity of
an old hound been aroused by these strange objects,
and wishing to find out what they were, he left the
pack and advanced silently with cautious steps
across the sands. " Solomon " had never before
seen the human form divine unclothed, and knowing
his eyesight occasionally deceived him, he meant to
ascertain by sense of touch or smell what the pink
statues were made of. " Solomon " crept nearer
and nearer, but the ladies heard nothing, and no
doubt thought their ordeal was nearly over, when
one of them suddenly felt the hound's cold nose in
the middle of her back. There was a yell of terror,
and, oblivious of the men in scarlet, the frightened
women rushed screaming to their clothes.

CHAPTER IV
MR. JOHN COUPLAND

1870-1884

BEFORE dipping into the storehouse of
memory for incidents and sport in my own
time, I must give you a few personal
details.

After nearly two years in the Merchant Service,
I came to the conclusion that if I continued in that
profession I should never have an opportunity of
indulging my love for sport. The previous two
years' training on the Conway, and subsequent
time at sea, were not what the Americans would
describe exactly as " a picnic," but the discipline
and hard work certainly did me a lot of good, as
well as proving useful in after life.

My father strongly advised me to go into business,
but I hated towns and loved a country life, so that
it did not take me long to decide on farming. A
very pleasant occupation for those who have a
natural bent that way, and the soil can always
be depended upon to give a fair return for outlay,
if judiciously expended. Although I can claim
that my efforts on the land nearly always met with
success, I have to admit that I squandered my
gains on illegitimate objects, such as speculating

in hunters and backing horses on the race-course.

43

44 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

If the love for an occasional bet is in your blood
and you also are keen on racing, it is a very difficult
matter to abstain altogether. There is no harm
in having a bet if you always make it a rule never
to risk more than you can lose without inconvenience
to yourself or to anyone who is dependent on you.
Remember that backing horses is a losing game,
and though you may win at first, you are certain
to be out of pocket in the end. The immoral side
appears to me to be contained in the attempt to
make money without working for it, and as we
are all meant to work, by doing otherwise we try
to defeat the ways of providence.

If you must have a bet, you might satisfy your
conscience by making it a rule, that in case of loss
you are prepared to sacrifice some luxury you
usually enjoy.

It was in the autumn of 1879 I left the sea, and
it was some time during the following winter that I
bought from Morris, the Melton butcher, a little bay
mare, who carried me many seasons. During the two
following seasons I hunted her regularly two days
a week — usually Friday with the Quorn and either
the same pack on Monday or the Cottesmore on
Tuesday.

Being one of a large family I never had much
money, and, of course, with no prospects of in-
heriting any, I ought to have settled down to hard
work. That I have been able to hunt from that
time until now was due entirely to being fortunate
enough to get the job of hunting correspondent.

It is from these weekly contributions I propose
to cull any news or other matter which I think may
prove of interest. Although my duties as corre-

MR. JOHN COUPLAND 45

spondent covered days with the Cottesmore and
Belvoir as well as the Quorn, I lived in the latter
country, and shall therefore date my yarns by the
different periods of mastership. Actual dates are, of
course, very useful in a book of reference — this is
not — but I think to the ordinary individual they
are dry and unpalatable.

Mr. Coupland was a real good sportsman, and
there was probably a better average of first-class
runs during his reign than have been seen before
or since. The Quorn were in want of a master
and his offer to take the hounds was accepted,
though almost practically unknown in Leicester-
shire. When business allowed, I believe he had
been a fairly constant attendant with the Cheshire
packs. To the average hunting man, unfamihar
with business, the mere fact that the new master
was an owner of ships spelt riches with a capital R,
and he had no idea of the large share which credit
frequently plays in such undertakings. Mr. Coup-
land was a clever man without a large amount of
capital at his back, and at the time he took the
hounds, he was apparently on the high road to
fortune. Unfortunately for him there came a slump
in shipping a little later, and freights were reduced to
a minimum.

Having the control of an important country like
the Quorn, with the numerous and unavoidable
expenses attached thereto, with a large business
that was threatening every day to collapse, it will
be seen that he had a heavy load to bear.

At that period the master settled damages and
paid compensation for poultry, etc. I am quite sure
that Mr. Coupland would have paid all claimants

46 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

handsomely if his private purse had not been so
severely taxed at that moment, but as it was he
paid only the most pressing and thereby was subject
to some rather hard cricitism on leaving. My idea
is that he not only deserved our warm thanks for the
excellent sport he had shown, but that he should
have had our sympathy in his difficulties. He was
very keen and did all in his power to maintain the
glories of the Quorn, and, I feel sure, would never
have resigned had it not been for his financial
troubles, which almost to the last he hoped would
be overcome. Let it not be forgotten that he
brought Firr to the country, found a very moderate
pack in kennel, and left one that earned itself a
great reputation.

My first introduction to hunting journalism
appeared in Bell's Life above the signature of " Corde
Chasse," and I always remember with some pride that
my earliest efforts came out beneath the sleepless
eye of that ancient sporting weekly. Being only a
beginner, I followed the lead of well-known corre-
spondents and always gave a full list of those
present at a meet — no doubt the fact that I was
paid for quantity made the addition of names a
consideration.

It was on nth November 1882 that my maiden
article appeared in the above-mentioned paper,
and being a first attempt at literary composition of
any kind, the effusion probably cost me much
anxious labour. I was considerably indebted at
this period for assistance and encouragement I
received from " Brooksby," who was then, as now,
the king of hunting correspondents.

In the list of names at Kirby Gate, 1882, I see

MR. JOHN COUPLAND 47

that of the Rev. Bullen, who was then in his eighty-
fifth year, and, according to my account, " looking
as well as ever." His hard riding days were over,
but I can remember him going well a year or two
earlier, though his style did not get him often to the
end of a long run.

The best day we had in November of that season
was on the 17th of the month, but on looking
through my account I find we did not kill a fox.
I remember the occasion well, and can see now the
dull, leaden sky as we rode to the meet at Rearsby.
There was a great scent, and hounds raced from
Brooksby Spinney to Barkby Holt. Somewhere
near the Gaddesby brook another fox jumped up,
and part of the pack went in pursuit. The Duke of
Portland, Mr. Walter Peake, Downes, and the writer
happened to find themselves following the erring
division. It was too late to join the main body
then, and we therefore determined to make the
most of our mistake. The run fox had gone straight
on, whilst ours bore left-handed, and I remember
took us over a very stiff country by Barsby to South
Croxton. I think we only had about five couple of
hounds, but with a burning scent and the fox hardly
out of sight it took us all our time to live with
them. Naturally we did not say much about it at
the time, but my companions will probably remem-
ber that stirring little gallop now.

Mr. Walter Peake — Colonel is, I believe, his title
now — ^belongs to Leicestershire, and is the possessor
of exceptionally good hands, an article which many
of our best riders lack. Downes was rough-rider to
Mr. Julius Behrens, and an accomplished horseman
as well as a very quick man to hounds.

48 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

Frost and snow came early that season, and for
the first fortnight in December there was practically
no hunting. The weather suddenly changed, and
the Meltonians, who had all gone away, could not
get back to meet the Quorn on Monday, i8th De-
cember, at Six Hills. Foxes were rather hard to
find, but we eventually found one at Ella's Gorse,
and he gave us a first-rate gallop. In those days
there was no bridge over the stream that flows
below the covert, and getting over was not an easy
matter. There was one place close to the covert
where fence and brook could be jumped together,
but it wanted a fairly bold horse to face it. On
this occasion the only man who rode at it was Capt.
Elmhirst, with his arm in a sling, but he either had
not enough steam on or his horse funked it, and,
dropping its hind legs, fell back into the water.
Hounds turned sharp to the left, and we did not
catch them until we were close to Willoughby Gorse.
From thence on we had a most enjoyable gallop to
Bunny Wood, eventually losing our fox in the
sticky ploughs near Leake, after taking him through
Stanford Park. The fast part of the gallop was
twenty-eight minutes with a five-mile point.

In December and January sport was very meagre,
but it was not from the want of moisture, as I think
we had more rain that winter than I ever remember
since. The last Tuesday in January gave the
Cottesmore a very fast five-mile gallop from Prior's
Coppice. It was late in the afternoon, and as there
appeared no scent, nearly every one had gone home.
Hounds raced the whole way, and horses had diffi-
culty in living with them. I did not see this gallop
myself, but those who were in it said it was the

MR. JOHN COUPLAND 49

quickest thing of the season. This afternoon burst
was the prehminary to some very excellent sport,
of which the Quorn had, I think, the lion's share.
On 2nd February that pack, finding a fox in Gartree
Hill, raced across the Burton Flats by Wild's Lodge
nearly to Stapleford, and then, swinging left-handed,
ran into Burbidge's covert. Here was the first
check, and possibly a change of foxes, but the pace
was equally good across that stiff line to Guadaloupe
and down to the river at Eye Kettleby. After
crossing the river it was only slow hunting, and the
fox was lost near Sysonby. Mr. Arthur Pryor had
the misfortune on this occasion to kill his old
favourite chestnut in jumping a gate. The horse
was noted for his timber- jumping qualities, and had
carried his owner safely over many a high-backed
stile, but he had reached his twentieth year, and
the activity of youth had been replaced by the
stiffening joints of age.

On the next Monday the same pack had about
the best run of the season with the old bob-tailed
customer who had set both the Belvoir and Quorn
at defiance for some time. We found him in Holwell
Mouth, and getting away on good terms, hounds
ran fast to Little Belvoir, where they turned left-
handed up the hill and ran at a modified pace to
Cant's Thorns. Here our bob-tailed friend waited
for us, and, relying on his cunning rather than his
speed, laid down in the covert, and, getting up after
the pack had passed, slipped away to Kettleby
village. Firr was not to be beaten by these tactics,
and getting his pack clear of the village they settled
down to race. Past Old Hills and Scalford Spinney
the pace was so good that few men were able to
4

60 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

keep near hounds. Then came some plough, which
brought the pack to their noses ; but Firr held them
forward on to the grass, and leaving Melton Spinney
on the right they ran straight away to Freeby Wood.
The fox evidently meant going on, but unluckily
one sportsman was a little too forward and turned
him back into covert. The remainder of the run
was slow hunting, and it was only by an excep-
tionally fine bit of science that Firr was able to hold
on to his fox. Back we went across the valley of
the Melton brook and past Chadwell, then between
Scalford and Goadby a halloa put us on better
terms. The pace increased again, hounds were
bristhng for blood, and the next two miles it was all
we could do to keep them in sight. Leaving
Clawson Thorns just on the left, the pack running
from scent to view rolled over one of the stoutest
foxes I have ever seen hunted. It was two hours
and fifteen minutes from the find, and most of the
time hounds had been running fast. I remember
there was a general exclamation of "Of course, it
is not the same fox." Firr said nothing, but held
up a three-inch stump of brush. We had started
with a " bob-tailed " fox and we finished with one ;
but there are people who will always say there has
been a change, and had not they been silenced by
the short brush, the huntsman's truimph would
have been disputed by their loud-voiced opinions.

I have mentioned this run because it is one of
my earUest impressions of Firr's wonderful skill
and patience. There was a good scent on the grass,
but very little on the plough, and I know no other
man who would have brought that fox to hand
under similar conditions.

MR. JOHN COUPLAND 51

On the following Friday, 9th February, the
Quorn had again another first-rate day's sport,
though without killing a fox. Finding at Barkby
Holt, they ran round by Queniborough and then
straight away to Ashby Pastures^ — very fast. The
quickest thing of the day, however, was a streaming
gallop from Thorpe Trussells, in which hounds were
always a field ahead of horses. This was a ring,
but so fast had it been that most people had no idea
such was the case until they found themselves back
at the starting-point. Fresh foxes in every direc-
tion and a bad scenting covert saved the life of
the one that had staggered back in front of hounds.
This was perhaps an unsatisfactory day for hounds
and huntsmen, but for the hard riding section of
the field I think it was the best day of the season.

There was little more sport in February, and
then came a first-rate scenting day on the 2nd of
March. Foxes were getting scarce on the south
side of the Quorn Friday country, and the good
scent was wasted. There was, however, a very fast
forty minutes from Lord Morton's, and hounds
fairly raced their fox to death ; but it was a twisting
sort of gallop, and did not commend itself to the
hard riders.

The following Monday the Quorn had very
indifferent sport in the morning at Lodge-in-the-
Wolds, though they managed to kill their fox.
Then Curate's Gorse and several other coverts
were drawn blank until late in the afternoon, when
Mr. Coupland decided to go home. The field may
perhaps have misunderstood him, or in a momentary
fit of weakness he may have been persuaded to
change his mind, but certain it is that only those

62 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

whose route home lay with the pack saw Ella's
Gorse drawn. The result was a five-and-thirty
minutes' racing gallop, and there are men in Melton
now who bewail that lost opportunity. This was
the end of a fortnight's beautiful spring weather,
and before the middle of the week the ground was
covered with snow, there being at least six inches
of it on Friday, gth March. I suppose the country
to the north of the Wreake was getting short of
foxes as the Quorn met at Great Dalby on Monday,
19th March. There was some frost and snow still
left, but the " going " on the whole was very good.
We found a capital fox in Gartree Hill, and had one
of the most enjoyable days of the season. Hounds
ran fast through the Punchbowl, and leaving
Somerby to the left went nearly to Owston village,
but bearing to the right they crossed a beautiful
line and lost their fox in between Tilton and
Skefhngton. A good six-mile point.

The next Monday provided us with one of the
fastest gallops of the season. The morning had
been spent in walking after a fox in the neighbour-
hood of Lodge-in-the-Wolds, and as there did not
seem much chance of sport, very few went on to see
Ella's Gorse drawn. A fox went away at once
with hounds close at his brush, and for twenty-eight
minutes they raced him without a check. Another
few seconds would have sealed his fate, but the
main earths in Shoby Scoles were open and he
just reached them with not more than a yard or
two to spare.

We were bothered with both frost and snow at
intervals nearly up to the end of March, and then
the weather became suddenly warm again. The

MR. JOHN COUPLAND 53

Quorn finished the month by running a fox very
smartly from one of the Gaddesby coverts and
kilHng him in Beeby village. The same pack
had their last day of the season on the following
Monday, when they met at Lord Wilton's house,
Egerton Lodge, Melton. This was a huge meet,
with visitors from all the surrounding hunts. I
remember it was Count Charles Kinsky's first
appearance amongst us after his success in the
Grand National, a few days previously, on Zoedone.
He had left us a month before to ride gallops and
to get himself fit ; but before going he had told me
he thought he had a good chance, and being a great
admirer of his horsemanship. I invested my modest
sovereign at 20 to i.

With the ground dry and a hot sun, this last
day did not promise much sport. A fox managed
to get a long start from Gartree Hill, and it was
slow hunting by Little Dalby and Pickwell to the
Noel Arms. Firr, however, wanted to finish the
season with blood, and sticking to his fox eventually
managed to get on better terms, when hounds
increased their pace and killed close to Stapleford
Park. The Cottesmore finished their season the
next day with a very fast seventeen minutes and a
kill from Stapleford.

Season 1883-1884

October of that year brought us some capital
sport. Towards the end of the month the Quorn
had a very fast gallop from Gaddesby Spinney, and
I do not ever remember hounds running better for
thirty minutes. It was not very straight, but we

54 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

went over a beautiful country and there was not
a sign of a check. I have a vivid recollection of
the gallop, and the stiff line we had to cross that
bright autumn afternoon. The fences had lost
none of their leaf, and the ditches were overgrown
with grass. Men and horses were steaming with
perspiration when hounds marked their fox to
ground in a drain beneath the turnpike close to
Brooksby Hall. The pack deserved blood, and
Firr meant to have it ; but for once in a way he
made a mistake in not trying forward. The fox
had gone right through the drain, and whilst we
were sending for terriers, he was putting himself
at a safe distance from the hunt. The same pack
had another capital afternoon spin the following
Monday. This was from Ella's Gorse. A brace
of foxes went away, and only a small portion of the
field realized that Firr was intent on following the
one which had crossed the brook. There was never
any difference of opinion on a question of this sort
between the pack and their huntsman. He would
give two or three cheers and they were after him
as quick as lightning. Hounds after one fox and
huntsman after another was a thing unknown in
the Quorn country.

On this occasion they were streaming up the
grass beyond the brook before most people were
aware a brace of foxes had gone away, and those
who had thus lost this start never saw the hunt
again that day. A thick fog came on, hounds ran
very fast, and it was impossible to catch them up
if once you got behind.

It was on the 15th of November that the Barkby-
Holt customer was first found. I give him that

MR. JOHN COUPLAND 55

title because it was by that name he was known,
but on this occasion we found him at Baggrave.
Hounds ran very fast by Carr Bridge and across
the Ashby valley to Thorpe Trussells. The sky
then clouded over and scent entirely disappeared.
I have no doubt in my own mind that this was the
same fox we found the following Friday at Barkby
Holt when he gave us an exceptionally good run,
but there was not much covert in the Prince of
Wales' then, which was perhaps his reason for
seeking fresh quarters. I remember the events of
the day distinctly. We had killed a fox from
Gaddesby after a smart scurry and then went on
to draw Barkby Holt. Firr asked me to watch
the down wind side, so that I had a good oppor-
tunity of seeing this extraordinary fox as he went
away — a big dark coloured fellow with, I believe,
hardly any white on his brush. It was in the
gorse he was lying and not in the wood, though we
generally speak of the whole covert as the Holt.
My lungs were pretty strong in those days, and
though I was down wind of the pack, they were all
out of covert before the huntsman could get round.
From the Holt to Large's Spinney near Loseby
Station is a five-mile point, and hounds never
checked or hesitated a second. The fox ran through
the Prince of Wales' covert and pursued the same
line he had done the previous Friday as far as Carr
Bridge, but he then kept to the brook-side by
Lowesby Hall and until he had baffled us at the
station. If I remember right, I think there were
not more than half a dozen men who were actually
with hounds up to this point, and they were glad
enough of a check as their horses could not possibly

56 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

have galloped up the hill to Tilton. When the line
was recovered, scent seemed to have changed and
our fox eventually beat us at Owston Wood. A
fortnight later we again found our old friend at
Barkby Holt, and through the field being drawn up
on the side he wished to break, he was obliged to
take a turn round Croxton village before he could
get on his favourite track. The pace was good at
the start, but soon degenerated into a slow hunting
run, and was a very poor imitation of the great
gallop over the same line. On this occasion the
fox was lost soon after passing Tilton, though he
no doubt went on to Owston Wood. Now comes
the sad part of the story. The following Friday
the meet was at Beeby, and Mr. Coupland could not
resist the temptation of having another try at the
old customer. There was a strong wind blowing,
and hounds drew the Holt up wind. The gallant
fox, who had already given us three good runs, was
resting from his exertions of the previous week,
and hounds were upon him before he knew they
were in covert. His stiffened limbs refused to act,
and in this ignominious fashion died the hero of
the season's best gallop.

On Monday, loth December, we had a very
good run from Ragdale Wood and killed our fox
at Clawson village. The first five-and-twenty
minutes to old Dalby Wood were very fast. It
was in the afternoon, and the field had assumed
reasonable dimensions. I can see the hounds now
as they raced over those flat twitch-grown fields
that lie to the north of Shoby Scoles, and Mr.
Beaumont Lubbock popping over a gate just before
we crossed the Shoby Lane. What fun it was !

MR. JOHN COUPLAND 57

This was one of the many good runs we had that
season, but it would be difficult to say which was
the best. Nearly every day produced a gallop,
and I can recall no season in my experience that
could boast such a record of good sport. Regularly
every Friday and Monday the Quorn had a run
that in these days we should call first-class, but
there is not space here to give an account of all.

On Boxing Day we had a screaming fifteen
minutes from Thrussington Gorse, and the following
Monday's hounds had an extraordinary hard day.
Finding a fox in Curate's Gorse they ran first of all
to Widmerpool, and then swinging round to the
left ran across the vale to Holwell Mouth. Here the
pack changed on to a fresh fox, and all the efforts
of the whip were of no avail to stop them. We
then had a rattling gallop through Sherbrooke's
covert and bearing left-handed round Upper
Broughton, made straight for the hills again.
There was rather a long check at Watnaby Stone-
pit Spinney, but the line was at length recovered
and we went slowly on to Saxelbye Wood. Whether
or no it was a fresh fox that went away from this
covert, I could not say, but he managed to slip
away with a long start and the pace to Ragdale
village was very moderate. Hounds then spurted
again and ran sharply down to the earths in the
Hoby Vale.

I think we must have changed at Saxelbye Wood,
as the fox that had been bustled in the vale could
not have gone on, whereas the one we were hunting
kept getting farther ahead. It was a real good fox,
and finding the earths closed he went straight on,
leaving Cossington Gorse and Seagrave to the left.

58 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

passing Burton and finally beating hounds close to
Wymeswould.

On referring to my weekly contributions to the
County Gentleman, the Quorn appear to have had a
good run nearly every day they went out. On 4th
January they had a fine hunting run from Scraptoft,
and killed their fox in Gaddesby Spinney. I re-
collect the occasion well, as it was one of those
marvellous performances of Firr's that impressed all
those who had the pleasure of hunting with him.
Then on the following Monday we had two great
gallops, neither of which, however, finished with
blood. The first fox we found in Grimstone Gorse,
and after a very fast forty-five minutes marked
him to ground in Goadby Gorse. It was well for
this fox that the covert was not half a mile farther,
for he would assuredly never have saved his brush.
There was no ringing or twisting at the start, and
hounds went straight away from field to field, with
very few people in attendance.

The leading lights on that occasion were Capt.
Smith, Mr. Alfred Brocklehurst, and " Brooksby."
Within the first two miles the line included three or
four very awkward bottoms, and these helped to
make the front rank the more select. The bottom
is the most awkward obstacle we have to encounter
in Leicestershire, and neither man nor horse may
have a weak spot in his nerves if he hopes to nego-
tiate it safely. A bottom is a ditch that divides a
little valley, and is guarded on one side by a fence.
The difference between a brook and a bottom is
that the former contains running water more or less
all the year round, whilst the latter is dry except
when the heavy rains of winter rush down the little

MR. JOHN COUPLAND 59

hills in haste to reach the sea. In their turbulent
haste the waters are continually washing away and
undermining the clay banks, so that what appears
to be an innocent-looking fence may hide an un-
jumpable gulf that would hold half a dozen horses.
Later in the day the field found themselves at
Welby Osierbeds, and the run that ensued was if
anything better than the first. To Scalford Wind-
mill hounds ran without a check, and again only a
select few were in the same field with them. I think
after that we must have changed foxes, and the
remainder of the run was rather twisty ; but hounds
were still hard at work when faiUng light and tired
horses made it necessary to turn for home. Those
who took a foremost part in either or both of these
two runs will, if alive, have a very distinct recollec-
tion of the chief incidents of the day, and I feel sure
that the Duke of Portland, who was going parti-
cularly well, will not have forgotten those exciting
moments. At one time we had crossed the Waltham
road, but the fox soon turned back again, and the
remainder of the run was enacted in the valley near
Melton Spinney. Stirring gallops still crowded one
another, and we never had a bad day. The run
that I can remember enjoying more than anything
in that season started at Thorpe Trussells and
finished at Burton. The morning had been most
uninteresting, and to all appearance there was very
little scent. Then matters did not improve much
when we first left the Trussells, but the ground had
been foiled, and the fox had got some distance ahead.
It was one of those moments when the field begin
to lose interest at the prospect of sport fading away
to nothing, and the talk is of the shortest way home.

60 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

These were the occasions when Firr's exceptional
talents would come to the fore, and you might be
certain that if it were possible to retrieve the day,
it would be done. The day had been unproductive
of any amusement for the field, and it was plainly
evident to us the fox was getting farther ahead
every moment. Not half a mile away was Adam's
Gorse, and it was then, as it is to-day, the home of
good foxes ; but at that time it was a gorse only in
name, and there was very little lying in the spinney.
Firr galloped on towards the covert to get on better
terms with his own fox or to cross the line of another.
A whip was sent on so that there should be no
mistake, and a minute later hounds were streaming
up the hillside that protects the covert from the
east. There was not a great scent, but it had im-
proved considerably since the morning, and we had
got away on good terms. I remember, however,
we had to gallop best pace to keep in touch with
the pack as they swept down on to the old steeple-
chase course and then bore left-handed towards
Burdett's covert. The fox then for some reason
turned up the hill in the direction of Great Dalby,
and thereby took us over some very stiff fencing
before bringing us to the road by Gartree Hill.
Hounds never entered the covert, but just skirted the
boundary hedge to emerge beyond on to the Burton
Flat. Here were one or two fields of plough, but
scent had improved so much that hounds were able to
cross it quicker than horses, and, of course, directly
they touched the grass again they were flying along
at top speed. We seemed to have only just left
Gartree Hill and a few minutes later we were in the
big field by Brentingby gate-house. If you know

MR. JOHN COUPLAND 61

the country, you will know we crossed the best of
the Burton Flats. The fox swung to the left on
reaching the river, and entered Burbidge's covert ;
but he dare not dwell, and the pack drove him out,
killing a few minutes later in Burton village.

This was exactly thirty-five minutes from the
time of leaving Adam's Gorse to Burbidge's covert,
with a five - and - a - half - mile point. Whether we
started with a fresh fox from that little covert I
am not able to say, but think not. It was the place
to which the one we were hunting appeared to be
going, and it was Firr's marvellous quickness in
anticipating his intentions that gave us the gallop.
Hounds were never touched after leaving Adam's
Gorse. I looked back on this as one of the best
gallops I ever saw. The date was nth January
1884. There were several other good runs before
the end of the season.

This was the end of Mr. Coupland's reign of the
Quorn, and he was succeeded in office by Lord
Manners.

CHAPTER V
LORD MANNERS

1884-1886

THE season '84-' 85 I was not writing for any
paper, or, at least, not regularly, and I have
no notes with which to refresh my memory.

Poor old Bell's Life ceased to be a weekly some
time in the summer of 1883 and was, I believe,
incorporated more or less with a sporting daily. In
spite of the Motto and the eye that never slept,
this ancient paper had been content to slumber
on with its out-of-date journalism, allowing the
Field to usurp its place and become an established
favourite.

The season '83-84 I wrote for the County
Gentleman, which at that period was struggling to
keep its head above water with, I fear, rather in-
different success. How many times it has changed
hands since then I do not know, but it is still in
existence, and much in the same style as when I
knew it, but I understand it is now flourishing.

Even in its struggling days the articles were
always printed in a bold, clear type, that did not try
the eyes to read, which is, I think, a great recom-
mendation to any paper. About twenty years
later I wrote them a series of articles on beagles.

In the summer of 1885 I was offered " Brooks-

62

LORD MANNERS 63

by's " post on the Field, which embraced the report-
ing of hounds* doings within the Melton circuit.
This meant Monday the Quorn, Tuesday the Cottes-
more, Wednesday the Belvoir, Thursday Sir Bache
Cunard's, Friday the Quorn again, and Saturday
Belvoir and Cottesmore alternately.

My old friend " H. S. D.," who had taken on
" Brooksby's " place in '84-'85, but who had found
the distances too great from his home in the Billesdon
country, asked me if I minded giving up Tuesday
and Thursday to him. This, with the Editor's
permission, I was very glad to be able to do, and
readers of the Field will remember his signature
under the heading of " High Leicestershire."

The hunting Editor of the Field was then Mr.
Walsh, and I have no hesitation in saying that he
was the best man for the post that the paper has
ever had. This is said in no disparagement of my
good friend, the present hunting Editor, who is an
excellent sportsman, and probably the best man to
be found for the job.

Mr. Walsh was, however, exceptionally bril-
liant, and possessed the knack of knowing exactly
what his readers wanted. In my humble opinion
the Field owes its success chiefly to him, and
also in no small degree to Capt. Pennell Elm-
hirst (" Brooksby"). When the latter first began
writing his articles, the style of the ordinary hunt-
ing correspondent and his methods of describing
a run were both feeble and uninteresting. " Brooks-
by " began a new era, which raised the form of
hunting correspondence on to a higher plane.
From the time when he started to write for the
Field, that paper rose rapidly in popular favour.

64 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

Although it embraces many other subjects and
phases of sport, hunting was ever its leading topic,
and hunting men have always been its strongest
supporters.

In the autumn of 1885 I began my duties as
hunting correspondent to the Field, and have
continued on without a break until hunting was
temporarily put on one side by the war.

My stiff and halting contributions must have
been poor reading after " Brooksby's " brilliant
articles, for he would always describe a moderate
day's sport in a manner to make it interesting.
However, it is always better to write in your own
moderate way than to try and copy the style of
another. With the Editor's permission I instituted
a radical change by omitting names of peopie at
the meet, and, in fact, of not mentioning anyone
— the custom has since become more or less general.

My predecessor had always headed his Field
letters with a list of those who were out, and was
exceptionally clever in adding colour to his narra-
tions by inserting names of those occupying good
positions in a run.

There are people who delight in seeing them-
selves in print, but I felt that to pander to such
petty desires was derogatory to the character of the
leading sporting weekly. I think we may leave
the personal paragraph to the " society rags,"
which we all in reality despise, even though we
read them. There were other reasons, also equally
good, which influenced me in making the decision,
and perhaps the soundest of all was that I did not
feel it was in me to treat personalities with " Brooks-
by's " delicate touch. Whenever possible, I con-

LORD MANNERS 65

sidered it my duty as well as pleasure to watch
what hounds were doing, and with a field of three
hundred, there is not much time to observe per-
formers and pack. Then if you are riding to right
or left — as you should be — well clear of hounds,
it is very easy to miss seeing someone on the opposite
side, and it is better to mention none rather than
to miss out someone equally well placed.

Mr. Jon Kks, in one of his sporting lectures, re-
marks that " the finest receipt for making men ride
is shaking a sporting hauthor afore them at startin'."
I don't think that is quite the right spirit to encour-
age, and if the desire to see hounds as well as a
natural wish to be first does not inspire to deeds of
daring, they had better be content to ride in the
ruck.

I look on the master and hunt servants as public
men, but the field being composed of private in-
dividuals, who go hunting for their own amuse-
ment, it seems rather like taking a liberty to put
their names in print. In the lecture aforementioned,
Jorrocks, pointing out the difference between Beck-
ford and a sporting writer he quotes, says the former
is for the pack and the latter for the performer. I
have tried to follow Peter's footsteps and en-
deavoured to record the doings of the pack.

Here, however, in these recollections of the
past I do not hesitate to make use of names — a
newspaper seems more public, and then a large
majority of those I mention have stepped off the
stage.

On Mr. Coupland's resignation the hounds were
bought by three of the largest supporters of the
Quorn for £3000. Firr's skill as a huntsman had
5

66 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

probably earned the hounds a reputation rather
beyond their merits. Although most people are of
a different opinion, I have always thought that a
new master should either take over the pack at a
valuation, or that they should be put up for auction
and he could then buy what he wanted. A pack of
hounds can be made or marred in six years, so that
though a master may take over a lot that are both
good in looks and work, those he hands over on
retiring may be useless for hunting and worthless
on the flags.

Perhaps I ought to modify this statement that
a pack can be altogether ruined in that period,
because if the original blood is good the former ex-
cellence may be retrieved by judicious breeding.
Unfortunately, it is the general rule for the retiring
masters to hand over only the same number of
hounds that he took in, quite irrespective of their
breeding, so that it is possible in buying in drafts
to have a pack that has none of the original blood
in its composition. Of course, the same argument
applies to a very moderate pack, which a good
huntsman can convert into one of great excellence,
and it is only fair he should reap the benefit of his
improvement.

The purchase of Mr. Coupland's pack was done
in the interests of the Quorn Hunt, and the intention
was good, but whether it was a wise proceeding is
another matter. There was some very good hunting
blood in the pack then, and Quorn Alfred was a
name that always stood for working qualities in a
pedigree. At that time there were " lemon-pied "
and " badger-pied " hounds in the kennel, colours
you might be certain of seeing at the head of affairs

LORD MANNERS 67

while scent was bad or with a sinking fox. The
craze for Belvoir tan was then beginning, and
masters as well as hunstmen, who were bitten with
the colour mania, were ready to sacrifice blood that
had proved its worth in the field merely for the
sake of pleasing the eye. I had such a profound
admiration for Tom Firr that I hesitate to admit
that he could have fallen a victim to the fashion
for colour, but it appeared to me that the working
qualities of the pack steadily degenerated after
about 1890.

From what I can remember of it, the season
'84-85 was not very good, but there were occasional
bright spots, though few and far between.

There were many pleasant days I can recall in
the season '84-'85, although it was not considered
good on the whole. Each of the three packs had
their share of what sport there was, but frost inter-
fered on several occasions, and for a fortnight in
March the ground was covered with a foot of snow.

Amongst many other good men to hounds at
that time I seem to see Messrs. Edmund Leatham,
Alfred Brocklehurst, and " Buck " Barclay always
in the first flight. Mr. Leatham was one of the
hardest and most determined men across a country
I ever saw — a great heart and a beautiful seat, but
rather heavy hands.

If I remember aright, the two latter men had by
this time joined the order of Benedicts, and had left
the " Bell " for hunting-boxes in the neighbourhood.
Marriage did not, however, quell their ardour for
the chase, and when hounds ran fast, you might be
quite certain of finding them amidst the select few.

The Rector of Waltham, known familiarly as

68 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

" Parson Seabrook," hunted pretty regularly with
all three packs, though his living was in the Belvoir
country. I have had many a good ride with him,
but never the privilege of hearing him in the pulpit,
where I was told he was very good.

In the hunting field he was a man of few words,
though those few always to the point. I have prob-
ably already mentioned him, as he was a prominent
figure in my first few seasons, and was holding his
own five-and-twenty years later. He rode his own
horse in the Grand National under the name of
" Mr. C. Brook," but I can't at this moment re-
member the year, though I believe it was before he
came to Leicestershire, and about 1879. In his
prime he was a very powerful man on a horse, and
could squeeze unwilling performers into negotiating
obstacles that few other men could have got them
to look at. His hands were not too delicate, but he
made up for that deficiency by the strength of his
muscles, and he would frequently buy a hard-pulling
brute that few others wanted to ride. If anyone
reads these lines who hunted from Melton in those
days, they will remember the grey he rode for
several seasons.

The dear old Parson was the cheeriest of com-
rades to ride a run with, in spite of the infliction of
jealousy ; but you had always to remember he was
out to beat you, and he hated anyone to get in front
of him. With two couple of hounds on the line, he
always considered the flag had dropped, and unless
restrained by the master, away he would go in hot
pursuit. Another little weakness of his was to
imagine that hounds were on ahead of those that
could be seen, and at the same time to persuade

LORD MANNERS 69

the huntsman to beHeve such was the fact. I do not
think he ever tried this on with Firr, but that
huntsman could start away with a few couple with
perfect confidence that the remainder of the pack
would thread the horses and be with him in less
time than most packs take in getting out of covert.
I cannot remember now when it was the Duke of
Portland first came to Melton, but think it was
about 1881. However, he was still a regular visitor
to the town in 1885, and it must have been about
then his half-brothers, Lord Henry and Lord WilUam
Bentinck, first appeared. The elder brother had
the misfortune to be a heavy weight, and had
therefore that difficulty of getting horses to carry
him which all such men have to contend with, even
when there is practically no limit to the purse. No
one, I think, enjoyed his sport more, and I have
been surprised that he never revisited the scenes
which I feel sure he will look back upon as some of
the j oiliest in his youth.

Lord Manners, when he took the Quorn, was a
very good man to hounds, and being a light weight,
could ride blood horses. If he will forgive my
saying so, I don't think he was ever what you call
a " hound man," but was very keen on the sport,
and was content to leave that part entirely to Firr.
Financial embarrassments in the previous master-
ship, as I have already said, raised up rather strained
relations with some occupiers of land, which re-
quired a liberal hand and considerable tact to re-
move. Lord Manners was most successful in pouring
oil on troubled waters, and on his resignation after
about two seasons he had gained every one's good-
will, and the country was sorry to lose him. For

70 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

a man who does not make a business of steeple-
chasing, and who only sports silk occasionally to
ride in hunt races, to have placed his name on the
roll of those who have won the Grand National is a
great feat.

Known to his own intimates as " Hoppy," Lord
Manners was an exceptionally quiet man, and
probably his greatest friends never credited him
with the ability to win over the Aintree course. I
do not suppose that a bad rider has ever won or
ever will win that race, but I never considered him
quite in the first class as a horseman, and rather
strange to say, though a very Hght weight his
" hands " were not good.

I was not at Liverpool that year, but have had
the story told me many times. It was a pouring
wet day, and as every one knows in a steeplechase
under those conditions, a pair of woollen gloves are
almost a necessity to get a firm grip on slippery reins.
The owner and rider of Seaman had no thought of
this, but a friend had grasped the situation, and
insisted on lending a pair. This friend happened
to be well over six feet four, and the gloves must
have been many sizes too big, but they answered
the purpose, and doubtless were an important factor
in the ultimate success.

Leicestershire is always strongly represented at
Liverpool, and Lord Manners' many hunting friends
were there to wish him luck, though I think very
few expected to see him win. Needless to say they
were very enthusiastic over the result, and showered
congratulations on the mud-bespattered hero. Every
one was both excited and elated. I was told the
only cool person there was the man who had come

LORD MANNERS 71

through that severe ordeal of four miles and a half
in triumph.

This happened several years ago, and the story
of how Lord Manners bought the horse only a short
time before the race, will perhaps be new to the
present generation.

Seaman was in a well-known Irish stable which
had trained several Liverpool winners, and what
they did not know about the business was not worth
knowing. The horse was supposed to have had a
very fair chance when he was sound, but he had
developed a " leg " in training, and was almost
broken down. Under these circumstances his clever
owners considered he would never " get the course,"
and were probably very glad to accept Lord Manners'
two thousand for him, particularly as they had
another horse in the stable almost equally good, and
with the advantage of four sound legs, with an ex-
perienced jockey to ride him. A cool head and good
nerves, backed by a strong determination, make,
however, a very good substitute for that experience
which can only be acquired by frequent riding.

An occasion in a race at the Melton Hunt meet-
ing recurs to me, when Capt. " Doggie " Smith was
caught by Lord Manners and just beaten on the post.
I may be wrong, but always thought that his offer
to take the Quorn was not from any desire to
become a " M.F.H.," and was only because the
country at the moment required a helping hand.
The previous mastership had provided extraordinary
good sport, and had been favoured with a succes-
sion of seasons that had few really bad scenting days.
Scent is a problem that no one has yet satisfactorily
solved, and the greater the experience the more

72 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

difficult it appears, but there is no doubt Leicester-
shire gives better results when very wet.

Lord Manners came into office at the beginning
of the dry time, and scent was very moderate during
his first season, with only a slight improvement in the
second. Some people may think that the showing
of sport should be a master's chief consideration,
but to my mind his first duty is to preserve har-
monious relations between those who hunt and the
occupiers of land.

Although this ('84-'85) was considered very
moderate, I come to the conclusion, after going
through my old Field accounts, that it was much
better than many we have had of later years. No-
vember was a particularly good scenting month,
and there were some first-class runs. On the 6th
of that month the Quorn had an exceptionally nice
run in the afternoon from Barkby Holt over an
ideal bit of country, but not very straight. About
five-and-forty minutes, beginning not too well,
but the pace increasing at every field and hounds
running into their fox at the finish. The following
day the Cottesmore had a brilliant twenty-five
minutes from the Long Spinney, going through
Burbidge's, skirting Melton, and killing near the
railway short of Sanham.

I have a vivid recollection of the next Monday
with the Quorn, and as I recall various incidents
of the run, I begin to wonder if the foxhound of
to-day has the working and scenting qualities of
his ancestors. On this occasion I remember being
filled with admiration at the hounds' performance.
In the earlier part of the run they raced along with
the dash and drive for which they were celebrated,

LORD MANNERS 73

but later on, with a failing scent and a beaten fox,
they puzzled out the line until they ran him from
scent to view. He was also an extraordinary stout
old fox, though not very straight-necked, and a
weaker member would have probably succumbed
after the first twenty-five minutes.

Those initial minutes were, I remember, great
fun, as after finding in Ragdale Wood and running
through the gorse, we crossed the Fosse, swung
left-handed and raced down the valley to Seagrave.
Here the fox had hoped to find an open drain, but
being disappointed turned back to his starting-
point, and by some clever dodging managed to get
well ahead of the pack. They, however, worked up
to him and were on good terms again at Ragdale
village, but he succeeded in giving them the slip,
and made his last effort in the Hoby Vale.

It was not a really good scenting day, and the
smell of a fox grows less as his strength weakens,
so that hounds had to put their noses down and
work hard ; but they were ably assisted by their
huntsman, and the final triumph was due to the
combination — that mutual trust and confidence
which always existed between Firr and his pack.

This was only one of many instances of the great
huntsman's skill, patience and perseverance.

In later days I have heard men who had not
enjoyed the privilege of hunting with Firr remark,
" Of course he never stopped to hunt a fox, but
directly hounds threw up their heads, galloped
on to the nearest covert," and they will also inno-
cently inquire : " Isn't it true that more than half
the good gallops of the Quorn were after Firr and
not after a fox ? " These slanders have probably

74 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

originated from men who had an occasional day
with the Quorn, and were either too badly mounted
or had not the ability to ride in the front rank.
They would then return to their provincial packs,
and speak in an authoritative voice of what they
had never been in a position to see. Jealousy
would seize eagerly on such baseless information,
and use it in the endeavour to belittle the art of
an acknowledged master of his craft. I think
the silly idea that a run with the Quorn was fre-
quently only a gallop after Firr, must have had its
birth in one of his marvellous casts.

If a fox had evidently got a long way ahead,
and with a moderate scent there appeared every
likelihood of the gap growing wider, he would catch
hold of the pack and make a forward cast of
perhaps half a mile to a mile. In making these
casts he would ride straight across country to the
point he expected to get on terms with his fox again,
and it was very seldom that he did not succeed in
hitting off the line. I can imagine the visitor and
what he would say on seeing Firr with his pack
behind him, sailing over a succession of big fences.

It may perhaps have been quite true that on
these occasions the bulk of the field and those who
are content to ride across country with only the
back of the man in front to guide them, never
realized that hounds were not running.

When, however, a fox had been hustled suffici-
ently to make it reasonable to expect he would be
getting tired, Firr would never willingly relinquish
pursuit, and would bring him to hand in the end.

The art of a huntsman is in knowing when to
lift hounds and when to let them hunt. You may

LORD MANNERS 75

be quite sure that a pack which won't bear being
Ufted has no confidence in its huntsman.

The trust and sympathy which his pack had for
Firr was plain to be seen ; they knew they would not
be deceived, and if he helped them, it would be
help in the right direction.

A hound is a reasoning animal, which added to
intuition or instinct enables him to gauge fairly
accurately the capabilities of the man who pre-
sumes to assist him in hunting.

Anyone with a love for animals, and who also
takes the trouble to make their acquaintance, can
gain the affection of a pack of hounds, but it does
not in the least follow that they will allow their love
to blind them to his defects in the field.

I seem to be meandering from my text, which
was a summary of Lord Manners' second and last
season, but the subject of Tom Firr always works
up the old enthusiasm and admiration I felt for the
man when hunting with him. Having begun I
may as well continue, although he carried the horn
for many seasons afterwards. He was very quick,
but never in a hurry. Very quiet, but had a beauti-
ful voice, and his cheer would always put new life
into a pack. In provincial countries where there
is no crowd, you can perhaps afford to stand outside
a covert and blow your horn until nearly all the
pack are out, but in the Shires you must get after
your fox as quickly as possible. My own opinion
is that unless hounds are running another fox, they
ought to be out of covert as quickly as the huntsman
and should therefore never be waited for. A hound
hates to be left behind.

Tom Firr always kept in touch with his pack

76 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

whilst in covert, and to see them flying out in reply
to his cheer was a sight not to be forgotten when
once seen. He never looked back, but galloped on
blowing his horn, and though he might have started
with only one or two couple, every hound would
be there before they were out of the first field.
Perhaps it may have been in their anxiety not to be
left behind that made the Quorn rather weak in the
matter of drawing — it was the one bad point.
Every huntsman has his own idea or feeling as to
what quarter of a covert a fox is likely to be in, and
the feeling is frequently influenced by previous
experience in that covert ; hounds will be inclined
to search more diligently where they have pre-
viously found, and neglect a part where they have
never met with success.

In the short winter days you cannot afford to
waste time in drawing unlikely spots, and Firr was
doubtless right in trying where he had found before,
which, when blank, he would leave quickly to try
elsewhere.

The finding of a fox always interested me, and
if I saw that Firr had missed a spot which in my
mind was likely, I frequently tried it myself. My
success on these occasions was probably due to
having studied the habits of the fox. I hardly ever
remember finding in a covert after the Belvoir had
drawn it. I recall one occasion with the Quorn
when, had it not been for my officious interference,
we should have missed a very good gallop.

It was a bright, sunny afternoon towards the
end of March, and with only moderate sport in the
morning the order was given for Burrough Hill Wood
as a last chance. This covert has changed its appear-

LORD MANNERS 77

ance since then very considerably, the old trees on
the hill above have been cut down and others planted
below. At that time the new addition was in two
stages of growth, one having been planted about
five years, and the other only the previous autumn.

There was good covert in the wood above, and
we had always found there, so that Firr confined
his attentions to the thick covert above and left the
lower part alone. Foxes are very fond of lying in
the sun, and will often not move if they think they
will not be observed. The young larch were barely
three feet high, but the ground had been taken from
an arable field, and there was good lying on the dry
twitch grass. Firr had aready blown hounds out
of covert, when it seemed to me he had missed the
most likely spot, and I rode in to search amongst
the young trees. A fox was there sure enough, and
gave us a most enjoyable gallop before killing him
at Owston Wood.

This is, however, getting ahead too fast, and we
have not yet finished with Lord Manners' master-
ship. On 2ist November the Cottesmore had
another good run from the Long Spinney, and
scored a seven-mile point, but on this occasion
failed to catch their fox. They lost him eventually
at Wartnaby, in the Quorn country, after running
through a large slice of the Belvoir. It was a very
unusual line, and I remember uncomfortably stiff,
but the pace was very good for the first thirty
minutes, and it takes an exceptionally awkward
obstacle to stop a Leicestershire field when hounds
are running fast.

That bit of country between Thorpe Arnold and
Melton was, in those days, fenced with " Oxers," a

78 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

type of fence that wants a bold and resolute horse
to negotiate, with the same qualities in his rider.

The Cottesmore Saturday on the Melton side was
as popular then as it is now, and always attracted
a large crowd. For some reason the ladies favoured
this day, and you could be certain of seeing them
in greater numbers than at any other fixture of the
week. Perhaps there may have been a little rivalry
between the fair supporters of the three different
hunts. Every one on that particular day was bent
on getting as close to hounds as they could (men and
women alike, but I recall seeing Mr. " Granny "
Farquhar frequently at the head of affairs, and
sailing over the Melton Brook), He in those days
hailed from the Cottesmore side, and though a
fairly regular attendant on the Quorn Fridays, was
seldom seen with the Belvoir.

No one enjoyed a ride more, and his beaming
smile at the close of a fast burst in which he had
participated did one good to see. I don't know
that I ever saw anyone get hotter, when the hounds
ran, and the man who does not get hot under those
circumstances is either not keen, or has something
wrong with him.

Whilst we are talking about the Cottesmore I
should mention that Mr. W. Baird was then master
and Neal huntsman. A very excellent master he
was, and I regret to say that he has died lately.
He was very quiet with his field, and for that
reason when he did speak his order was immediately
obeyed.

If he saw a gateway to which the over-eager
and impetuous crowd were surging with the pack
evidently about to throw up in the field beyond.

LORD MANNERS 79

he would block the exit with his horse and remain
there sphinxUke until the situation was clear again.

I hardly think he cared much about competing
with the hard riding crew in a fast burst, but he
was a fine horseman and ready to jump a big fence
when necessary.

Perhaps what he enjoyed most was to act as
his own second whip, and by riding forward get a
view of a beaten fox. His brother, Mr. Ned Baird
— he may be a general now — was a first-class man
to hounds, a good rider, with nice hands. He was
one of the select few you could always be sure of
seeing in the first flight, and at that time was a
regular attendant at the meets in the Melton circle.
Leicestershire has not seen him for some years, and
I presume he has forsaken the hunting field.

November appears to have been about the best
month of the season, and then sport shut down for
a time, but the Quorn had a very fast gallop from
King's Gorse on 21st December.

Referring to my Field letter, which brings
back the scene as it was, I read, " Dig your spurs
in and hustle along if you want to see any of the
fun. There is a ravishing scent, and the Quorn
bitches are racing. Four or five smooth fields are
skimmed over, and the half-dozen who get the best
start jump into the road at Willoughby. A score
or so of good men are flitting along in the wake of
the pack. A bend to the right, and unless you are
quick over the next fence you will lose your place.
Monsieur is darting in and out of the small enclosures
like a will-o'-the-wisp, whilst a well-known man
between the flags is cutting out the work on a
grey."

80 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

The first of these was Mr. Emile Deschamps,
who had been a regular visitor to Melton a few
years earher and was a good man across Leicester-
shire, being also desperately keen. He must have
spent a small fortune in silk hats, as whenever
hounds ran fast you might be sure of seeing him
bare-headed. I remember an old flea-bitten grey
named "Bob Ridley" that carried him well in
many good hunts. I believe this gallop was the
last occasion he appeared in Leicestershire, but
have no idea whether he is still alive.

The steeplechase rider was Mr. Charlie Cunning-
ham, one of the hardest men and cheeriest of com-
rades to ride a hunt with. He was very strong and
resolute, but with rather heavy hands, which, how-
ever, he usually neutraHzed by riding with a snaffle.
His strength and determination probably won
him many chases, although when he first began
to ride between the flags report said he caused
amusement to the crowd. This, however, does
him all the more credit, for it is very seldom that a
man who has previously done Httle riding can take
up the steeplechase game when past his first youth
and become proficient at it.

I regret to say he is another of the good men
who have " gone West " and without attaining his
highest ambition, which was to win the Grand
National. My memory is very bad, but I think he
was second on " Why not ? "

The last day of November — having given an
account of a gallop in December it will be said I
am " running heel " — the Quorn had a most enjoy-
able burst in their Monday country. Here is an
extract from my account to the Field :

LORD MANNERS 81

" Run number two, though short and ringing,
was a very brilHant burst. Thirty minutes and a
kill in the open afford sufficient eulogy and requires
no further comment. The field had become scattered
at the close of the first run — second horses, coffee-
housing, and loitering, each occupying some atten-
tion. So that when Firr proceeded to draw Grim-
stone Gorse there was only a small mustering in the
ride. The fox was soon away through Saxelby
Wood and pointing for Wartnaby.

" If you are in the cover at starting you will

have to gallop your hardest or be left a long way

in the rear. Fortune favours you if you bear

slightly to the right ; the pack hesitate for a second,

then swing down across your front. A post-and-rail

fence stretches across the field, but it is low, and a

score of horses clear or rap it in as many different

places. A gap in the corner is the only possible

exit from this field in the right direction, so there

is nothing for it but to wait your turn in patience.

The next obstacle is the well-known bottom which

runs down the valley from Wartnaby. There is a

bridge on the left, but to scramble through in the

wake of hounds is feasible — both take about the

same time. The pack reach the Asfordby Road

by themselves and for a moment dwell there. A

man with his hat up catches Firr's eye down to

the right, and hounds are going again faster than

ever. Over the tunnel and flashing by Saxelby

village they race along the tree-belted brook for the

Shoby Lane. Some turnip pullers have turned the

fox a yard or two from his course, but the pack

don't waver an instant, doubling short up the

hedgerow as their quarry doubled and then chasing

6

82 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

across the open again for Shoby village. Another
second or two and fox and hounds are rolling and
tumbling together in the ditch by the roadside.

" To run a fox to death in thirty minutes is a
creditable performance, but particularly so in this
case when there was only half a good scent. Mr.
Simpkin, junior, on his grey pony was, as usual,
well to the fore throughout ; it is difficult to say
which is the most wonderful — the pony or the
rider."

The Belvoir were out of luck in the earlier part
of the season, but they commenced getting their
fair share of sport after the January frost and snow.
On Wednesday, 17th February, they had a brilHant
burst from Coston covert to Woodwell Head, where
the fox managed to slip away unseen, and the run
faded out at Saxby. Then they went on to draw
Newman's Gorse, found and ran very fast to Goadby
by Bullamore, from whence it was slow hunting to
Harby Hills. Here most of the field were hopelessly
left as the pack slipped down into the vale and raced
away at top speed with only about half a dozen
men in attendance. The canal between Hose and
Harby was too much for a tired fox, and he
turned back for the hills, to be eventually killed
near Eastwell.

The following Saturday the same pack had a
still better day. Fifty sterling minutes in the best
of the vale with hounds racing, and it takes a good
horse to live with the Belvoir when there is a scent.
It was certainly only a ring, but it was over a perfect
line, and if we had not landed back at Holwell
Mouth with its unmistakable features, the majority
would never have realized it was a circle. Here is

LORD MANNERS 83

a cutting from my Field article of the first twenty
minutes :

" Belvoir in luck again ! Wednesday was a
good day's sport, but Saturday was better. Fifty
merry minutes in the vale, a lovely country and a
rattling scent. The maddening music, as it rose
and fell from the throats of the descendants of
Rockwood, Fallible, & Co., is still ringing in my ears,
and I hasten to jot down first impressions ere the
blood cools.

" Imagine yourself, reader, perched on the hill
that commands the cover known as Holwell
Mouth, your luncheon consumed, your second horse
mounted, and you, ' full of beans and benevolence '
for the world at large. A single hound gives the
note that proclaims a find, followed very soon by a
chorus from the pack. One turn round the cover,
and the fox breaks away in view ; hounds are out
on his line in a twinkling, and dashing up the steep
hillside.

" Now then, reader, if you wish to see the fun
you must hustle through the first gate or two and
gallop your hardest. Check not your steed as you
reach Clawson Thorns, for the pack touch not the
cover, but are racing like distraction up the narrow
ride and out beyond. A short turn on the hill,
and then down we go into the vale. The village of
Long Clawson is in front, but a bend to the right
leaves it a quarter of a mile on our left. The vale
par excellence is now before us ; good sound grass,
bounded by fair leapable fences that may be taken
anywhere and everywhere. The pack are ' streak-
ing it ' across the level like pigeons, and two hundred
horsemen are thundering in their wake. Already

84 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

grief is general ; loose horses are careering every-
where, and the cracking of timber is heard on all
sides. A field of plough, over which hounds skim
and horses flounder, is quickly left behind, and then
we turn to the left and gallop down the road for
Hose. Skirting the village the pace increases, the
fun becoming fast and furious. In and out of a lane,
some quick, recurring fences and an ugly bottom
bars the way. One division is wide on the right,
and hit the bottom, where a friendly bridge solves
the difficulty. A hatless horseman is to be seen
with a clear lead of his followers, cutting out the
work in the rear of the pack, and an army of * top-
sawyers ' come crashing on behind him. Hold hard,
gentlemen 1 Hounds are at fault, and here we are
at Hose Gorse twenty minutes from the find."

Gillard was, of course, at that time huntsman to
the Belvoir, and continued to carry the horn for
another twelve seasons. RecalHng this run to
memory brings back to me Gillard's reply to my
remark whilst I was ridingj alongside of him, '* A
good enough scent to-day, Frank." His answer was,
" Oh, not too good, but the Belvoir hounds make
their scent," which meant they had the nose and
drive to make the most of what scent there was.
This was rather characteristic of the man, for he
loved his pack, and had a great belief in them. I
do not think any man ever worked harder or lived
a more strenuous life, for at that period he was
hunting hounds five and six days, had the whole
kennel management in his hands, and in addition
was doing work usually performed by a hunt
secretary. Sometimes he had very long distances
to ride home, but however late he might be, he

LORD MANNERS 85

always wrote the Duke an account of the day's
proceedings.

Every master and huntsman in England con-
sidered it a duty as well as a pleasure to visit the
Bel voir kennels, but no one ever arrived there
except to find hounds and kennels in first-rate
order.

Gillard never spared himself, and though he was
always considerate of the men under him, they had
plenty of work to get through before they went to
bed. As a huntsman he could not, of course, com-
pare with Tom Firr, but I have never yet seen
anyone who could. Still, I had many happy days
with him, and have seen him hunt a fox very skil-
fully, more particularly in the late afternoon.

In those days the Belvoir — I am speaking of the
Melton side — had what I consider a very bad prac-
tice. Every small covert had an artificial earth
which was never " stopped " on hunting days, with
the result that foxes almost invariably ran frdm
one covert to another. This fact was probably
responsible for the habit Gillard acquired of casting
to a covert, when, if it was unsuccessful in hitting
the line of his own fox, he was fairly sure of finding
another in the earth.

When I say the earths were not " stopped,"
that, of course, means overnight, but they would be
" put to " in the morning, so that any foxes using
them would be underground. It is perhaps a
custom that ensures a find, but it is not productive
of real sport.

I have delved more than I intended into my
Field contributions to show that this season had a
very fair average of good runs, and, to continue,

86 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

find the last fortnight showed capital sport for
all three packs.

On 3rd April the Belvoir had a very good run
from Sherbrook's covert to Lodge-on-the-Wolds,
portions of which were very fast. Then on Friday
the 9th, the Quorn had a first-class run from Scrap-
toft Gorse, and killed their fox close to South Croxton
village. For some unexplainable reason I can
recall every incident of that day in spite of the
lapse of time, and can see now the big yellow fox
as he went away in the direction of Houghton.
It was near that village hounds commenced to run
fast, and then after pointing for the Coplow they
swung round by Carver's Spinney and raced down
the valley under Ingarsby. Soon after passing
this place they turned sharp to the right to cross
the railway, and at that moment up came a train.
The engine-driver promptly applied his brakes, and
what looked like a certain disaster was happily
averted, but it was a very near thing. In my
account after this escape I read, " Garnet's dark
sides are to be seen leading up the furrow in the
big grass field rising from the brook to the Coplow-
Keyham road." I recall that bitch Garnet, and
remember to have frequently seen her at the head of
affairs. She was a very dark-coloured hound, and,
when going fast, her ears had a way of flapping up
and down. The farthest point in the run was
Oueniborough from whence the fox turned back to
meet his death.

I beUeve this day was the last occasion that
my old friend Mr. Edward Frewen of Cold Overton
appeared in the hunting field, and he lent his horse
to Firr to finish the run. The ground was very

LORD MANNERS 87

deep that day, and any horse that had carried its
owner near hounds was pretty well beat.

The Cottesmore finished the season on loth
April with two very fast gallops, fifteen minutes
from Wild's Lodge to Burbidge's, and twenty
minutes from Berry's Gorse to Cold Overton.

CHAPTER V I
CAPTAIN WARNER

Season i 886-1887

I LOOK back on this Mastership as being the
period I enjoyed most, although I have had
many happy days before and since.
Perhaps it was that the joy of youth was then
at Its zenith, and to get on the right side of a fence
was more important than the chances of a fall. I
can remember we had some rattling good gallops
during the cub-hunting of that season in spite of
summer-like weather.

On 2nd October the Cottesmore met at a very
early hour to rattle up the cubs in Ranksboro Gorse,
but for some reason they were not to be found.
A litter was supposed to be at Knossington, but
only an old fox was discovered and hounds were
stopped from him near Pickwell. It was then about
12 o'clock, and with a hot sun the chances of doing
anything seemed very remote ; but after Mr. Frewen
had given the hunt officials refreshment, every one
appeared to become more cheerful, and as a litter
had been bred in the earth near America Spinney,
it was worth going there on the way back to
kennels.

The master was not out, and the decision therefore
lay with the huntsman, Neal. What the liquor

CAPTAIN WARNER 89

was that the butler handed round I have no idea,
but it appeared to put new Hfe into poor old
Neal, who had probably breakfasted about four
o'clock.

Until that day I did not even know the Spinney
was called America, and it is only a very little place,
but being far away from roads it does not get dis-
turbed. I do not think we were more than half a
dozen, Including hunt servants, but the irresponsible
portion, of course, hoped for a gallop. If the cubs
had been there as they ought to have been, good
work would have been done, and probably one or
two killed, but there was only an old fox. The
spinney is on the banks of a stream, which further
on helps to form the noted Whissendine, and the
fox elected to leave on the opposite side to the
whip, so that he had no chance of stopping hounds ;
he did his best, but he was never within a field of
them until the run was over. It was one of the best
and fastest gallops I ever remember. Hounds were
racing for five-and-twenty minutes without the
semblance of a check. What fun it was ! The fox
followed the stream nearly to Whissendine, and
then swung up to the left. The leaf was still on,
and I have a vivid recollection of many hairy
obstacles at the back of Noel Arms before recrossing
the turnpike, but there was no time to pick and
choose your place.

At the end of twenty-five minutes we found
ourselves at the Punchbowl, and unluckily with
several foxes afoot.

Fortunately for me my horse was very fit from
having spent his summer in drawing a grass-cutter.
He was one that Mr. " Buck " Barclay gave me,

90 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

and this was the first occasion I had ridden him in
a gallop.

On i8th October the Quorn had a most enjoy-
able scurry from Baggrave to Hungarton by way
of Carr Bridge, and the whole distance was accom-
plished in thirteen minutes.

The 25th of the month the same pack met
at Gaddesby Hall, when, except for the absence
of scarlet, it might have been a meet of the regular
season. The trees and hedges were also still in
their summer dress. I remember that morning
thirty-three years ago as well as if it was yesterday.
The morning was bright and pleasant, with just a
touch of east in the wind. Every one was in the
best of spirits and full of cheery good humour.

We found our fox in Mr. Cheney's Long Spinney,
and for thirty golden minutes were racing over one
of the stiff est lines in Leicestershire. It is a bit of
country in which even when hedges are bare you
must be in the same field with the hounds to see
them, but with everything still in leaf, if you lose
sight of the pack, you may never see them again.
It was really a large field for October, and I think
all enjoyed that gallop, but only a very small
minority saw a hound from find to finish. The
gallop was crammed full of excitement, incidents
and fences. After all it was only a ring, and at
the end of the thirty minutes we were back at
the starting-point ; but the delirious joy of riding
to hounds when they run fast is not to be measured
by the hand of time or gauged by the distance
covered. On this occasion there were several
Americans out, who had come to Melton for the
season, and they were the forerunners of many

CAPTAIN WARNER 91

welcome visitors from the same country. The
Belvoir also in that same week had an excellent
run from Sproxton Thorns. The fox was such a
long time in leaving covert that every one made
sure it was a cub, and after being well hustled it
did not seem likely he could last long in the open.
The result was several men rather took liberties
with their horses and had to be content with a
position in the rear before the end of forty-five
minutes, when hounds killed. Saltby church. Buck-
minster Park and the finish at Coston does not spell
out a very good line, but the beginning and the end
was over as nice a country as the most fastidious
could desire.

The cub-hunting season should always be looked
upon as a time when the master's only considera-
tion is the making of his hounds and the visiting of
his coverts. We, the onlookers, are only there on
sufferance, and these rehearsals are not for our
amusement ; but we can't be blamed if a run does
come off occasionally, and, of course, enjoy it all
the more for being unexpected.

There were some very cheery mornings that
October, and I should like to see a repetition of
those gallops ; but suppose age might prevent me
participating in them with quite the same spirit as
of yore.

I had almost forgotten the last day's cubbing
with the Quorn, which contained a really first-class
run. An excellent country to ride over, hounds
running fast with hardly a check, and a seven-mile
point, are features that give character to a hunt
at any period of the season.

The usual business-like morning, a litter roused,

92 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

a cub killed, and others hunted in small circles,
did not appeal to those who wanted a gallop, but
the master elected to try Walton Thorns on the
way to kennels. The litter here had been hunted
on a previous occasion, and the fox we found this
time I feel sure was a cub ; but two or three fields
away is Cradock's Ashes, and it was there I believe
we changed on to an old fox. Up to that point
hounds had run as if there was little scent, but
they quickly changed their tune then, so much
so that they were into Mundy's Gorse before the
majority of the field knew they had gone.

A bend to the right gave those who were quick
a chance of making up leeway, and then for fifteen
minutes we were galloping best pace over an ideal
country.

The remainder of the run was by no means slow,
the pack occasionally having to put their heads
down and then driving on again ; but they were
never at fault for long, and horses had all they
could do to keep with them. He must have been an
exceptionally bold fox, as he never condescended
to enter a covert until, too weary to go farther, he
turned aside and found refuge in the main earth
at Welby Osierbeds, but I firmly believe that
Melton Spinney was his point. From Walton
Thorns to the plantation belt south of Ab-Kettleby,
known locally as the Cat's Tail, the line was nearly
straight, the only deviation being to avoid Lord
Aylesford's and Grimstone Gorse. Such a good
fox every one said deserved to live, and doubtless
they were right, but I fear my sympathies were
with hounds, and they certainly deserved their fox.

In looking over my account of the run I come

CAPTAIN WARNER 93

across this sentence. " A momentary check below
Wartnaby collected the scattered field, but Old
Dorcas' feathery stern was seen disappearing up
the opposite hedgeside, and the rest of the pack
were soon with her." I remember that old bitch
well, and she helped Firr kill many a fox. She was
one of the light-coloured sort that the craze for
Belvoir tan has almost made extinct, but in those
days there were several of the colour in the Quorn
kennel, and they always showed up when scent
was bad. I imagine the crowd at Peterborough
Hound Show would be shocked if any pack were
bold enough to show a light-coloured hound now,
but the Quorn " Dreamer " won the cup (1888),
and he was that colour.

I walked " Dreamer " myself, but never quite
liked him or his sire the Rufford *' Galliard," in
spite of the fact that he was out of " Dorcas." If
my memory is not at fault both Gillard and Firr
used the Rufford " Galliard," being attracted by
beautiful legs and feet with great bone, but I fancy
neither were pleased with the results.

Kirby Gate, the Quorn opening meet, does not
appear to have been productive of much sport, but
the Belvoir had a very fast gallop on the following
Wednesday. It was, I remember, a typical Belvoir
burst, hounds racing, a few happy men near them,
and the rest of the field struggling to overcome the
disadvantages of a slow beginning.

Referring to my account, I read, " Count and
Cornet are striving for the lead, and are cutting out
the work for the rest." The former was Count
Zbrowski, and the latter Capt. F. Forester — not a
captain then — who has lately resigned the Quorn

94 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

Mastership. This was, of course, before he had the
accident to his leg, which affected his grip of the
saddle, and he was very hard to beat across country.
I hear he was going as well as ever last season,
hunting hounds himself and always with them.
Yet it is over thirty years since that day from
Sproxton Thorns with the Belvoir.

I cannot remember now the exact year Count
Zbrowski came to Melton, or how many seasons
he was there before migrating to the Atherstone
country, but can recall his face and figure in many
good hunts during the next five years. His hunting
education had been begun in America amid the
stiff timber of Long Island, where the drag plays
a prominent part. With all due apologies to my
many friends across the water, I must here say that
they begin the education of the fox-hunter from the
wrong standpoint. The fence and the getting over
it appears to come first, whereas they should only
be looked upon as affording additional pleasure and
excitement to following hounds.

Count Zbrowski in this school acquired the
knowledge and ability to cross a country which with
his naturally fine hands enabled him to find his
way across Leicestershire. It was not known until
he had gained considerable experience in the neigh-
bourhood of Melton that he developed the habit of
watching the hounds, and now let me say that no
one can become a really first-class man without
keeping his eye on the pack. Without providing
anything sensational, November was a month of
consistent good sport, and scent improved towards
the end. There was one day when the Quorn hounds
had a ring in the Hoby Vale practically to them-

CAPTAIN WARNER 95

selves, that is, no horseman was within a field of
them ; and there in the same week the Belvoir had
a very fast gallop from Piper Hole Gorse.

It was an afternoon run, and I remember when
the covert was drawn only an hour's daylight re-
mained. The morning crowd had gone home to
tea, and there were scarcely a score left, but I re-
member one lady, who, if my memory does not
deceive me, was Lady Gerard — " Mrs." then.

How we shivered on that hilltop and wondered
if we had been wise to remain, with perhaps a linger-
ing lament for the poached eggs and buttered toast.
" Gone away " dispelled the gloom in an instant,
and the shivering onlookers were converted next
minute into glowing performers.

For five-and-twenty minutes we were galloping
over the vale, with the pack racing on and horses
striving to keep them in sight.

The inevitable result of drawing late is that
you have to stop hounds when they might kill
their fox, and this is what happened that evening ;
but it was a hot and happy little band of sportsmen
who rode back to Melton in the dark. Most of them
are, I expect, dead by now, but if any are still alive
they will easily recall that gallop. It is such a long
time ago that I can't say now who they were, but
Lord Henry Bentinck was one of the party, and he
is still flourishing, though nowadays he appears to
prefer a seat at Westminster to one in the saddle.

These memoirs will not contain the name of any
lady who is still alive, but I shall reserve the right
of mentioning those who are not now competitors
on the stage of life. There are any number of
women whom I have had the pleasure of seeing ride

96 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

brilliantly across Leicestershire, and many of them
first-rate riders, but very few who could keep their
eyes on hounds and at the same time take their own
line.

The only two I can think of at the moment are
the Duchess of Hamilton and Mrs. Bunbury.
Lady Gerard, although not attempting to cut out
the work, was a very fine horse-woman and excep-
tionally keen. About this period I can recall seeing
her nearly always one of the last to leave hounds,
and a certain starter in a Belvoir late afternoon
gallop.

Gillard was ever ready to draw a covert if there
was any light left and anyone was anxious to go on.
Frequently we found ourselves riding to hounds when
it was impossible to see a fence until we were close
to it ; but these little things added to the excitement
and fun. I fear we did not always consider that
in thus giving us pleasure, he at the same time
gave himself a much longer day, and whilst we could
clatter home at a good pace, he had to collect his
pack and jog slowly back to kennels.

I cannot explain it or give any reason, but the
Belvoir hounds at this period always seemed in
better form in the afternoon than in the morning,
more particularly the big dog pack.

The Cottesmore had a very good run on 20th
November from Ranksboro, killing their fox in an
hour and twenty minutes.

Had the fox chosen a straight line this would
have ranked as one of the great historic runs, and
there would have been very few to see the end. In
spite of being able to cut corners, there were hardly
any horses could raise a gallop at the finish, and 1

CAPTAIN WARNER 97

remember hounds had it all to themselves for the last
few fields to Brannstone village.

The run did not start until about three o'clock,
and for the first half-hour hounds could only hunt,
so that by the time we reached Oakham the fox had
established a long lead ; but Neal allowed his pack
to work it out for themselves, and they gradually
increased their pace.

It was somewhere between Lady Wood and
Knossington that horses were asked to gallop fast.
From that point up to Ridlington there was never
a chance of easing up or drawing rein, and if you
know the country you will realize there is not a
more severe line in Leicestershire. According to
my account, I estimated that though it was only a
five-mile point, hounds must have covered at least
fifteen.

These are items I have chosen haphazard from
the November records of a season that was sup-
posed to be only moderate, and each month brought
some good gallops. Early in December the Quorn
had an excellent hunting run from the patch of
gorse outside the Coplow, and though they ran
into the Cottesmore woodlands with several fresh
foxes afoot, they stuck to the hunted one, and
finally killed him in Brown's Wood. It was not a
pleasant run to ride, as from the first the fox chose
that rugged hillside which leads to Large's Spinney,
and then after leaving Tilton, we became swallowed
in the chain of woods. It was another triumph
for Firr, and showed that his skill was as good in
woodland as it was in the open.

Near the end of December there was a very fast
scurry from Hose Thorns to Piper Hole Gorse —
7

98 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

a real Belvoir burst. In the serious business of
fox-hunting these bursts ought to be considered of
no account unless they are the preliminaries to
runs that attain definite ends ; but whilst the blood
of youth glows in our veins, we must indeed be
miserable beings if a foremost position in a quick
thing does not stir us up to frenzy. It is possible
to compress a lifetime of mad excitement into a few
seconds, when you are on the back of a good horse
and hounds are racing.

I can't remember how or why it was that a hard-
riding field were left, but on this occasion only four
fortunate individuals saw the gallop, and by that I
mean were in the same field with hounds. My
recollections of leaving the covert are dim and in-
distinct, but recall myself one of a happy little
band when some two or three fields away. The
pack then suddenly settled down to run, and if
the Belvoir go their best pace, it needs a good
horse to keep with them.

The chase had at first pointed for Clawson,
which may have induced the crowd to keep the
road instead of taking the initial plunge into the
fields. It was just their misfortune that hounds
should have suddenly started to run at the moment
they were temporarily out of sight, but it was
equally good luck for those who happened to be
with them.

There was no time to pick your place in a fence
and you had to accept everything as it came, for to
diverge a yard from the straight line would have
been fatal to your position. That brilliant amateur
between the flags, Capt. Roddy Owen, mounted on
one of Mr. Gardiner Muir's best, was thoroughly

CAPTAIN WARNER 99

enjoying himself ; Mr. Gradwell, a temporary
visitor to the Shires, was having the ride of his
Ufe ; whilst Downes, rough-rider to Mr. Julius
Behrens and a superb horseman, was carving out a
route with his usual skill. Each rode his own line
and took his fences as fate presented them. After
crossing the Hose-Clawson Road, hounds bore
somewhat to the left, and shortly afterwards
another road was encountered.

First one and then the other of the four would
gain a slight advantage, but there was nothing in it.
My good fortune enabled me to beat the others into
the second road by a few lengths, and I marked
my place out — the only place in a bullfinch.
Whilst I was on the left the others were to the right
of the pack, and before them the bullfinch became
a low cut hedge. My joy and pride at the position
I had secured met with the reverse it deserved,
and I was doomed for the remainder of the gallop
to a back seat.

At the moment my horse was about to jump
out of the road, a hound slipped back into the ditch,
which was both deep and steep. The two or three
attempts to climb up before she succeeded could
only have occupied a few seconds at the most, but
it was sufficient to lose me my place, and I was
thenceforth a good half field behind Capt. " Roddy "
to Piper Hole Gorse. I think there was a slight
element of competitive jealousy in the air that day,
and the desire to be first into every field was very
marked.

There was a lot of frost in January, and very
little hunting, but a partial thaw during the last
week gave hounds a chance of being taken out.

100 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

Unfortunately the Quorn made a start from Barkby-
Holt, and in that district found some hedge-sides
with frost still in the ground. The result was a
broken collar-bone for Firr, and hounds having to
be content with the first whip for three weeks.

Fred Earp was a first-class whip, and assisted
Firr for many seasons. He was always in the right
place, and ready to turn hounds when wanted. I
never had the pleasure of hunting with the South
Notts, when in later years he helped Lord Harring-
ton, and cannot therefore say what ability he
showed, but a good whip does not always mean
success as a huntsman. I always had a very high
opinion of Fred Earp as a whip, but did not think
that he would be equally good with the horn. He
rather lacked initiative and dash, though no one
could have been quicker in following Firr over a
country, and it was very seldom that he was left
behind. In the period referred to when Firr was
laid up, I remember one very long day which I
thought should have finished with blood; but it
is hardly fair to judge a man by what he did on a
solitary occasion. After two exceptionally hard
runs in the morning, a fox was found in Ragdale
Wood about three o'clock. There was a wide left-
handed ring to start with in the direction of Wymes-
would, and extending nearly to Burton. Most of
the time hounds were running a good pace, but
several fields of plough on the return journey reduced
them to slow hunting. However, they worked up
to their fox at the covert they had found, and set
off again with renewed vigour. A short dip into
the Hoby Vale and then the pack streamed away
across the big fields to Shoby Scoles. A few

CAPTAIN WARNER 101

minutes in this covert and then away at the lower
end. There was a temporary check, Fred had the
hounds at his horse's heels, and not two hundred
yards away the weary fox could be seen crawling
up the opposite hill.

The dusk of a winter evening was already merg-
ing into darkness, and every second was of value.
Had Fred rammed his horse through the fence and
given the pack a scream, they would have got a
view and killed at once. Instead, he dismounted
to pull out a tied-up hand-gate, and a priceless
opportunity was lost. No one else was there, and I
was putting the hounds to him ; but seeing him get
off his horse at such a moment nearly gave me a
fit. The result may be imagined — a fresh fox
jumping up, and the pack being with difficulty
stopped in the dark.

If Fred Earp should read this, I feel sure he will
forgive the criticism, as it is such a long time ago,
and he is not likely to be looking for a huntsman's
berth. If he had been turning hounds to Firr, and
that gap had barred his way, he would have crashed
through without the slightest hesitation, yet when
the initiative to act was his he failed.

Not only did the Quorn lose their fox that night,
but also a hound. Getting on the ice in Shoby
Pool, he broke through and was drowned.

It was somewhere near the end of January in
this season that about half a dozen men, thinking
hounds had gone, started off on a two-mile ride
across country, with the idea of catching them.

Being one of the guilty party, I can vouch for
having a very enjoyable ride, though feeling at the
same time rather ashamed of myself afterwards. It

102 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

was a late afternoon with the Belvoir, and whilst
Gillard was drawing Brentingby Spinney, the field
remained on the up-wind side. There was prob-
ably a certain amount of coffee-housing, and then
it suddenly dawned on us, as the buzz of conver-
sation lulled, that not the faintest sound of Gillard's
familiar voice disturbed the peaceful quietness of
the afternoon. Some one said, "They've gone away,"
and then a sudden panic seized the cavalcade. Off
we went across the turnpike at top speed, and down
the valley towards Thorpe, then straight away to
Melton Spinney. I think the wraiths of former
hunts must have walked abroad that day, or we
were all in very imaginative moods, for first one
and then the other would exclaim, " Yonder they
go ! " and that, of course, spurred us to greater
efforts.

On reaching the Spinney I happened to look back,
and there was Gillard with hounds at his heels
trotting quietly on the bridle-road — they had not
even found.

I cannot recall any fellow culprits now, but Lord
Henry Bentinck was one and Mr. Weston Jarvis
another.

Frost stopped hunting for several days both in
January and February, but when hounds could get
out, they had some very fair sport. The Belvoir
had a capital forty-five minutes, and killed their
fox on 5th March, whilst the other packs did equally
well. Then there was another spell of frost and
snow, so that it was not till the end of the month
that hunting was again in full swing.

The last week or two — we went on to the second
week of April — of the season were really brilliant, and

CAPTAIN WARNER 103

made amends for the numerous stoppages in the
previous months.

The last Friday in March the Quorn had a very-
good run from Ragdale Wood — fifteen minutes at
top speed in the Hoby Vale and the remainder at
a good hunting pace. After passing Thrussington
village it was rather an unusual line, as the fox
followed the river nearly to Syston, crossing and
recrossing several times. Turning back by Rat-
cliffe, it looked rather as if the run would fizzle out,
but Firr persevered, and getting up to his fox in
Cossington Gorse, killed him in Thrussington village.

The Belvoir on 30th March, finding a fox in
Newman Gorse, ran him hard for forty minutes and
killed him near Sysonby. The start was in the
direction of Garthorpe, and hounds had reached the
hill overlooking that hamlet before they swung to
the right past Freeby village. No coverts were
touched, and the fox did not even condescend to
enter Melton Spinney, but bore away to Scalford,
and then went on past Old Hills to his doom.
Those who know this country will realize that hounds
must have run a great pace to do it in forty minutes,
and it was probably the best gallop of the season.

The Quorn had a very good run late in the
afternoon of the ist of April from Mr. Cradock's
celebrated covert, Waltham Thorns. The weather,
wind with a cold rain, had been all against hunting
during the greater part of the day ; but it began to
clear slightly about four o'clock. I think it must
have been past five when the run commenced, the
majority of the field having then gone home, wet and
miserable. As for us, I remember there were only
about a dozen men left, but they were all triers, and

104 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

not easily turned aside by the stiffest fence. Hounds
were away out of the covert on the back of their
fox, raced down alongside of the bottom nearly to
Burton, and then, swinging left-handed, went straight
away to Hoby. Thirty minutes at top speed over
the finest country in the world is something to have
lived for.

Unfortunately the villagers of Hoby hallooed us
on to a fresh fox, and though hounds ran on for
another forty minutes they had to be stopped, as
every horse was " stone cold," and it was nearly
dark.

I remember that good sportsman, Lord Harring-
ton, was going exceptionally well amongst the big
fences in the Hoby Vale, which must have seemed
enormous after the South Notts country. At that
time he was hunting his own hounds four and five
days a week, but he liked to get an occasional day
with the Quorn, and you could always be sure that
on those occasions he could hold his own with, the
best talent from Melton. His is yet another face
that we shall miss when the hunting world re-
assembles, though his death was not caused by the
war. I hear it was blood-poisoning through a
slight cut, and it seems hard luck to be laid low by
such a small thing after having hunted for forty
years with numerous falls and accidents.

I do not think I ever had a day with his pack ;
but have always understood they hunted very well
and showed excellent sport. The last time we met
he offered to mount me any day I liked to fix, and
that was one of the good things I had promised
myself after thp war.

In addition to the South Notts country, which

\

CAPTAIN WARNER 105

is rather straggling, Lord Harrington accepted a
slice of Quorn territory from Capt. Forester on the
Forest side. For a man over his " threescore and
ten " to hunt six days a week, with portions of his
country lying wide apart, is a genuine proof of his
keenness and marvellous constitution. I wish there
were more like him, and regret that he had not a
son, for England can ill afford to lose the stock
from such tough fibre.

The Quorn finished the season with a brilliant
seventeen minutes from Ella's Gorse, the sun shining,
and in clouds of dust.

That was on the 9th of April, and two days later
the Cottesmore had a very enjoyable wind-up from
a meet at Langham.

This was a season that was universally condemned
as bad, and yet it will be seen by the extracts I
have made that there were many good runs. The
truth is that foxhunters are like farmers, they love
grumbling, and if their sport is stopped for a week
or two they forget all the fun they have enjoyed
in dwelling and thinking over the few days they
have missed.

CHAPTER VII

CAPTAIN ^ KR^^R— (continued)

Season 1887- 1888

THE first incident of this season was a lawn
meet at Little Dalby on the occasion of Miss
Hartopp's coming of age, a lady who was
destined later on to become the wife of a Quorn
Master. Little Dalby is in the Cottesmore country ;
but as the family have been intimately connected
with the Quorn for generations, representatives of
both hunts were there to pay their respects. It was
this season that the Quorn took back that bit of
country on the Donnington side which had been
lent to Lord Ferrars, and here, I may mention, it
was decided to revert to the old order of things
by hunting the north side of the Wreake on Mondays.
The change had been made the previous season,
with, I believe, the idea of decreasing the large
crowds that always attended the Quorn Fridays.

There was a fair amount of sport in November,
but nothing that is worthy of being retold. It
was in this month that a former master of the
Quorn died, Mr. " Jack " Chaworth Musters. I
was too young to remember much about his master-
ship, but had always heard that he was a first-class
huntsman, very clever with his hands, and as quick

as lightning in getting them away on a fox. I

106

CAPTAIN WARNER 107

believe he hunted the dog pack and Gillard the
bitches.

Apropos of that time I remember Gillard telling
me a rather curious story of a fox which had given
them several good hunts, and was lost at a certain
point without them being in any way able to account
for his disappearance. As far as I can recollect
the fox was always found in the Bradgate district,
and ran into the Atherstone country.

The last occasion was after an exceptionally
good hunt which, as usual, came to an end at the
same spot others had done on various occasions.
Mr. Musters tried everywhere, but could not solve
the mystery, and had started for home with the
pack at his heels. One hound, however, Gillard
noticed, was very reluctant to leave the banks of a
pond, and kept on gazing into the water. He there-
fore got off his horse to make a closer inspection,
and then found that a drain emptied into the pond
several inches below the water's surface. The
other end of the drain was practically sealed, but,
of course, it was soon opened while Mr. Musters
was called back. A terrier was put in, and the
fox bolted out into the pond.

My explanation is that this pond, like most
others in Leicestershire during the summer, would
be nearly dry, or at most half full and that the
entrance then would be well above the water. The
fox must have been in the habit of using it — per-
haps bred there — in dry weather, and knowing its
exact position would have no difQculty in entering
it under water. Foxes, as a rule, object to getting
wet, and it showed memory, as well as intelligence,
to have recollected the drain sloped upwards, so

108 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

that after making the dive he would be able to get
on dry ground again.

Sport improved in December, and there were
several nice gallops, short, sharp and generally
ending with a kill. On the gth of the month the
Quorn ran from Curate's Gorse to Melton, a nine-
mile point, but unfortunately scent was never too
good and the pace was only moderate. The fox
was viewed between Melton and Welby, evidently
very tired, and his subsequent escape was due solely
to darkness.

At the beginning of the season the ground had
been exceptionally dry, and then after a deluge of
rain there were several interruptions through frost.
However, there were several days, both in December
and January, when hounds ran fast, but no very
good run. In the second week of February all
three packs had good sport, and there was generally
a useful scent, which was followed by more frost
and snow.

The Quorn had a seven-mile point on nth March,
but the fox eventually beat them in the back
gardens of Syston. The same pack did better the
following week, as after a meet at Six Hills they
had two good runs, in each case killing their fox.

I remember well the 26th of the month and the
excellent run we had, an hour and five minutes with
a kill in the open. The Quorn were advertised to
meet at Twyford at twelve o'clock, and at eleven the
ground was covered with ten inches of snow. About
twenty minutes later the sun came out, and by
12.30 the ground was practically clear. The master,
therefore, sent out a telegram to say hounds would
meet at Gaddesby at one o'clock, but unfortunately

CAPTAIN WARNER 109

by that time the majority of Meltonians had taken
train to London and missed the sport. The run
was by no means straight, but you could forgive
that with hounds running fast the whole time, and
only about a score of people riding to them. The
two Bentincks thoroughly enjoyed themselves that
day.

The next week a very good run from Thrussing-
ton Gorse to Welby Osierbeds brought the Quorn
season to a close, and the Belvoir finished the
following Wednesday with a very fast burst from
Burbidge's to Freeby Wood. In spite of it being
April, hounds ran faster that day than they had
run the whole season.

Season 1888- 1889

The Quorn opening meet at Kirby Gate is
looked upon as a general holiday by the whole of
Leicestershire, and I should imagine parts of ad-
joining counties. Every species of vehicle is re-
quisitioned for the occasion and a huge crowd go
on foot, so that a fox has not much chance of getting
a clear course. The result is that there is not
usually much sport for those who ride, but occa-
sionally the difficulties are overcome, and a fox
gets away.

This year, after a short run from Gartree Hill,
in which the foot people were able to join, we had a
capital run from Burrough Hill Wood. Hounds
slipped away with very few in attendance, and
circling round Burrough village, went on to kill
between Sanham and Kirby. I happened to be
one of the fortunate few, and have therefore a

110 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

vivid recollection of the day. The crowd is usually
much too keen on the opening meet, and in their
anxiety to secure a good start ride rather closer
to the pack than either master or huntsman ap-
prove ; but on this occasion I expect the first run
had given the impression there was very little scent,
and they had consequently grown slack. If hounds
had not swung round under Newbold and from
thence on to John o' Gaunt station, the loiterers
would never have caught them, but by making
use of the hard road, they were able to cut them
off before embarking on the fields for Adam's
Gorse.

November continued to show good sport, and
there was a fair amount of rain, so that the ground
which had been exceptionally dry in October was
in a rideable condition. I note that the Quorn
had a good gallop on the Prince of Wales' — King
Edward later — birthday, and from the covert that
still bears his name. Probably the majority of
those who stand at Baggrave covert-side nowadays
waiting for a fox to go away, do not know that it
owes the name to the illustrious godfather having
sprinkled gorse-seed on the ground.

I am not sure about the date, but fancy it was
somewhere about 1877, when Colonel Burnaby,
father of the present Quorn master, was alive. Gorse,
however, does not thrive on all soils, and in spite
of the royal sower, it refused to grow with the
luxuriance which is necessary to hold foxes, and
then, in addition, many of the young shoots were
cut down by a severe frost.

In 1884 the gorse was replaced by blackthorn,
whitethorn and privet, which, being well planted

CAPTAIN WARNER 111

and carefully tended, quickly grew into one of the
hunt's strongest coverts. Ever since then, it has
always been a sure find, and has practically a better
average for good runs in the last twenty-five years
than any other covert in the Quorn territory.

Another celebrated fox covert that came into
prominence either this season or the next, was
Adam's Gorse, an ideal spot for a fox to lie and
from which to start a gallop.

In the days of Sir Richard Sutton, though not
considered a sure find, it bore the reputation of
harbouring good foxes, and several first-class gallops
started there. A small spinney and some straggling
unenclosed patches of gorse were then all that
constituted a covert, but Lord Manners in the last
season of his mastership enclosed about three acres
at his own expense. The expense, however, was
not heavy, and including fencing only amounted to
£40. I have a copy of the account now. The soil
was favourable to gorse, and in three years it was
a certain find. The success of my efforts and the
low cost gave me considerable satisfaction, so that
I have always patted myself on the back when
recalling it. Naturally I took all the credit to
myself, and did not take it into account that both
soil and season were in the main responsible for
the quick growth. Lord Manners had asked me
to get it done for him, and I don't know which of
us took the most fatherly interest in the place,
whenever it was being drawn.

I fear now it has fallen on evil days, and I hear
that foxes were seldom found there during the
war. The family of Underwood, who had occupied
the surrounding land for over a hundred years, have

112 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

left, and with them the glories of Adam's Gorse have
departed.

On looking over my notes I see that this was
George Gillson's first season with the Cottesmore,
and it will not be out of place to quote a paragraph
written then.

" Gillson, the new huntsman, appeared always
to be in the right place at the right moment, whilst
he seems to know when to handle hounds and when
to leave them alone." This was written on about
the first occasion I hunted with the Cottesmore that
season, and the opinion then formed was never
changed ; but I have always looked upon George
Gillson as the best kennel manager I knew.
His hounds not only worked well, but were always
fit. In my humble opinion a good pack of hounds
that are really fit should require very little assistance
from their huntsman. Gillson, although, of course,
not such an artist as Tom Firr, was a very good
huntsman, but in the latter part of his time he
suffered from ill-health.

The Cottesmore had been unfortunate on the
Saturdays near Melton, but 22nd December made
amends for previous disappointments, and was
probably the run of the season up to that date.
The fox was found in Wymondham Roughs, and
was pulled down in the open near Woodwell Head
after an hour and ten minutes. A big loop into
Belvoir country had been made before hounds
swung round by Coston to Severston, where prac-
tically the first check occurred. This run estab-
lished Gillson's reputation on a firm basis, and also
gave him the necessary confidence. Surtees hit
the mark when he put into Jorrocks' mouth on the

CAPTAIN WARNER 113

occasion of a " sporting lector " the sentence, " A
fish-tag's ware is not more perishable than a 'unts-
man's fame ; his skill is within the judgment of
every one — cleverest fellow alive ! — biggest fool
going \"

The Quorn wound up the old year with a really
first-class, old-fashioned hunting run. The fox was
found in Gartree Hill, and after starting out on the
Burton Flats, bore to the right and went fairly
straight to the Fish-pond Spinney at Cold Overton.
From this point he turned back, running through
the Punchbowl and Burrough village to be killed
near John o' Gaunt station.

Gillson had the bad luck to break his collar-bone
in January, and on the 17th of the month Mr.
Baird hunted hounds from a meet at Leesthorpe,
killing a leash of foxes.

Firr accomplished another of those marvellous
performances on the following Monday, when he
hunted a twisting fox from Thrussington Gorse for
fifty-five minutes with extraordinary patience and
under great difficulties.

Hounds then got on better terms, and running
hard for another forty minutes, killed in the open.

The Quorn had a very good run on i8th Feb-
ruary from Curate's Gorse to Scalford ; the first part,
up to Little Belvoir, hounds were racing over the
cream of the vale.

It may be that the Belvoir found the same fox
on the Saturday following at Hose Thorns, but after
giving a good run he again beat hounds in the
neighbourhood of Willoughby. In the afternoon
of this same day a fox from Clawson Thorns took a
similar line, and was run over by a train on the
8

114 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

railway beyond Curate's Gorse — a rather unusual
happening.

Sport was good all through March, and, in fact,
I think this was a really good season, probably the
best since '83-' 84. The Bel voir had their last day
on loth April, and though they met at the Castle for
the ostensible purpose of drawing the woods, Gillard
managed somehow to drift to Goadby Bullamore.
Here, it so happened, a good fox awaited us, who
chose a very nice line down Chadwell Valley, and then
away by Old Hills nearly to Saxelbye Wood. A
capital gallop and most of it very fast, which, of
course, being unexpected, was very much appreciated.

I should like here to quote some remarks culled
from my Field notes at the close of the season, as I
have seen no reason to alter the opinions there ex-
pressed, and it may help to avoid friction with
our friends the farmers.

" Fox-hunting in the spring is always unsatis-
factory ; and though we may not like bidding good-
bye to hounds, it would be better if the last of March
saw the last of hunting. One day in April will often
cause more unpleasantness with the occupiers of
land than would a dozen days earlier in the season.
Fences have been mended, fields have been rolled,
and the work of the farm is in full swing."

CHAPTER VIII

CAPTAIN "^ KR^Y.'R— {continued)

Season 1889-1890

CUB-HUNTING should always be understood
b}^ the few who go out as a period which
belongs entirely to the master and his staff —
a rehearsal for the serious business of the season.
It is not a time meant for their amusement, and they
should be grateful if fortune favours them with a
gallop — not look on it as something they have the
right to expect. There are many different systems
of pursuing cubs and teaching the young entry to
hunt, but every master must be allowed to adopt
the system which he considers best, without our
criticism.

My own opinion is that hounds require education
to hunt in the open quite as much as they do in
covert, though it should not be forgotten that they
very naturally prefer the former to the latter, so
that a course of covert hunting is very necessary.

Where there is a litter of cubs, hounds should
not be allowed to go away on an old fox, and it
should be borne in mind that the old ones have
usually a better scent than the cubs.

When, however, the body of the pack con-
centrate their attention on a cub and force him to
leave covert, I think it is much the best policy to

lis

116 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

let them go, no matter how dry the ground may be
or how brightly the sun may shine.

Hounds will always hunt a fox better that they
have settled to in covert and driven out. A cub
is much easier killed in the open. We seem to have
acquired the habit in the Shires of thinking that the
hunt servants must always be in the same field
with the hounds.

In my humble opinion I think they would often
be much better left to themselves with the hunts-
man watching from a distance, that is, if the young
entry have learned to go to the cry. In some
rough provincial counties they have to watch the
pack at work from a distant hillside, or otherwise
follow them entirely by sound.

Riding directly behind hounds, or too close on
the flanks, is, of course, wrong at any time of the
year ; but extra room should always be given during
cub-hunting. The master should look on his old
foxes as valuable assets for providing sport in the
season proper, and should not therefore knowingly
pursue them during cub-hunting.

If, however, the pack do get away with an old
veteran, and run some distance before they can be
stopped, or before it is realized that it is no cub, I
think it is best in the interest of hounds to let them
continue. When this does happen the early bird
feels that he really has captured the worm, and he
is rewarded for many mornings of shivering at the
covert-side. These remarks were occasioned by
turning to my Field notes, and finding therein an
account of a gallop in October from Cream Gorse to
Quenby. Thirty-eight bright and brilliant minutes
across the best of Leicestershire, finishing with a

CAPTAIN WARNER 117

kill in the open. I well remember that morning
the horse I rode, and nearly every incident in the
gallop — I can recall no better at any time of the year.
The actual point was five miles, and, of course, as
hounds run it was much farther, so that to accom-
plish the whole in thirty-eight minutes was proof
enough of the pace.

The fox picked out an ideal line and, though
some of the fences were full of leaf, there was never
anything to stop a good horse. Later in the day
we had a very fast burst from Thorpe Trussels to
Gaddesby Mill, so that, though it was only cub-
hunting, we can looking on this as a red-letter day
of the season.

On the following Tuesday the Quorn had a very
remarkable run in the Narborough district, and
according to my notes it was an eight-mile point.
Foxes had been very scarce in this district, but
owing to the efforts of Mr. Rolleston — later to be-
come Sir John — the coverts, though small, were
fairly well stocked. I am not familiar with that
side of the country, but the fox appears to have
been found in Cosby covert and killed in Fleckney
village. Firr, unfortunately, had a bad fall early in
the run, when, to complicate matters, the whole
field, with two exceptions, got the wrong side of the
river and never saw hounds again. The exceptions
were Mr. Tempest Wade, and West, the second whip,
and it was due entirely to their efforts that the fox
was eventually killed.

Hounds had run for an hour and a half, and
would have run into their fox unaided had not a
shepherd headed him ; but this caused a check at a
critical point. However, both the professional and

118 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

the amateur were determined not to be beat, and
persevered for the best part of an hour, when
they discovered their fox in a double hedgerow.
Two very happy men then escorted the pack to
kennels.

Again this season the Prince of Wales' birthday
was celebrated by a good gallop from the covert
named after him at Baggrave, which is a curious
coincidence, as the master never thought of it when
arranging meets. Hounds raced across the grass to
Thorpe Trussels, and, though a large field was out,
no one was very near them.

There was an interval of bad scenting days, and
then, on 23rd November, the Cottesmore had a
very smart ring from Stapleford, killing their fox
in the open.

This brings me to the 23rd December, when the
Quorn met at Wymeswould, and the run of that day
was the best I have ever seen. It was my good
fortune to be riding an exceptionally stout horse,
and was therefore able to keep going when others
were obliged to drop out. However good a run
may be, you cannot be expected to go into ec-
stasies over a performance you have not seen, and
one is rather liable to add colour to a hunt in which
you have held a good position. Even after making
allowances for this, I still hold the opinion that it
was the finest run that has happened within my
experience. More than thirty years have elapsed
since that eventful day, but every incident is im-
printed on my memory — from the finding of the fox
to the finish in the dark. I also number this as the
best scenting day within my recollection. In proof
of this I witnessed a curious instance, the like of

CAPTAIN WARNER 119

which I never saw before or since. Sometime
during the morning we were hunting a very bad
fox — probably a recent importation — and whilst
hounds were running up the hedgerow on one side of
a field he was going the opposite way on the other
side. The distance across was well over two hun-
dred yards, and yet, when the pack got the fox's
wind, they swung round and raced across the field
as if he were in view, though it was impossible for
them to have seen him. It was a rough ploughed
field alongside of the Fosse road, and not very far
from Widmerpool New Inn.

This exceptional scenting day was very near
being wasted on trivial things, a fox chopped in one
covert, several others blank, and the moderate
specimen referred to above. The last chance of
the day was Mr. J. D. Cradock's celebrated covert
Walton Thorns, and the master had announced
should this be blank no other covert would be
drawn. I think we all realized there was a great
scent, and it was an anxious moment waiting whilst
Firr disappeared in the ride — it was about ten to
one against finding, as hounds had been there the
previous week.

Let me quote from my Field notes : " The day
was far spent, there had been no run, and the
shadow of despair was gradually settling upon
us. . . .

"These are anxious moments as we wait and
listen for a sound that will raise us from the depths
of despair to the heights of bliss. Nearly the
whole covert has been drawn and we relapse into
sorrow, when all of a sudden there is a shrill tally-
ho ! from Firr that fills our souls with joy. Some-

120 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

one views the varmint across the ride, and the next
second Fred's scream tells us he is away."

The run commenced with a ring — thirty minutes
at racing pace. I think this was much too good a
fox to have indulged in circles if circumstances had
not compelled him to start up wind, and with hounds
close behind he was obliged to continue on that
same course until the Burton Spinneys screened
him from view. Here he swung to the left and,
after making a wide sweep out by Seagrave village,
returned to Walton Thorns : a thirty minutes'
gallop with the Quorn bitches flying, and with
scarcely a score of men in attendance.

In that half-hour there was not the semblance
of a check, hounds just gliding from field to field,
and a select little band striving to keep with them.
No one dreamt of stopping to open a gate, or could
afford even to diverge a yard from the straight
line, and, in fact, we were all rather taking liberties
with our horses, though enjoying ourselves vastly !
Those, however, who entered in the second stage of
the run, realized they had dropped in for something
out of the common, and it behoved them to husband
their mounts' reserve of strength. There was very
little time or opportunity for watching what others
were doing, but I have an impression of seeing
several dismounted men, with glowing faces, dis-
cussing the gallop they had just ridden, quite
oblivious to the fact that it was not finished.

These men must, I think, have been left behind,
for hounds were barely five minutes in the covert
before they were sailing away again up the thorn-
studded field beyond — it was a day when scent
was better in the open. All Quornites know the

CAPTAIN WARNER 121

line, in and out of the wide road that leads to Burton,
and then a perfect hunting country that may land
you anywhere. Half a mile short of Ella's Gorse
the fox bore round to the right, and then going
over Mr. Coupland's old farm crossed the top road
near Shoby Lane Ends.

I can distinctly remember passing a small
square spinney that is on the edge of the Wolds
tableland, and entering the valley that stretches
away to Hoby Clump. Shoby Scoles we left wide
on the left. It was somewhere about this time
that I missed Firr and the rest of the field, and my
only companion for the remainder of run was that
good sportsman, Mr. " Robby " Muir — he had not
at that time won his laurels and his military title
in the Boer War.

The pack never once slackened their pace, and
I can see them now gliding up the steep rise towards
Shoby village, whilst we toiled after them with the
unpleasant feeling that we were losing distance.
On top of the hill we could afford to put on steam
again, and then for a few minutes they were out
of sight in crossing the Shoby Lane, but we were
able to get in touch with them beyond. My next
recollection is a slight check near Mr. Wright's
house, Saxelby Park, and then they were off again
as hard as ever in the gathering gloom of the
shortest day.

Then it was the pack crossed the Midland Rail-
way, and they were only just clear when the express
from Nottingham flashed by. We had a choice
of bridges to right or left, but either meant a detour
of at least half a mile — the right meant going
through Grimstone village, and we took the left.

122 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

This naturally put us two fields behind, but we
could still just manage to see hounds, though unable
to make up the leeway lost.

On arriving at Welby Osierbeds the pack were
skimming up the hill beyond, and looked like dusky
ghosts flitting on in the twilight.

At the grass road above Welby village I made a
fatal error, and, unfortunately, persuaded my com-
panion to follow me. It was nearly dark, and
hounds had again got ahead of us, so that it seemed
best to try and cut them off at the Melton turnpike.
This would have worked out satisfactorily if the
fox had not reached the end of his tether ; but, as it
was, hounds killed him on the ironstone tramway
whilst we were ahead of them. Had we followed
them down the little lane which leads by Welby
church we should have seen the finish. Thus
ended the best run I have ever seen, the best scent,
and the stoutest fox.

When Firr came up, " Ruby," ^ an old favourite,
met him with the mask in her mouth.

The Quorn seem to have monopolized the lion's
share of sport this season, and they had another
good run on 27th December. The fox was found
in the Coplow, and after running by Baggrave
and South Croxton went straight away to Thurnby
station. This part of the run was very fast, and
over an excellent country. After this hounds ran
down the brookside into the suburbs of Leicester,
and killed their fox near the asylum.

This must have been an extraordinary good
scenting week, for I see that on the Saturday the
Belvoir had a rattling fifty minutes over the best

1 Ruby by Ranter — Garnish, 1883.

CAPTAIN WARNER 123

of the vale, and killed their fox in Holwell village.
He had been found in Sherbrooke's covert, and by
starting out towards Hickling, with a bend by-
Parson's Thorns, he was able to lead us over an
ideal line.

There was rather an amusing scene with these
hounds about a week later, though it must have
been annoying to the master.

Sport that morning had not been very good, so
that when the Harby Hills were being drawn and
a halloo was heard in the vale below, every one's
idea was to get there as quickly as possible. The
field was full of " ride," hounds were for the
moment invisible in the covert, and a hundred horse-
men set out in the direction of the halloo. We will
hope that at least some of them were a trifle ashamed
when, after a steeplechase for a mile or more, they
found the pack were behind them.

I think this season should rank with those that
have been lauded to the skies, as, in addition to
many high-class runs, there was hardly a day that
hounds did not give us some sport. On 7th Feb-
ruary the Quorn ran from Barkby-Holt to a well-
known drain at Hoby Rectory, the fox being bolted
and killed. This was a most unusual line ; but the
fox had evidently made up his mind for his ultimate
point whea he was first found, and ran perfectly
straight.

It was somewhere about the close of this season
that the Melton midnight chase was run. I cannot
remember the exact date, but think it was in March.

Lady Augusta Fane suggested it, and the idea
caught on at once, though I believe there was only
a day or two between the moment of suggestion

124 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

and the date of the race. The Fanes then occupied
the Old Club at Melton, and they invited the com-
petitors to dine. Unless my memory is at fault,
we all sat down in hunting rig camouflaged with
nightgowns, and a very merry dinner-party it was.

Shortly before midnight the horses were brought
to the door, and their iron-shod hoofs clattering on
the cobblestones awoke the vicar from his sleep,
which so annoyed the poor man that he took the
liberty of denouncing the "unrighteous crew" from
the pulpit for disturbing his peaceful slumbers, using
as his text, " Have no fellowship with the unfruitful
works of darkness."

Someone must have made a mistake with the
almanac, as instead of a full moon, which we had
been told to expect, it was a pitch dark night.
However this little detail was overcome by the
kindness of the stationmaster, who lent us railway
lamps.

According to precedent all the competitors were
to put on nightgowns over their other clothes ; but,
as most men wear pyjamas, the articles had to be
borrowed from ladies for the occasion.

The course was about a mile out of Melton, and
was over some four or five fields, with, perhaps,
double that number of fences to jump.

In spite of the shortness of notice, and the fact
that until the morning before neither time nor date
had been fixed, quite a large crowd had assembled.
The spectators could have seen very little, as it was
impossible to distinguish anything clearly beyond a
radius of about three yards.

It sounds rather silly now, but the race itself
was very good fun, and quite exciting. The most

CAPTAIN WARNER 125

noticeable feature to me was galloping top speed
across ridge and furrow without being able to see
which was the up and the down — it gave you an
extraordinary feeling. The most talented racing
scribe would have been hard put to it to paint the
happenings of either horses or riders, and I can only
tell what befell me in the race, as the white gowns
of my fellow-competitors was all that could be seen
from start to finish.

Being as always very poor, with a limited stud,
I did not feel that I was at liberty to risk laming a
horse ; but Mr. Gordon Wilson very generously came
to the rescue and lent me one. This was an old
chaser with a "leg" ; but I can vouch for the fact
that he was sound enough that night, though I was
sorry to hear afterwards it was his last gallop.
Having the organ of locality strongly developed,
and knowing the country well, with, in addition, a
fast horse under me, my chances of winning were
pretty good. Mr. Edward Baldock acted as master
of the ceremonies, clerk of the course, starter and
judge. His first duty was to marshal the com-
petitors, and give them instructions as to the lights
they had to go round, with other details. The
order then was that we were to finish in a gateway,
the posts of which were to be the winning posts ; but
someone pointed out the danger in a close finish,
and the order was amended. In the inky darkness
it was very difficult to see every one, and unfor-
tunately for me I never received the amended in-
structions. All with one accord vowed, ere we
plunged into the darkness, that we would go at a
very steady pace, but at the word " go ! " such
good resolutions were forgotten, and we dashed off

126 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

as if it had been a five-furlong scramble in the
light.

I arrived at the fence into the country first, and,
I think, before the lamp-holders expected us — I
could see the light, but it was not shining on the
fence. Here my horse refused, but jumped all
right on being put at it again, and in fact cleared
everything splendidly afterwards.

I was able to catch up the others before we
reached the turning point, and then commenced to
draw ahead. I knew exactly the location of the
gateway, and as the finish was uphill I could send
my steed along best pace without fear of his " dicky

leg."

Although it was impossible to see, I could hear
the other horses, and all were well behind me on
my right, so that after pulling up on passing through
the gateway I naturally imagined I had won. The
whole affair was just for the fun of it, and there was
no prize except the cup that Count Zbrowski gave,
so that, of course, I did not say anything, but must
admit was very disappointed.

Mr. " Algy " Burnaby was the winner, and he
is now the Master of the Quorn. I cannot remember
all who rode that night, but there was Mr. " Harry "
Rawlinson — now a baronet, and one of the most
successful generals in this last war. Mr. Gordon
Wilson died gallantly at the head of his regiment,
of which he was colonel ; but both these men dis-
tinguished themselves in the South African War.
Then there was Count Zbrowski and Capt. Warner —
both since dead. I can recall Mr. " Charlie " McNeill
and Mr. " Will " Chaplin ; but there were several
others, though at the moment I cannot think of

CAPTAIN WARNER 127

their names. The supper at Coventry House after
the event was a very cheery affair, and to the best
of my behef the competitors continued to wear the
" nighties " they sported in the race.

February was about the worst month of the
season, and even that had many bright spots.

On 7th March the Quorn had a very merry gallop
from Scraptoft Gorse, and killed their fox in the
stableyard at Lowesby — twenty-eight minutes at
racing pace. The same pack met on the following
Friday at Brooksby, to bid a sort of farewell to that
good sportsman, Mr. Ernest Chaplin. The expenses
of a very large family had made it necessary for
him to cut down his stud, which from a dozen had
been reduced to one. He was going extraordinary
well when I commenced hunting, but I think even
then he had only a couple of horses in the stable,
and the responsibiUties of paternity were becoming
increasingly heavy. No man enjoyed a hunt more,
and he could discuss every detail of a run with his
after-dinner smoke. Like the majority of Quornites
in those days, he was a great admirer of the hunts-
man, and when you dined at Brooksby the usual
toast was " Tom Firr and fox-hunting."

Another good sportsman now reigns there and, as
every one knows. Lord Beatty has made it his home.

The Quorn had a great run from the Prince of
Wales' covert at Baggrave on 21st March — a great
run, even though it did not finish with blood. The
actual finish was close to Hallaton, which is a nine-
mile point ; but I am very nearly certain that we
changed foxes in Tomblin's Spinney — a tiny place
on the side of the hill between Billesdon and Lord
Morton's.

128 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

Hounds raced away from the start, passing
Carr Bridge and Lowesby, then bearing to the
right, ran straight to Botany Bay. Here they
never dwelt a moment, but were out beyond and
speeding forward with undiminished pace before
half the field had reached the covert. At the
Uppingham turnpike they swung to the left, crossing
the road near the Billesdon Workhouse, and into
the aforementioned spinney.

I had seen the fox several times during the
run, and knew he could not have lasted many more
minutes, so that when the hunt continued by Skef-
fington and Keythorpe I felt quite sure there had
been a change. It was very seldom that Firr did
not get to the head of affairs in the first field, how-
ever badly he might have been placed at the start ;
but on this occasion hounds slipped away out of
covert on the back of their fox and ran so fast that
he had not a chance of making up lost ground. I
don't think he appeared on the scene until we
changed foxes, and probably the change would
not have occurred if he had been there. Firr was
riding that day one of the best horses which has
ever crossed Leicestershire — " Revolving Light " by
name, and own brother to " Gamecock," a National
winner. Capt. Warner had bought him at Lord
Manners' sale. He had a very light mouth, but
with Firr's " hands " he went beautifully, though
I remember Fred Earp was never quite happy on
him on the few occasions he hunted hounds, and
Fred was by no means heavy fisted. I suppose in
his anxiety to reach his hounds Firr must have
asked too much of his mount in the early stages of
the run, and, being unable to get a second horse.

CAPTAIN WARNER 129

was never able to give him a breather. Whatever
the cause, " Revolving Light " died before he could
be got back to the stable.

I also that same day killed a horse, which was
a serious thing for me. It was a blood mare I had
bought the previous Saturday at Leicester, and I
was riding her for the first time. By a stroke of
good luck I had managed to get an excellent start,
and the mare carried me brilliantly to Billesdon —
a bold and free jumper. Having only given a
" pony " for her, I was naturally delighted with the
purchase, as well as jubilant over seeing such a
rattling gallop.

Although I do not remember that she ever
touched a fence, she must have just grazed a sharp
stake and the mischief was done — I had her shot
there and then.

For some unexplained reason a large proportion
of the men who were usually in the front rank never
saw the fast part of the run, and I don't think they
ever realized how good it had been. The time of
the whole thing was an hour and twenty-five
minutes, with a nine-mile point ; but the fast part
lasted about thirty minutes.

In referring to the midnight chase I mentioned the
names of Mr. " Willy " Chaplin and Mr. " Charlie "
McNeill as being two of the performers. Both were
first-rate men to hounds, and the former, when on a
good horse, can still hold his own. The latter left
the Quorn to take hounds, and I hear was a very
capable huntsman.

CHAPTER IX
CAPTAIN WARNER'S CLOSING SEASONS

Season i 890-1 891

THE ground was so hard during cub-hunting
that it prevented us having the usual merry
Uttle gallops which we usually expect to
relieve the monotony of serious business. The
Quorn, however, had a very good run on the last day
of October, in spite of hard ground. A fox was
found in Walton Thorns, which, after running nearly
to Wymeswould, swung round to the right, passing
Mundy's Gorse and Thrussington Wolds, crossed
the Hoby Vale, and was lost near Queniborough.
Truly that was good enough for any period of the
season, and the first thirty minutes hounds went
so fast that it was all we could do to keep them in
sight.

I note that both the Belvoir and Cottesmore put
their opening meet off for a week on account of the
hard ground ; but the Quorn began at Kirby Gate
as usual on the first Monday in November. " Fair
sport and a moderate scent, but a triumph for Firr
in catching his fox under great difficulties," was
my summary of the day.

Towards the end of the month the long-expected

rain fell, and the Quorn scored an extra good run

130

CAPTAIN WARNER'S CLOSING SEASONS 131

on Monday, the 24th, after a deluge on the previous
day.

They had the good luck to find an old veteran
in Shoby Scoles, and with a capital scent ran
him to death. His first point was the drain at
Hoby Rectory, taking Ragdale on the way ; but the
master had previously given instructions for the
entrance to the drain to be permanently closed
for the season. This old fox had doubtless
frequently taken refuge there before, and doubt-
less expected to find sanctuary there on this
occasion.

His subsequent wanderings led us over a most
unusual line, and I do not ever remember hounds
running it either before or since.

The river was crossed below Rotherby, when
the pack swung to the left and ran very fast towards
Frisby ; but on approaching the latter village they
turned up the hill and crossed the Leicester main
road as if for Cream Gorse. I think the fox knew
that covert and had thoughts of going there, but the
wind was against him, which doubtless influenced
him in recrossing the river and going north. The
place where hounds actually crossed was close to
the clump of Scotch fir near Asfordby ; but as the
river was in flood no one seemed anxious for a swim,
and the nearest ford was some distance away. I
don't think we caught them until they were on the
Grimstone tunnel, where they had checked. On
the line being recovered the pace increased, and
horses that had already begun to flag were asked to
face some stiff country in the direction of Asfordby
furnaces. The fox then ran the ironstone rail-
way for fully a mile, and until he crossed the

132 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

Nottingham road ; but his many wiles were of no
avail, hounds knew he was sinking, and driving on
killed him near Holwell Mouth. One hour and
forty minutes the run lasted ; but it must not be
supposed it was a slow hunt, as most of the time
hounds were running very fast, and the fox must
have been extraordinary stout.

About the middle of December a frost set in
that lasted until the end of January, and, of course,
cut out a large slice of the season. Although the
Quorn were able to hunt the previous week, there
was very little sport, and with the ground still hard in
places until 2nd February, when that pack had an
excellent run from Willoughby Gorse. Seventeen
minutes at racing pace to Widmerpool, and down
by the brookside towards Bunny, after which the
fox took a line of plough by Keyworth, and was
eventually killed in Kinoulton village. The pace
for the first seventeen minutes must have burst
the fox, as the remainder of the run was slow, and
probably no other huntsman would have overcome
the difficulties encountered. On the following
Wednesday the Belvoir had an exceptionally smart
gallop — twenty-two minutes from Coston covert
to the keeper's lodge at Freeby Wood, where the fox
was killed. Hounds ran first of all in the direction
of Stapleford, before swinging to the right and
rounding the shoulder of the hill on which stand the
belt of trees known as the Rickets. Those who
are familiar with the country will realize the distance
— I made it about seven miles — and to accomplish
this in twenty-two minutes meant steeplechase
speed all the way. If I remember right Mr. Alfred
Brocklehurst had the best of it, though I am nearly

CAPTAIN WARNER'S CLOSING SEASONS 133

certain the " big brother " was in a good position
throughout.

This was a typical Belvoir gallop, short, sharp
and decisive. Scent that day must have been
extraordinarily good, as hounds ran hard until it
was dark ; but, unfortunately, the foxes found
afterwards were of the short running variety.

The Quorn had a very good run on 9th February,
though only a ring it embraced such a large extent
of good country that it was possible to overlook the
fact. The meet was at Wartnaby Stone Pits, the
fox found in Welby Osierbeds, and killed close to
where the meet had been. Before this was
accomplished hounds had run through Old Dalby
Wood, passed by Ragdale, and on to Hoby, when
they followed the Wreake Valley to Asfordby, and
returned to Welby.

The pace was fairly good, without being very
fast, and it was this that enabled the fox to carry
on for two hours and ten minutes. There are
people who will always assert that in a run of
this length a change of foxes occurred, and except
in the case of a "bob-tailed," or some distinguish-
able mark, it is not an easy matter to prove they
are wrong. This was a case in which I was sure
there was no change.

The same pack had an excellent day's sport on
20th February, finding a fox in Barkby-Holt, and
killing him near Sileby. The first ten minutes over,
the stiff enclosures towards Barkby village and on
to Queniborough, hounds were flying, and was, of
course, the cream of the run as far as riding was
concerned.

The pace at the start was doubtless responsible

134 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

for the ultimate triumph, because time was lost,
and there were numerous difficulties to overcome.

This was a late afternoon affair, the morning
having been spent in the neighbourhood of the
Coplow.

There were several nice gallops before the end of
the season ; but the run that scored the longest point
was to the credit of the Belvoir. Being short of
horses that week, I was unfortunately not there,
and can therefore give merely a bare outline. The
fox was found in the valley that lies between Melton
Spinney and the Waltham road. He was even-
tually lost near Barrow, close to where the Quorn
kennels now stand, which is an eleven-mile point.
Shoby Scoles and Ragdale were taken on the way,
ensuring a first-rate line of country. Hounds ran
very fast part of the time. It would have been a
great triumph for poor old Gillard if he had caught
his fox, and the run would then have ranked as
historical.

In spite of several long stoppages by frost and
snow, this was a very good season, and hounds
seldom were able to hunt without showing
sport.

It was in this season that Lord Lonsdale's much-
discussed driving match with Lord Shrewsbury
took place — it eventually resolved itself into a
match against time. The time and the road had
to be kept secret, or there would have been an un-
wieldy crowd which might have interfered with
ordinary traffic.

The Field had asked me to report the match,
and Lord Lonsdale had promised to let me know
where it was to be.

CAPTAIN WARNER'S CLOSING SEASONS 135

On my return from hunting with the Quorn on
Monday, gth March, I found a wire awaiting me to
say that it was fixed to take place at Reigate the
following day. I reached London about 11.30, and
found a blizzard blowing. The snow, which was
like fine dust, found its way through the cracks in
the hansom window-flap, so that on reaching Victoria
I might have been taken for Father Christmas or
an out-of-work baker.

Have no idea what time the train should
have arrived at Reigate, but it landed me there
about two o'clock in the morning — cold and
hungry.

The platform heaped high with snow, and the
roads to the station blocked. It must have lain
nearly three feet deep on the level.

I trudged through this to the " White Hart,"
carrying my bag, and on arriving there was told
every bedroom was occupied. Lord Lonsdale had
gone to bed some two hours previously ; but learnt
Major " Sugar " Candy had only just retired, and
a few minutes later I was banging at his door.
In response to a gruff " What do you want ? " I
told him I wanted the use of his floor to sleep on.
Every hotel blanket was in use, but a fur coat is not
a bad substitute ! Lord Lonsdale arranged matters
for me next night, and I spent a very pleasant time
until the match on Thursday.

There were several well-known press men, and a
very jolly party. I can't remember them, all now,
but there was John Sturgess, senior, " Pot " Stevens,
" Fatty " Coleman, and " Swears.'* Sir John Astley
(the Mate) was there part of the time, but had to
leave before the match.

136 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

With the Field's permission I now give the
article written for them at the time.

" A Sporting Match

" Disappointment and regret will be generally
felt at the unsatisfactory termination to the Shrews-
bury-Lonsdale match. Through the past winter
the possible time in which each competitor would
be able to accomplish the distance has been a topic
of increasing interest, and now that Lord Shrewsbury
has withdrawn from the contest at the eleventh
hour, the public will feel that they have been
deprived of a long-standing promised performance.

" The origin of the match has now become a
matter of history, so that a full account is rendered
unnecessary. A conversation amongst a shooting
party assembled at Ingestre last November, com-
mencing on the merits of trotting versus galloping,
gradually led up to the wager of the nominal sum
of £ioo being made between Lord Shrewsbury and
Lord Lonsdale. The course was to be twenty
miles, equally divided between the four different
styles of driving, viz., four-in-hand, pair, single and
postilion. Mr. Arthur Coventry was appointed
referee, and each competitor was to drive his own
team. After several roads had been discussed,
Lord Lonsdale chose a fairly level stretch on the
Great North Road, while Lord Shrewsbury's choice
was a road on the borders of Sussex, close to where
his horses were being trained. The referee, probably
thinking that either was good enough, decided for
the latter, as being the nearer to London. Lord
Shrewsbury seems to have been in a strange state

CAPTAIN WARNER'S CLOSING SEASONS 137

of vacillation at this period, and only telegraphed
late on Saturday to his opponent to meet him at
Reigate on Monday morning at six o'clock. There-
on Lord Lonsdale put horses and carriages in a
special train, and went straight to the appointed
spot. It was found impossible to run the match on
the Monday, and ten o'clock on Tuesday was there-
fore fixed.

" The morning arrived, and found Lord Lonsdale
encamped with all his force at the 'White Hart,'
Reigate ; but there was no sign of either Lord Shrews-
bury or the referee. Snow had certainly fallen
heavily in the night ; but a gang of men and a snow-
plough had been early at work, and had cleared
away all obstructions. Several well-known sport-
ing men and press representatives had assembled;
but, though the road was reported clear, the Shrews-
bury party failed to put in an appearance. Tele-
grams flew to and fro between London and Reigate,
and at last, late on Tuesday night, a message arrived
from Lord Shrewsbury to say he would pay forfeit.
This was, naturally, a great disappointment to Lord
Lonsdale, who, however, in consideration of the
public money that had been wagered about the time,
decided to go the course and make the best record
in his power.

" Though the match, by becoming a mere race
against time, was shorn of much of its interest, yet
a very large crowd was collected at Reigate, and
much discussion ensued as to the time it was possible
to do the twenty miles in. Another heavy fall of
snow had come down the previous night, but the
plough had been early to work, and the whole
length of road was cleared. The course was a five-

138 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

mile stretch of road between Reigate and Crawley.
At twelve o'clock the sky cleared, the sun shone,
and the four different teams filed out from under the
archway of the ' White Hart.' It would occupy too
much space to give a full description of each horse ;
suffice it to say they all looked as hard as nails, and
fit to run for their lives. Lord Lonsdale had
thought if worth doing at all it was worth while doing
well, and had taken the greatest trouble that nothing
should be wanting to make a record that should
occupy a niche in the temple of fame. As far as
we in our humble opinion could judge, success had
most deservedly crowned his efforts, and look where
we might not a flaw or hitch could be seen in either
horses, harness, vehicles or arrangements.

" Walking down the road with the easy, swinging
gait of the thoroughbred is that speedy horse War-
paint, and he is harnessed to a racing waggon lent
by Mr. Fox of New York. Next come a pair of
American trotters that have done a very respectable
record ere they crossed the Atlantic ; but we shall
see to-day that they can gallop as well as trot.
The machine that glides smoothly behind them is an
ordinary road waggon, lent by the Marquis of
Cholmondeley. Then, drawing a char-a-banc, the
four-in-hand trot jauntily by ; bloodlike leaders, and
wheelers that look capable of carrying fourteen
stone in the front rank to hounds. Last of all comes
a hogmaned hunter -like chestnut, carrying the
postilion's saddle, and alongside of him is a brown
mare, which we understand is Violetta, an animal
that was lately racing in France ; they are drawing
a buggy that was specially made for the purpose by
the Hanney Company of Illinois.

CAPTAIN WARNER'S CLOSING SEASONS 139

" But we must hurry to the scene of operations,
or we shall miss some of the fun. A three-mile
drive brings us to where a crowd of people are
standing about in the snow and the slush, with an
air of eager expectancy written on their faces. On
each side of the road two little blue and yellow flags
flutter gaily in the breeze, and denote that this is the
starting-post, as it also is the finishing one. Our
drag is drawn up in an adjoining gateway, and a
clump of Scotch pines shelters us from the wind. A
mile or more of brown road, hemmed in on each side
by the white snow, stretches away up the hill and
disappears beyond the brow. Some preliminaries
have to be gone through ; two of the teams have to
reach the farther end of the course, and the road has to
be cleared. A more good-humoured crowd could not
be imagined — lots of chaff, not a solitary policeman
to be seen, and never a moment when one is wanted.

" At last everything is in readiness ; we assemble
round the timekeeper, there is a cry of * he's off ! '
and we see Lord Lonsdale in blue spectacles dash by
in his 'one -horse shay.' It seems but another
second and old Warpaint, settling down in his stride,
is disappearing over the distant hill. He is out of
sight, and now we have twenty minutes to wait
before he can appear again, which time is not ill-
spent alongside of the refreshment hamper. A
day or two ago very few people believed it possible
to do the twenty miles under the hour; but the
business-like way in which everything is arranged
seems to have altered that opinion, and now we
cannot even get a modest sovereign on the event.
Watches are consulted, and in a few minutes more
we may expect the returning sportsman to appear

140 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

in sight. Yonder he comes over the brow of the
hill ! Nearer and nearer come the flying team,
scattering with their heels the dirt, which forms a
halo round the carriage. There is a cry of ' Clear the
course ! * a rush to take up positions, and the next
second the pair of mares flash by. The mud-
bespattered nobleman urges them on until the post
is passed, then, with a whoa and a pull at the reins,
he has arrested the full tide of their career suffici-
ently to drop to the ground, and climb the char-a-
banc.

" The four horses are well into their collars, and the
wheels are spinning round. His Lordship has
scrambled to the box, and now, approaching the flags,
he seizes the ribbons, and shaking himself into his
seat is at it again. Enthusiasm and excitement
rise to the highest pitch as we watch each horse lay-
ing himself out to his work, all level as a die, and
every trace taut. It is a heavy vehicle, but these
horses make nothing of it, and the whole thing is
soon beyond our ken. We have another twenty
minutes to wait, but we see now that, bar acci-
dents, extraordinary good time will be made, and
we anxiously watch for the return. Men who had
taken up positions along the road are now muster-
ing in great force at |the winning-post. A current
of feverish expectancy shows itself in a low
murmur — it is nothing to do with betting, for
hardly anyone here has a farthing on ; but it is the
genuine interest which the British public always feel
in witnessing an extraordinary feat by a thoroughly
honest sportsman.

" Now the horses' heads are in sight — they are
racing down the hill. The postiHon Earl is sitting

CAPTAIN WARNER'S CLOSING SEASONS 141

in the saddle and sending them along at the very
top of their speed. Every one gets as near to the
post as he can, and in the excitement of the moment
is heedless that he stands half up to the knees in
snow. Clear the road ! The horses seem to fly,
and in another second they sweep past the post.
Up go hats and caps, real hearty British yells rend
the air, and the race is over.

" The twenty miles were done in fifty-five minutes
thirty seconds. This is a record that will not be easily
lowered. As far as Lord Lonsdale was concerned,
he had done everything that human foresight could
imagine. Both himself and his horses were trained
to the hour, and we may say that neither was in
the slightest degree tired or blown by their very
severe exertions. Harness and carriages combined
lightness and strength, and after the race was
over, when it is always easy to criticize and find
fault, it was impossible to see what more could
have been done to have made better time. The
roads after the snow were decidedly woolly, and in
places the wheels cut in deep ; this would, of
course, affect time. Then half a minute was lost
by a horseman being unable to pull his horse out
of the road, and quite as much when an over-
zealous policeman wanted to interfere. The feat
will go down to posterity as one of the finest per-
formances in the history of sport."

Season 1891-1892 .

There was a serviceable scent during cub-
hunting, and all three packs were able to blood
their young hounds, with the addition of good

142 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

educational work both in covert and the open.
Several enjoyable little gallops were fully appre-
ciated by the early risers ; but there was no run
of any distinction, though perhaps I should make
exception of the day the Quorn ran from Scraptoft
to Great Dalby.

This was i6th October, and it is not often a fox
makes a seven-mile point at that time of the year.
The line included the cream of the Friday country,
which means the best in the world. I remember
most of the fences were feasible, although they
appeared rather forbidding clothed fully in their
summer foliage. The brook about midway between
Ashby and Twyford obliged us to leave the pack
whilst we found a place to cross, and we never
really caught them again until they reached Thorpe
Trussells. The fox was viewed near Great Dalby,
but Firr's horse was beat, and the master very
reluctantly gave the order to stop hounds. I had
forgotten this run until refreshing my memory
with reading the Field account, and thinking it
over now I come to the conclusion that it was
quite one of the best in my experience. Neither
the master nor any of the hunt staff had any in-
tention of pursuing an old fox, and it was one of
those lucky mistakes by which the field profit.
Previous to drawing Scraptoft, a brace of cubs
had been killed in Botany Bay, and as hounds had
spent a hard morning in covert they were to be
allowed in the open as a little relaxation.

Unless my memory fails there was a strong
litter in Scraptoft Gorse, and when a cub crossed
the intervening field to the Spinney hounds were
allowed to follow him. They must then have

CAPTAIN WARNER'S CLOSING SEASONS 143

changed on to the old fox, who was probably
lying in the Spinney.

Sport was fair up to Christmas, and then came
a long frost accompanied by snow, which cut out
nearly two months of the season ; but hunting was
in full swing again the last week in February.

On 1 6th March the Bel voir had a very fast
gallop from Sproxton Thorns to Freeby Wood,
where they changed foxes, and then, after dodging
about Brentingby Spinney, they suddenly slipped
across the Waltham road and ran smartly to
Scalford Bogs.

The majority of the field missed the latter part,
and they were presumably changing horse or
eating lunch, at the same time discussing the
merits of the initial burst.

The Quorn finished the season with a very good
gallop on 1st April from Burrough Hill Wood to
the Withcote side of Owston Wood, where they
killed their fox.

Season 189 2-1893

For some unknown reason my Field letters for
the earlier part of this season are missing, and then
there was frost at the end of November.

Hunting commenced again on i6th December,
and the following day the Belvoir had a capital
run, though as I was not out, the details must
remain in oblivion. The Quorn had a very smart
evening gallop of forty-five minutes on the Monday ;
but, unfortunately, hounds had to be stopped
through want of light. It was certainly only a ring,
but very wide, and embracing a beautiful country.

144 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

The end of the month brought a return of frost,
and with it came Capt. Warner's resignation of
the Quorn Mastership.

Frost had gone by the beginning of February,
and I note a very merry spin from Walton Thorns
to Prestwold with the Quorn. There was then a
general improvement in scent and some fairly
good runs ; but from my notes it appears we had a
streak of ill-luck, and were continuously just missing
having hunts with good foxes by the intervention
of the bad.

The fact of two different packs hunting over
the same ground on successive days made me
sympathize with the farmer, and inspired some
remarks which it may not be out of place to re-
produce here. " ... the unhappy occupant of
land whereon these two hunts disport themselves
deserves our earnest consideration. The Burton
Flat is usually the arena for both hunts, and the
farmers who farm there may be excused if they
get a Httle impatient when, having endured the
vagaries of a Quorn crowd one day, they are in-
vaded the next by a Cottesmore crush.

" That mad, headlong charge from Gartree Hill,
when the crowd is first let loose and before it has
had time to expend any of its bursting energy, is a
power capable of doing much damage to the fields
and fences. Of course, many of those who come
out hunting do not pretend to have a knowledge of
the sport any further than is necessary to ensure a
good fit for their breeches and the right number of
folds for their neckcloths. These are very laudable
ambitions, and, when attained to perfection, the
results are gratifying to every one ; but some people

CAPTAIN WARNER'S CLOSING SEASONS 145

think that the education of a fox-hunter should not
rest here.

" We cannot very well blame those who are
ignorant of the damage they do, but I fear we, who
think we know better, give very little thought to
the cracking of timber and the brushing through of
hedges in the excitement of the run. The same
timber and hedge will bear rude traces of our pro-
gress, and as the farmer walks round his fields in
the calm of the evening, there will be no pleasurable
excitement for him in contemplating the gaps."

The Quorn had the run of the season on 20th
February, when, finding a fox in Curate's Gorse,
they crossed the vale and marked him to ground in
the Harby Hills.

The fox was headed near the Parsons, and when
the pack swung sharply to the right up the steep
sides of Hickling Standard, more than half the field
overshot the mark and took no further part in the
run. To quote from my article at the time, " This
was a run when you were either quite happy or
perfectly miserable ; when at the finish a flood of
generous humour bubbled to your lips, or a sour
and crabbed smile closed your mouth in silence."

Have just written of above as the " run of the
season," and no doubt it was until the Belvoir capped
it with one better on the following Saturday. I do
not think that there has ever been anything to beat
this in the whole annals of the Belvoir Hunt. This
pack had the largest slice of luck during the season,
and most of the sport was credited to them.

Unfortunately for a large number of Meltoni-
ans, and incidentally the Field correspondent, the
meet was fixed for Scrimshaw's Mill, which is a
10

146 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

fixture beyond the Melton area, and not usually
associated with a gallop over grass. The result
was the majority who usually attended a Bel voir
Saturday did not go, and as my abode was five miles
the wrong side of Melton, I also was an absentee, and
am still regretting it. The fox was found in Harby
Covert, and was killed less than a mile from Brooks-
by. I am not going to harrow my own feelings
over again by going into details which were supplied
me by different and reliable men, but will just give
you the outlines. For the first twenty minutes,
hounds never hesitated or checked, and it was all
the first flight men could do to keep in touch with
them. At the end of the twenty minutes there was
a slight check by Old Dalby Wood, where the fox
had been headed, and had it not been for the
momentary stoppage, no horse would have had the
wind to continue. It had been a veritable steeple-
chase, in which light weights and blood horses had
the best of it. There were several fresh foxes in
Grimstone Gorse, but Gillard managed to stick to
the hunted one, and running out towards Asfordby
swung right-handed and killed him on the banks of
the brook that divides Hoby and Frisby.

This run in itself should make the season memor-
able.

The Quorn had a very hard day on 3rd March,
running for three hours and a half without stopping.
At one moment they were close to Norton Gorse,
and eventually killed their fox a field from Cream
Gorse. Of course there must have been a change
somewhere, but no other covert was drawn after
leaving Botany Bay, though both Baggrave and
Barkby-Holt were run through. The pace at times

CAPTAIN WARNER'S CLOSING SEASONS 147

was very fast, so that it is absurd to suppose one fox
could have accomphshed the whole journey, though
the one killed was too tired to struggle into Cream
Gorse, only two hundred yards distant.

There was a very good gallop with the Quorn
which I distinctly remember, from Brooksby Spinney
on 17th March. A very wild morning had been
succeeded by a fairly quiet, though extremely cold
afternoon. It was getting to the time of year
when foxes are difficult to find, and small spinneys
are of necessity the most uncertain. We were by
no means hopeful whilst watching Capt. " Taffy "
Williams' small covert being drawn, and were
consequently jubilant when a big handsome fox
bounced into the open in full view of the field ; but
the happiest man was the covert owner.

Hounds were away in a moment, and for fourteen
minutes they raced over one of the nicest bits of the
Quorn country, although perhaps a trifle stiff
except on a good horse. At the end of the burst
we found ourselves at Queniborough, and then came
two or three fields of light plough which slowed the
pace down, but when once across the Leicester
turnpike the pack commenced to run hard again.

If I remember aright, four men were down at an
Oxer, for though it was only a small field every one
was very much on the ride. The country from
Syston to Rearsby station is rather intricate, and
takes some negotiating. Below Ratcliffe we were
between river and railway, but kept to the meadows
until reaching the aforementioned station. The
fox then decided to cross the Wreake, making a
sharp turn to the left. I happened to be with Firr,
and for some reason had an idea when hounds

148 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

swam across that the river was fordable — I knew
there was an ancient ford somewhere close. I
therefore said, " It is all right," to which Firr
replied, "Go on then, sir." It was a beastly cold
day, but I had to go then. My horse was bold, and
did not hesitate to plunge in, but the ford was not
there, and he had to swim. Our difficulties began
on reaching the farther bank, and what had looked
like a decent place to get out proved a bog. I
managed to pull the poor old horse out, and then
discovered the landing-place I had chosen was the
outfall of the village sewer. Firr watched me until
I had crossed, and then galloped round, when, of
course, he reached hounds before me. There were
some half-dozen men in the field to my left, and
what annoyed me was that they found the old ford
and crossed without having to swim.

The fox was lost eventually close to Barrow
village in a snowstorm, and I beheve the master
considered I was more than half responsible for
the failure of the scent. I do know that every
one held their noses when I went near them. My
dear old friend Mr. " Bill " Martin lent me clothes
to ride home in, or rather I borrowed them without
asking ; but if he had been there the pages of the
County Gentleman would have been enlivened by a
vivid account of a black and highly scented " Q."

This brings Captain Warner's Mastership to an
end, and the period which I have enjoyed most in
all the years I have hunted. There were many good
runs during his time of office, but what I think
more to the point is, that hounds nearly always
provided some sport whenever they were able to
hunt. Captain Warner was very methodical, and

CAPTAIN WARNER'S CLOSING SEASONS 149

did things thoroughly, so that the business of the
hunt was carried on without a hitch. One of the
things on which he insisted, and which I consider
most important, was that the country should be
drawn and hunted fairly. It is a matter that not
only affects sport, but is essential in keeping on
good terms with covert owners and occupiers of
land.

There had been rumours that Lord Lonsdale
might take the Quorn, and before the season closed
the matter was settled ; his brother, Mr. Launcelot
Lowther, to act for him in his absence.

CHAPTER X
LORD LONSDALE

Season 1893-1894

ALL those who had ever met the new master
expected to see men and horses turned out
with that perfection of detail for which he
had always been celebrated. They were not dis-
appointed. The careless or slovenly man might
say that the fit of a hunt servant's breeches would
not help sport, but hunting is, in the main, sup-
ported by the goodwill of those who never ride, and
if the chase is to retain its popularity with the
general public, it is essential to make a good
show.

The Quorn is the premier pack, and it seems
only right that the staff attending them should be
rigged out in faultless style, as an example and
pattern to less distinguished and poorer hunts.

Although I cannot claim to have been a shining
example of neatness in the hunting field myself,
I can admire and appreciate it when seen. The
hand of a first-class tailor could be seen in the way
the hunt servants' coats fitted, and the breeches —
spotless buckskin — were perfection. There was
nothing to criticize or find fault with. The horses
were all clean bred, and had proved themselves
good hunters. Every horse was hogmaned, which

'SO

LORD LONSDALE 151

no doubt made them look neater, but personally I
don't like to see a thoroughbred hogged.

The ground was very hard at the beginning of
the season, and before the end of November hunting
was stopped by frost.

Up to this point I have given you the best runs
of each season, but from now on I shall pick out
the days I remember and enjoyed.

That was a very good run on 26th January from
Gartree Hill to Burley, the fox being killed in front
of the house. Hounds ran very fast at times, but
it was not a really good scent, and they were often
in difficulties. It was yet another feather in Firr's
cap.

Perhaps the fastest gallop of the season was a
briUiant burst with the Belvoir from Old Hills, of
about twenty minutes.

Season 1895-1896

The earlier part of this season was uneventful,
and there was a severe frost before Christmas, but
with the New Year we had fair sport nearly every
day.

The Quorn had some extraordinary good sport
on the forest side, I was told, and a veracious
friend who lived in that quarter spun me a yarn —
after dinner^ — of a fox who lived under the shadow
of a big rock, and when found would leisurely mount
the rock, wet his paw, and hold it up to find out
which way the wind blew. That is the story, as I
received it, but I cannot guarantee it being true.

I think it was in this season that Lord Lonsdale
bought the Brocklesby dog pack, and, bringing

152 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

them to Leicestershire, hunted them himself on by-
days. All those who hunted with him were loud
in their praise of the sport shown, but I felt it my
duty as Field correspondent to stick to the regular
days ; and though hounds were frequently at my
door on Wednesdays, I nearly always went with
the Belvoir. I did, however, have a day or two
with Lord Lonsdale, and saw some very good sport ;
but in my opinion the hounds were too big for an
enclosed country where the hedges were thick. It
prevented the pack from carrying a good head and
getting quickly together.

My first day with the private pack when there
was any scent was on 7th March, and with a com-
paratively small field we had a capital run over
the cream of the Quorn country. The morning
had afforded a short and pleasant gallop, but the
afternoon run from Thorpe Trussells was very good
indeed, and hounds were only prevented from killing
their fox through want of light.

Season 1896-1897

My first week's letter in this season is missing,
and I have no record of the Quorn opening day ;
but, unless I am mistaken, it was the Kirby Gate
that hounds ran from Adam's Gorse to Neville
Holt. The following week's issue tells of the fox
having been found dead on Wednesday morning
after the run on Monday, and it seemed such a
tragic ending for a gallant fox that I tried to trace
his homeward journey. Here is the story as it
appeared in the Field, and although I wrote it,
that does not ensure the details being true.

LORD LONSDALE 153

" The poor old customer, weary and tired,
heard with satisfaction the cry of hounds stop at
last, and, stretching his aching hmbs beneath the
friendly shelter of a haystack, lay quietly down
until darkness should make travelling safe. Then,
when the last shepherd had gone home to his
supper, and the countryside had sunk into the
peaceful stillness of night, our friend rose from his
hiding-place and prepared to start on his journey
back. For the first few minutes his stiffened
joints would hardly bear the weight of the body,
then the muscles would relax and gradually the
condition from years of activity would assert itself,
so that he could trot gently on his way. He took
things very quietly, as he had many hours of dark-
ness before him. Those cornstacks on the top of
the hill supplied him with a light supper in the
shape of a fat brown rat who had ventured too far
away from home ; this, washed down by a hearty
drink at the adjoining pond, gave him strength
to pursue his journey. Arriving at Launde Park
Wood some time about midnight, he sought out
a dry patch of grass, and after licking himself
clean, prepared to settle down for a good long
sleep. The rat, however, had only partially
satisfied his hunger ; but he was too tired to hunt
for food himself. He then bethought him of a
vixen whom he had visited in this wood last year,
and to whom he had paid marked attention.
Sitting down on his haunches, he opened his mouth
and commenced a series of blood-curdling howls,
which were eventually answered in the far distance
of the wood by shrill yap yaps. The cries came
nearer, and at last the vixen appeared, which

154 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

fortunately turned out to be his old love. Ex-
plaining the situation to her, and his inability to
hunt for food himself, she gave him a hearty
welcome, and immediately started off on the
desired quest, returning presently with a nice fat
rabbit, and half a dozen black beetles to aid diges-
tion. After an amicable discussion on the best
way of avoiding hounds the two friends parted,
with a promise on the gentleman's part to pay a
visit after Christmas.

" All Tuesday the old customer slept soundly
on, and though once or twice he woke suddenly
with a start as the cry of hounds was borne down
from the distant heights of Tilton. At sundown
he awoke and stretched himself, prepared to resume
his journey. After a roll on the grass in the park,
and a momentary stare at the lights twinkling in
the Abbey windows below, he jogged quietly on
through the Lover's Walk and into Owston Wood,
where he stopped some time talking to old friends.
He was still very stiff, and he could not get on very
fast, so that by the time he neared Burrough the
earliest cocks were beginning their morning crow.
Here, unfortunately, he came upon an old hen in
a hedgerow that had wandered beyond its usual
walk, and been overtaken by darkness before it
could find its way back. The hen was eaten, and
the old customer journeyed on. His home, Adam's
Gorse, was little more than a mile distant, and he
hoped soon to be having a well-earned rest. The
consumption of the fowl had wasted time, and as
he entered the valley between Burrough and his
home day had begun to break. An early shepherd
was mustering his flock to see they numbered

LORD LONSDALE 155

right, and seeing our poor friend travelling down
the hill, set on his sheep-cur to course him. At
any other time the sheep-cur would have been
easily distanced but, with stiff muscles and that
still undigested hen, the dog gained at every yard.
The fence was only a few yards distant, and the
fox made heroic efforts to reach it. He thought
he was safe, and was already stooping to creep
the smeuse, when he felt the hot breath of the
dog, and a sharp grip across the loins. Turning
round savagely to do battle with his antagonist,
the unworthy cur fled, and with tail between his
legs returned to his master. The poor old customer
had, however, been bitten in a vital part, and he
was only able to drag himself to the field at Adam's
Gorse, there to lay himself down to die. A few
hours later the body was discovered."

Although this was a very great run, and portions
of it were quite fast, it was not altogether satis-
factory from a riding point of view, at least that
was the impression left on me. The mere fact,
however, that a twelve-mile point was accomplished,
is sufficient in itself to place the Adam's Gorse run
amongst the most famous performances in the
history of hunting.

I seem to have lost the pages which would
have reminded me that this was the year when
there were great changes at Belvoir. The Duke of
Rutland gave up the mastership, and Sir Gilbert
Greenall was appointed his successor. Frank
Gillard retired, and Ben Capell became huntsman
to the famous pack, which was lent to the country.
In the previous three seasons Lord Edward Manners
acted as field master, which had relieved Gillard

156 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

very considerably, as it is not an easy matter to
hunt hounds and control the ardour of a hard
riding field.

Capell carried on the traditions of hound breed-
ing on the same lines as his predecessors, and I
think with very great success. In fact, the Belvoir
blood, which had always been appreciated by other
kennels, became in such demand that the stallion
hounds were used rather too freely.

It would have been contrary to all precedent
to have charged a high fee for the service of the
best hounds ; but I thought at the time such an
innovation would have been of benefit to all.

On nth November the Belvoir found a fox in
Burbidge's covert, and killed him at Ranksboro.
This made an excellent beginning for Ben Capell,
as it was by no means a good scent.

There was frost at the end of December, and
then hunting began with the New Year.

On i6th January the Quorn had an excellent
day's sport, and the most enjoyable part thereof
was the gallop from Gaddesby Church to an earth
at Thorpe Satchville. This is a line of country
which to my mind is ideal, every fence jumpable,
the enclosures the right size, and the ground gently
undulating, so that it is necessary to be in the same
field with hounds if you want to see them.

On this particular occasion the fox had been
found in Cream Gorse, and circumstances had
obliged him to break on the Brooksby side, and he
had deemed it advisable to steer for Gaddesby
Church before turning to make his point. When,
however, he did turn, he never once deviated a
hairbreadth from the straight line, which led to

LORD LONSDALE 157

the earth, where he eventually found sanctuary.
There was a great scent, and hounds flew all the
way. I remember the gallop distinctly, and thought
it was the fastest gallop of the season, with every
element in its favour to make things enjoyable.
One little incident, which only concerned myself,
took off a little of the gilt. I had been lucky enough
to secure a good position, and was first into the
road at Gaddesby ; but on landing a leather slipped
out, and, though I returned it quickly, for the next
mile I had to be content to jump fences behind
others.

There was another good run later in the day,
which finished up in the^ Cottesmore wood-
lands.

In my letter of 30th January I mention the
fact that the " Quorn Committee have decided to
introduce capping non-subscribers," and then go on
to speak in favour of what appeared to many old
supporters of the hunt as a " dreadful radical up-
heaval of ancient traditions." At that time I had
no idea my services would be requisitioned as the
official " capper," or, perhaps, I should not have
looked on the custom with such a favourable eye.
Let me say now that extracting those golden coins
from the pockets of visitors was one of the most
unpleasant tasks that has ever fallen to my lot.
With very few exceptions did they have the right
amount ready to hand out, and the job of searching
in a crowd of three hundred for strange faces lost
me many chances of getting a start. It was a new
departure, and, of course, many visitors had not
heard that "capping" had been introduced; but
although no one likes being suddenly asked to fork

158 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

out gold, I never had any unpleasant remarks made
whilst getting it. I did, however, notice that when
some old friend returned to have a day with
the Quorn, he did not meet my greeting of warm
welcome in quite the same cheery spirit as of yore.
Also, I fear, there were many who avoided me if
possible, and who would rejoice if they escaped
detection, thinking no shame of not paying for their
sport. My task would have been much easier if
those from whom a cap was due had sought me out
and paid without being asked. One of the very
few exceptions who tendered the money unasked
was Lord Cecil Manners ; but as masters were
exempt, and he was representative of Bel voir, I
took upon myself to refuse it. In my opinion the
Melton Hunt owe a very big debt to the Dukes of
Rutland for having provided them with hunting
free of cost for so many years, and I should have
been ashamed to accept a cap from a son of that
house.

In those early days of the " cap " there were
many amusing episodes ; but there was no foundation
for the yarn that I had a fall, stood on my head in
the ditch, and spent the rest of the day searching
for lost treasure. There may have been some truth
in the story that I chased a lady across country, but
the lady shall be nameless. My successor had rather
a funny experience with a lady — why is it ladies
object to pay hard cash ? He had pursued this
particular fair one all day, and she had managed to
evade him until just before the end, when he man-
aged to corner her. Of course she was profuse in
her apologies for not having seen him before, and
immediately handed over a coin wrapped up care-

LORD LONSDALE 159

fully in paper. My friend was much too polite to
open the paper there and then ; but on reaching
home that night he found it contained only half the
correct amount.

This was quite a good season ; but I think the
best sport was in March, when all three packs had
some very good days.

On the thirteenth of the month the Cottesmore
had a rattling good day, hounds running hard until
dark. Here is an account of thirty minutes at
top speed from Laxton's covert to the Punchbowl,
and I can recall every incident of the gallop.

" The whip has galloped on to the lower end of
the covert, and his halloa is a signal for us to hurry
to the spot. The pack are crossing the little
stream that runs below, and are soon flying up the
opposite slope. Sticky and holding is that first
field, but still we dare not slacken our speed. We
top the slope at last, and rejoice to find ourselves on
good, sound turf. On we go towards Whissendine,
swing right-handed across deep ridge and furrow
with the sun shining blithely in our faces. It was
somewhere hereabouts that we were with the
Belvoir last Wednesday, and the gaps have a
familiar look, but in and out a road quickly brings
us on to fresh ground. The ' Noel Arms ' is, we know,
just in front, but something turns our fox sharp to
the right. Hounds turn just as sharp, and never
falter for a moment. Is it pleasure, is it excitement,
or is it funk, that makes the perspiration trickle
down our faces ? Perhaps a little of all three, but
still the result is the most delightful sensation in
the world. Each second is a whole volume of a
lifetime, and the joy of that second is too intense

160 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

for words. Hounds race on, their maddening notes
rising and falling in perfect harmony. How they
twist and turn, but ever driving onwards ! What
fun it is ! Back over the brook we go in the
direction of Wild's Lodge, swing left-handed across
the turnpike, and check for a second by Wheathill
Spinney. Another left-handed turn, and the pack
are into the spinney near the Punchbowl. Thirty
minutes of real, unalloyed pleasure, and then the
best of it is over."

Gillson was a good huntsman, but was a great
sufferer from indigestion, and I think with better
health would have made a great name for himself.
It was, however, in the kennel that he excelled,
and I have always considered that his pack were
the fittest I had ever seen. Some one has said
that more foxes are killed in the kennel than in the
field. This is what I wrote on the day of the
above run. " Gillson has got together as smart
a pack of bitches as anyone can wish to see — full
of muscle and the gloss of health shining through
their skins. No pack that I have seen carry a
better head ; they have plenty of music, and can
hunt a bad scent as well as race when it is good."

Season 1897-1898

There was not very much sport in November,
but the Quorn had a very good hunting run at
the end of the month. An outlier was found near
Ratcliffe village, and when he went to ground
within a few fields, it seemed as if that chapter
was closed ; but Harry and his terriers turning up,
he was speedily evicted. There was a very poor

LORD LONSDALE 161

scent, and time was lost by the fox running through
Seagrave village ; but although it looked hopeless
on several occasions, Firr persevered and was
rewarded by hounds bowling him over close to
Ella's Gorse.

Have I mentioned Harry Houghton before ?
Masters come and masters go, but Harry is a
permanent institution with the Quorn, though it
was not until Lord Lonsdale's era that he attained
official recognition. Belonging to a well-known
and highly respected yeoman family, his love of
sport prevented him from devoting his full energies
to agricultural pursuits, with the result that a sub-
stantial patrimony was early wasted. A passion
for fox-hunting, and with no other means of in-
dulging in it, eventually landed him amongst the
ranks of the "runners" in some one's faded scarlet
coat ; but though always ready to do slight services
for his mounted friends and earn something to
keep the pot boiling, his one great desire was to
see the fox hunted and killed. Of late years he
has followed the hunt with his terriers in a pony
cart, which might indicate prosperity, but I fear
that a natural tendency to cheery company and
lively evenings have rather retarded his advance
to substantial affluence. Perhaps those whom he
has assisted in days gone by may give him a
pension in his old age.

There must have been a return this season to
the custom inaugurated by Capt. Warner, of hunt-
ing the south side of the Quorn country on Monday,
as I find on Monday, 27th December, the meet was
at Brooksby. A very nice run was the result,

hounds finding in Ashby Pastures and after taking
II

162 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

a turn out to Gaddesby, killed him on the lawn
of Little Dalby Hall.

The early part of the run was rather slow, and
the field may have become a little slack, so that
when hounds suddenly began to run fast at Ashby
Folville they were left behind and missed the best
part. I can remember the occasion, because I
was one of those foolish people, and have a vivid
recollection of seeing Lord Lonsdale on his famous
grey, cutting out the work over that charming
Twyford vale.

On the last day of the year the Quorn had a
very good forty minutes from Ella's Gorse, and
killed their fox. The run was not straight, but
that was forgiven because it was such an ideal
line. By Willoughby across the Fosse and then
right - handed to the top of Old Dalby and back
by Mundy's Gorse to Hoton Spinney — can you
imagine a better country ?

I have, however, always looked on that as a
black day, for in the afternoon Firr had a very
nasty fall from which I do not think he ever com-
pletely recovered. The following Friday the master
was hunting hounds, and we had a good run from
Curate's Gorse. The Quorn appear to have had the
lion's share of the sport, and a very fine run was the
one that commenced near Barkby and ended near
Eye Kettleby mill. Lord Lonsdale was then still
acting as huntsman.

On I2th March the Cottesmore found a fox in
the Punchbowl and killed him near Ridlington,
which is a good eight-mile point.

This was a really very good season with perhaps
the best of the sport coming after Christmas.

CHAPTER XI
CAPTAIN BURNS-HARTOPP

Season 1898-1899

WHEN we bade adieu to the Quorn at the
end of the last season, we had no idea
there would be a change of masters, but
Lord Lonsdale was obhged for private reasons to
resign at the last moment. A master was re-
quired at once, and Capt. Burns-Hartopp came
gallantly to the rescue. No man ever worked
harder for a hunt or had more misfortunes to con-
tend with than this new master.

It was nearly the first day of cub-hunting on
the forest side that Firr had a bad fall, which though
it was hoped might only lay him up for a time,
proved serious enough to oblige him eventually
to retire. The first whip, Fred Gabbitas, was
temporarily installed as huntsman ; but though
very willing I do not think the art of hunting was
born in him, and Leicestershire is not an ideal
country to acquire knowledge, particularly when
the riding over it is also not exactly a labour of
love. At the moment I cannot remember how
long Gabbitas carried the horn, but he was eventu-
ally succeeded by Walter Kyte, who had been
whipping-in to him. Kyte was a very good horse-
man, but had little experience in the kennels, and

163

164 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

had acquired his knowledge of hunting through
watching Firr when riding second-horse to him.

Of course, every one who goes out hunting
considers himself sufficiently expert to criticize a
huntsman, and it seemed a safe thing to comment
adversely on a man promoted as it were from the
stables. Kyte I feel sure knew he was being criti-
cized, and therefore did not do himself justice.
Proof of this was that after he had received notice
and knew he was going, he gained confidence, and
showed some extraordinary good sport.

However, I am rather anticipating events, but
I wanted to show some of the difficulties Capt.
Burns-Hartopp was faced with at the commence-
ment of his reign. This season, scent was seldom
really good, but we had many pleasant little gallops,
and there were few days that we returned without
some excitement. The Quorn had a very good run
on 7th December from Gartree Hill to Whissendine,
where they killed their fox, much to the satis-
faction of the much criticized Gabbitas. The
earlier parts of the run were of a ringing character
and did not promise to blossom into anything
better, but at Somerby the fox elected to run
straight, and the latter portion was very good.

On Saturday of the following week the
Cottesmore had a brilliant twenty minutes from
a rough field near Whissendine. That good sports-
man and prince of heavy weights, Mr. " Cis "
Chaplin, had harboured a fox with such care and
nicety that he was able to lead us directly to the
exact furrow in which the outlier had curled him-
self up to sleep. All those who saw that gallop
were brimming over with joy, but probably no one

CAPTAIN BURNS-HARTOPP 165

was quite as happy as the man who had provided
us with the material.

On that last Monday in December, Walter Kyte
started as huntsman to the Quorn, and though there
was very little scent I thought he made a promising
maiden effort.

I think the Quorn run of 23rd January from
Welby Osierbeds was the best of the season.
Hounds ran straight by Melton and Saxby to
Stapleford, which is in itself a six-mile point ; but
that was only half of the run. I thought at the
time there must have been a change of foxes some-
where about this stage, as the pace had been very
hot most of the time, and there had been no delays,
so that it is almost impossible to conceive one
animal making a farther seven-mile point. Near
Laxton's covert, hounds were in difficulties ; but
Kyte recovered the line, when we galloped on by
Berry Gorse and Wheathills to Little Dalby. Here
there were several holloas, but in the absence of
any reliable evidence as to which was right, the
huntsman very wisely left it to the pack. Some
slow hunting then led us by the Punchbowl and
Burrough Hill Wood to Thorpe Satchville, where
the fox had very considerately waited, and then
hounds ran very fast down the valley to Ashby
Folville. Swinging uphill again to the Pastures,
they drove him through that covert, and killed
him two fields beyond.

The huntsman was, of course, entitled to con-
sider that he killed the fox he started with, as no
other covert was drawn ; but my idea was that we
picked up the line of one that had been disturbed
somewhere in the neighbourhood of Laxton's

166 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

covert, though it was extraordinary luck to hunt
two such straight-necked customers in one day.
Hounds were never touched from the find to Saxby
station.

The Cottesmore had an exceptionally good
run from Mr. Peake's covert at Burrough on the last
Saturday in February, and it was over a beautiful
line of country. They ran out as far as Marefield
to begin with, then swinging left-handed, kept
Owston village to the right. The pace up to this
point had been good, but it then increased, and
hounds never hesitated a moment until they checked
in Pickwell big field. The check was only tem-
porary, and then the pace was maintained through
the Punchbowl and Burdett's covert to the Great
Dalby side of Gartree Hill. Here the fox turned
down on to the Flats and was killed close to Burton
Hall. The official time was, I believe, fifty-five
minutes.

The Quorn scored another good run on St.
Patrick's Day, finding a fox in Burdett's covert, and
going straight away to Prior's Coppice. Hounds
carried the line through the latter covert without
dwelling a moment, and were pointing for Leigh
Lodge when the fox turned back into Launde
Park Wood, where several fresh ones brought the
run to an end. Except that it lacked blood at the
finish, this run would have been considered quite
first class.

The close of the season was marked by Firr's
resignation, and it was to me a very sad moment
when we assembled to bid him farewell — sadder
perhaps than when a few years later we saw him
buried in the Httle churchyard at Quorn. Perhaps

CAPTAIN BURNS-HARTOPP 167

it is as well to add here what I wrote for the Field.
Personally I consider that the best sport that I
have seen and enjoyed was whilst hunting with
Firr, and shall always look back on that as the
happiest period of my life.

"Presentation to Tom Firr

" On the lawn in front of Mr. W. Warner's
picturesque old house, the Quorn Hunt had gathered
on Monday last to say good-bye to the huntsman
they had loved so well. Heavy showers in the
morning and black clouds overhead, threatened to
make the function thoroughly uncomfortable ; but
as the time fixed approached, the sun came out, and
all things were gay. Gay it was to the eye, but our
hearts were sad within us. It was an impressive
scene, and like nothing else that we are accustomed
to see. There was a subdued hush, disturbed only
by the flapping of the tent and the gentle murmuring
of many voices, whilst the whinings of sixty couples
were heard occasionally from the kennels hard by.
Beneath an awning on the edge of the lawn, Firr in
his unstained scarlet sat in melancholy state, and in
a semicircle around him were collected a crowd of
those who had often followed him in the hunting
field. Beyond the sunk fence, facing the tent,
were yet another crowd, and behind a row of horse-
men.

" There should be nothing sad in the acceptance
of a handsome salver and a substantial cheque, but
every one felt it to be a painful occasion, and there
were few who had not only a choky feeling in the
throat before the ceremony came to an end. The

168 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

man we have idolized as a huntsman, and who has
served us for so many years was sitting there
before us, his health completely wrecked in showing
us sport. Little more than a year ago he was riding
as brilliantly as ever, and now, by an unfortunate
accident, he is cut off from following the profession
that had become part of his life. We acknowledge
him to have been a king amongst hunstmen, and
now, at this moment, we feel the inadequacy of the
tribute we pay.

" It was a trying moment for all, and all were
glad when it was over. The final parting with
hounds, and the sympathy expressed by every one
were almost too much for Firr in his weak state of
health, but by a marvellous effort of will he suc-
ceeded in controlling the emotion which he evidently
felt."

Every one had hoped that his health would im-
prove, and he would be able to continue as huntsman ;
but this was not to be, and it was some time in
February that his retirement became an acknow-
ledged fact. When this was finally decided, I
immediately wrote an article for the Field as some
little return, and an appreciation of the eighteen
seasons I had hunted with him. Of course I knew
nothing from my pen could raise his character as a
huntsman in the estimation of those who had been
privileged to watch his skill in hunting a fox, but I
wanted to draw the attention of old Quornites to
the fact that a testimonial was being raised, and to
remind them the opportunity had arrived to con-
tribute in memory of the sport they had enjoyed.
I was therefore bitterly disappointed and annoyed

CAPTAIN BURNS-HARTOPP 169

when my article was returned. Mr. Blew was at
that time the hunting editor of the Field, and though
I do not think we ever met, I found him very un-
pleasant in his official capacity — he may have been
charming in private life.

" Brooksby " also told me he could not get on
with him, and was continually having to complain
of his articles being cut up. In my lengthy asso-
ciation with the Field I have always been on the
best of terms with all the other hunting editors, up
to and including the present genial expert. What
experience Mr. Blew had actually in the hunting
field I have not the slightest idea, but should
imagine it was very limited, and like many others
with a little knowledge, thought he had nothing to
learn.

His work, The Quorn Hunt and its Masters,
contains many errors, although dates and names
may be fairly correct ; but I think the most inter-
esting portions of the book are from material
supplied him by that good sportsman, Mr. J. D.
Cradock.

Season 1899-1900

With a southerly gale blowing on 3rd November,
the Quorn had what a hard rider from a neighbour-
ing hunt described as the best run he had seen for
ten years.

Custom has ordained that the first Monday in
November shall open the real season, and therefore
when that month is born a day or two later, the
start is delayed.

The occasion of this gallop was the Friday before
Kirby Gate. The meets in the previous week had

170 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

been at 9.30, but the master was an indefatigable
early riser, and had gone back to 9 o'clock.

It is the business of the master and his staff to
catch as many cubs as possible, for which purpose
the early hour is certainly the best. I am a great
advocate for hunting early, and believe we should
have much better sport with the meets at nine
instead of eleven, but all the same should not wel-
come the change. During cub-hunting we rather
expect the first hour or two to be devoted to serious
business in covert, and to the killing of cubs, a part
of the programme which is not usually very amusing
to the onlookers in the Shires. Of course, in a
woodland country it is a different thing, but to stand
for two or three hours outside a strong gorse covert
is apt to become a trifle wearisome, even though you
may occasionally see a fox and hear the cry of
hounds.

There are people — I admire them — who make it
a rule never to be a minute late, however early the
meet may have been fixed, but the majority of these
severely punctual cub-hunters seldom wait to see
hounds go home. For the first hour the con-
sciousness of excessive virtue exudes from them at
every pore, but later on want of sleep, insufficient
breakfast, and general boredom, reduce them to a
state of utter weariness.

On this particular occasion the early bird really
did get the worm, for hounds went away with the
first fox a few minutes after the hour fixed for the
meet. Needless to observe, that bird did not neglect
the opportunity of crowing over those who had
been less punctual.

Hounds ran up-wind to Beeby, then turned

CAPTAIN BURNS-HARTOPP 171

left-handed and marked their fox to ground in the
earths at Spring Hill Spinney. For the first
twenty minutes there were only about half a
dozen men with hounds. I was not there to see
it, but honestly beheve this was a very great
gallop.

Kirby Gate gave us a good run that season,
a fox from Gartree Hill making a six-mile point
and dying gamely in the Belvoir country.

Towards the end of the month the Quorn ran
from Barkby-Holt to Brooksby, and killed their
fox on the banks of the river. Then on the
following Monday the same pack killed a leash
of foxes in the Widmerpool country, so that
Kyte was showing good sport in spite of his in-
experience.

The last Saturday in November brought the
Belvoir a slice of luck in the shape of a rattling
gallop from Sherbrooke's covert. Hounds ran over
some of the best of the vale, and then ascending
the hill killed their fox near Widmerpool — thirty-
five minutes at racing pace.

The previous month had been productive of
great sport ; but December brought with it several
days of frost. Hunting commenced again after
Christmas, and the Cottesmore had an exceptionally
good run from Mr. Peake's covert to Melton
Spinney. The first part of this run was at only
a moderate pace ; but the fox having waited at
Gartree Hill a fresh start was made, and then
hounds ran very fast on to the finish. From
Gartree Hill to Melton Spinney in thirty-five
minutes is pretty good going.

Unfortunately the earths were open or they

172 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

would certainly have caught him in a few more
minutes.

The Quorn run of 19th January from Ashby
Pastures to Grimstone village, where they killed
their fox, is a performance that it would be hard
to beat. I had forgotten that this run belonged
to the season in which the much criticized Kyte
carried the horn, and looking back now I come
to the conclusion that it was one of the best seasons
within my recollection.

The fox from Ashby Pastures deserved the
honours of that day, for he went boldly across the
middle of every field, never touched a covert, and
after crossing ten different parishes yielded up
his brush when he could go no farther. On the
following Friday the same pack had another good
run, but did not kill their fox. They had been
running a twisting fox from Barkby-Holt for some
time, and were expecting every moment to kill
him, when they struck the line of a cunning old
customer who lived in Queniborough Spinney.
Hounds then ran very fast over a beautiful country,
and after completing an eight-mile point were
stopped between Owston and Knossington.

The fastest gallop of the month was with the
Cottesmore, when they ran from Berry Gorse to
Somerby.

Here I come to 24th February when the Cottes-
more had one of the season's best runs. They raced
their fox from the Punchbowl to Owston Wood,
drove him through the length of the wood and out
over Whatborough Hill, then swinging back to
the right killed him in the Lake Spinney. Perhaps
the most enjoyable part was the gallop to Owston

CAPTAIN BURNS-HARTOPP 173

Wood when the close attendants were very Hmited
and select. These are only a few of the good
things that I have picked out ; but it appears to me
there was good sport every day.

Rumours of Mr. Baird's resignation of the Cottes-
more had been floating about for some time ; but
it was about this date that the rumours were con-
firmed, and I know all those who had hunted with
him were sorry he was leaving.

Both January and February were good scenting
months, and all three packs enjoyed a long spell of
first-rate sport. The Bel voir had a very good day
on the first Saturday in March, racing over the
vale and catching their fox. Then, again, the
same pack had a good day at the end of the
month.

Five-and-twenty minutes over the vale with a
kill in the open during the morning and an excep-
tionally nice gallop in the evening, the latter part
of which, from Clawson Thorns to Hose Gorse, was
first class. For some reason the crowd had grown
weary, and when Capell, catching a view of his
fox going away from Clawson Thorns, with the
pack close at his brush, barely a dozen men followed
him. The line at first was along the hillside in
the direction of Piper Hole Gorse ; but the fox
suddenly remembered the earths in the covert
he had started from and dropped down into the
vale. With hounds racing over the best of grass
and no crowd to jostle, that little gallop was to
me one of the most enjoyable moments of the
season.

The Quorn wound up the season in great style,
and the John o' Gaunt run of 12th April I shall

174 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

always consider to be very nearly, if not quite, the
best I have ever seen. When on Monday, the 9th,
a brace of foxes were killed in the morning, and in
the evening hounds ran from the Curate's to the
main earths in Welby Osierbeds, we thought an
extraordinary season had received its finishing
touch. It was a backward spring, the turf was
cool and moist, but had not started to grow, so
that little harm was done.

Many of the regular Meltonians had left ; but
the master was desperately keen and granted us
one more day. The meet was at Keyham, and
several Pytchley men turned up to swell the
throng.

By some happy inspiration the master decided
to draw John o' Gaunt — there the run began and
there it ended. The occupier of the adjoining
lands, and who also looked after the covert, told me
the fox had lain nearly the whole winter in an
adjoining field, and had therefore escaped being
hunted. It happened to be a small arable field,
and the spring cultivation had driven him to the
covert. He was an exceptionally light colour and
was probably a seven- or eight-year-old fox ; but
could hardly have been much older or he would
never have stood the strain of that run. He was
the stoutest fox that I have ever ridden after in the
whole of my hunting experience.

I never enjoyed a run more, and was never
better carried. The old horse I was riding was a
bad refuser when I first had him ; but though he
would occasionally revert to old habits in a slow
hunt, he was very good when near hounds in a fast
gallop.

CAPTAIN BURNS-HARTOPP 175

The run began with a right-handed loop round
Marefield, hounds flying and every one having a
dart, but never dreaming it was only the preliminary
to something much greater.

The season was practically at an end, horses
would not be wanted for another six months, and
every one meant having a ride.

I have never seen hounds run much faster than
they did In that right-handed loop round Marefield,
and in fact some of those who had started badly
never realized how far the pack had gone before
turning. It was on the hill overlooking the Twyford
brook that the fox altered his course ; but I saw
nothing to have headed him. We breasted the hill
towards Halstead as far as Sir Richard Sutton's
old farm, and then swung to the left into the valley
near Tilt on station. Here I made a grievous mis-
take, which relegated me and all who followed me
to positions in the rear. There were two cattle
arches, one with an easy swinging gate and the
other railed up with stiff railway timber. In the
excitement of the moment I found myself confronted
with the latter, and the pack more than half-way
up Whatborough Hill before we were clear.

Yes. I missed that part of the run, and only
saw it from a distance ; but perhaps it was as well,
for it was the least interesting country to ride over,
and I was able to husband my horse's powers for
the return journey. Let me say here that the
outward course was to the south of Owston Wood,
and the homeward to the north.

The big woodlands in this district might have
seemed tempting to the ordinary fox, but our hero
never touched one, and went straight on. Launde

176 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

Wood was on the right hand, Launde Park Wood
on the left, and the field adjoining Prior's Coppice
was the turning point. This was where I managed
to get on terms with hounds again, and not having
bustled my horse, he was comparatively fresh. I
believe the fox went nearly up to Leigh Lodge
before swinging to the left and crossing the
brook.

If you can find a better line to ride than from
Prior's Coppice to John o' Gaunt, leaving Owston
village just to the right, you will have found per-
fection.

Most of the field had rather taken liberties with
their horses over those severe hills on the outward
journey, and, in consequence, the competition for
first go at a fence was not quite as keen as it had
been. Walter Kyte was very well mounted, but
his horse was getting tired, and when near Owston
village I pointed out a hound that had slipped a
field ahead of the pack ; he gladly accepted my offer
to jump some timber and holloa the others on.
Rather think that hound's name was " Haughty,"
and though she had a good nose with plenty of
drive, her tongue might have been used more freely.
Kyte was always ready to follow his pack wherever
they went, and I should not have dreamt of offering
my assistance on that occasion if his mount had
been fresh.

When we were back within hail of John o'
Gaunt, some vigorous holloaing told us our fox was
only just in front ; but then I felt sorry for him,
though a few minutes earlier I had been thirsting
for his blood. Like the gallant hero he was he had
passed the covert, and was continuing his journey

CAPTAIN BURNS-HARTOPP 177

onwards ; but on the railway embankment he met a
party of platelayers, who, holloaing in his face,
obliged him to take refuge in the home from which
he started. There he died a few minutes later, and
thus ended the great run of 12th April.

12

CHAPTER XII

CAPTAIN BURNS-HARTOPP'S FINAL

SEASONS

Season 1900-1901

SOME nice little gallops in October gave pro-
mise of good sport later on ; but the promise
was not fulfilled, and the two first months
were barren of anything approaching first class. In
the previous season the Quorn had the lion's share
of luck ; but in this everything went wrong. Capt.
Burns-Hartopp broke his pelvis the second week
in November, and was in a very serious state for
some weeks. No master could have worked harder
in the interests of the hunt, and, after a summer
devoted to getting things in shape, it was cruel
luck to be laid up for the rest of the season. How-
ever, he was fortunate to have pulled through.

This season was Mr. Evan Hanbury's first with
the Cottesmore, and he is yet another of the good
sportsmen who have passed out of this world during
the war.

The new master had been one of the regular
followers of the Cottesmore for some years, and I
had many a pleasant ride with him. His reputation
at that time for jumping big fences earned for him
the name of " Jumping Josh," and any particularly

forbidding bit of timber from which most people

178

CAPT. BURNS-HARTOPP'S FINAL SEASONS 179

turned away he would charge with fearless ardour.
In those days he was a bachelor ; but that is some
time ago, as the war has claimed his son as one of
its victims.

On Gillson's retirement at the close of Mr. Baird's
mastership, the new master secured the services of
Arthur Thatcher, and with very satisfactory results.
He was, as every one knew, a first-rate horseman
and extraordinarily quick, but he also proved a
very capable huntsman. We have it on the auth-
ority of " Jorrocks " that a huntsman's reputation
is at the mercy of every schoolboy and anyone
who has been out hunting half a dozen times, so
that it is not surprising Thatcher was subject to
some adverse criticism.

It is really very unfair to criticize the methods
of a huntsman from the back row, as unless you
are in a position to see what hounds are doing,
you cannot possibly arrive at a correct judgment
of the situation.

Thatcher was so quick that the majority of the
field never saw what he was doing and in conse-
quence they accused him of galloping his foxes
to death without the aid of hounds.

Those who know anything about hunting, know
that if a pack is not allowed to hunt they are very
soon spoilt, and I have often seen Thatcher with
his hounds persevere on a bad scent to a successful
conclusion.

The Belvoir had some very enjoyable gallops
in the vale, and Sherbrooke's covert proved a never-
failing resort when other places were blanks. The
Cottesmore also had some short gallops, but nothing
that is worth recalling at this distance of time.

180 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

Scent had been provokingly bad all the season ;
but it improved considerably in March, and on
the eleventh of that month the Quorn had a very
fast ring from Walton Thorns, and killed their fox.
This covert is on the edge of the tableland or wolds,
as it is called, and numerous valleys run from it,
so that a ring from here may mean compassing a
wide extent of country. The ring included Sea-
grave and Burton Spinneys, which probably meant
nearly twelve miles of excellent grass.

On the following Friday the same pack had a
smart gallop from Scraptoft Gorse. The start was
not very promising ; but when hounds turned back
from Thurnby station to Scraptoft gardens they
settled down to run hard, and never hesitated or
slacked till they had bowled their fox over hand-
somely in the open between Quenby and the Coplow.

The Bel voir had a most enjoyable run from
Burbidge's covert on 20th March, the fox just
beating them by going to ground in a breeding
earth at Thorpe Satchville. I remember the
occasion well, and that the deputy master led us
to the hill overlooking the covert instead of sub-
jecting us to the usual scrambling start and dash
through the ford.

The deputy acting for Sir Gilbert Greenall
was Mr. " Ned " Griffiths, and he made a most
excellent field master, curbing the too ardent spirits
with a firm hand, but doing it with such a pleasant
manner that no one could feel hurt. That day
was not the sort to expect a scent, a strong wind
was blowing, and other conditions were unfavour-
able; but hounds can generally run a fox which
goes straight.

CAPT. BURNS-HARTOPP'S FINAL SEASONS 181

Mr. Griffiths and Capell were delighted with
their excursion into the Quorn territory, but would
doubtless have been better pleased had they
killed their fox.

Season igoi-1902

My Field letters for the earlier part of this
season are missing, but I don't think there was
much sport. The Cottesmore had two capital
runs on the last day of November. The first was
forty-five minutes, hounds racing their fox to death,
and the second was a straight run from Berry
Gorse to Barleythorpe.

New Year's Day the Belvoir met at Saltby, and
my account reads " the best day of the season
thus far " ; but what appeared to have raised my
enthusiasm more than anything was a flying burst
from Sproxton Thorns to Newman's Gorse. On
this occasion the time was exactly nine minutes,
which, I think, was a record for that distance. Then
a twisting fox from Freeby Wood was raced to death,
the best part of which was fifteen or twenty minutes
in the Chadwell valley. The day ended with a
very excellent run from Goadby Gorse to some
earths in the Belvoir woods near Stathern.

Sport had been moderate all the season ; but
there was a great improvement in March.

The Quorn ran very fast from Cream Gorse by
way of Barsby to the viaduct near John o' Gaunt
station — thirty-two minutes — when they unfortun-
ately switched on to the line of a fresh fox. On
the following Wednesday (5th March) the Belvoir
had a very nice run from Clawson Thorns, and

182 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

killed their fox. The same pack had also a very
good day on the succeeding Wednesday.

A fox from Burbidge's took a nice line J to
Kirby Park, and returning by Great Dalby was
eventually lost near Wild's Lodge.

In the afternoon there was a still further hunt.
A fox found in Freeby Spinney went first of all to
Stapleford Park, and then fearing to cross the river
again followed its banks until he had passed Melton.
Hounds were allowed to do their work without any
assistance, when we had the satisfaction and rather
unusual experience of seeing them hunt up to
within a hundred yards of their fox, and catching
a view race into him. Walter Kyte finished with
this season his short occupation of the post of
huntsman to the Quorn. No man had ever before
been pitchforked into hunting a fashionable pack
of hounds without some previous experience in
kennel and the field. Considering his limited ex-
perience, I think he was extraordinarily successful.
The knowledge he had acquired was from watching
Tom Firr, whilst riding second-horse to that artist.

He was naturally a good horseman, and, with
no fear of the fences, was always in the same field
with his hounds. I thought in this his last season,
that he felt he was being rather severely criticized,
and thus lost confidence ; but when he knew he
was leaving, he did not worry about what people
might be saying, with the result that he killed
nearly every fox he found.

Season 1902-1903
This was Tom Bishopp's first season with the

CAPT. BURNS-HARTOPP'S FINAL SEASONS 183

Quorn, and I remember thinking how well he
hunted a fox with a bad scent on Kirby Gate day.

We had found in Gartree Hill, and eventually
killed near Freeby Wood. This was the first time
I had seen him, being unable to get out cub-hunting.

Bishopp, in his younger days, had earned the
reputation of being one of the hardest and quickest
men who had ever crossed the Grafton country,
but he was getting on in years when he came to the
Quorn. Hunting a fashionable pack of hounds
is a hard and strenuous life, for which a man must
be in vigorous health. Bishopp hunted a fox on
a bad scenting day with extraordinary skill and
perseverance ; but he had lost some of youth's
dash, which put him at a disadvantage in a fast
gallop amidst the Quorn crush.

November proved to be a good scenting month,
and there were several good runs. On the 15th,
the Cottesmore found a fox in Berry Gorse and
killed him close to Thorpe Trussells. Then in the
evening of the same day they raced another fox
to his death from Berry Gorse ; but scent must
have been exceptionally good that day, for I heard
that both the Quorn and the Bel voir ran fast.

A certain amount of frost and snow stopped
hunting a few days before Christmas, but sport
was good on the whole, though without any run
of a sensational nature.

All three packs did well in January until the
frost came again. A seven-mile point with the
Quorn from Brooksby Spinney by way of Ashby
Pastures and across the river near Eye-Kettleby
to a kill on the Fosse near Ella's Gorse, was about
the best. The Cottesmore run from Stapleford

184 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

Park nearly to Waltham was, however, equally
good, and also ended with a kill.

The Belvoir had several fast gallops, but on
Wednesday, nth February, they had two runs
which eclipsed all others for pace. The first one
was from Bescaby Oaks to the artificial earth in
the valley below Freeby ; but nearly the whole
field were left, and hardly anyone saw it. The
second fox was found in Newman's Gorse, and after
an exceptionally fast burst of twenty-five minutes
was killed in Annis' Gorse.

The Quorn had an exceptionally fine hunting
run on 23rd February, finding their fox in Grim-
stone Gorse, and killing him at Stathern as he
vainly tried to reach the Belvoir woods.

Bishopp excelled himself on this occasion, and I
have no hesitation in saying that the run, with its
brilliant finish, was entirely due to him. After
leaving Clawson Thorn, we descended to the vale,
and though scent was only moderate the pace to
Stathern was very good. This is a big village,
and there are so many places round human habi-
tations in which a fox can hide, that we feared he
might escape. I galloped on through the village
and down the road to the station, when I was fortu-
nately able to view the fox. He had not seen or
heard me, and I did not holloa, but just watched
him. To my surprise he went down to the mouth
of a pond and was some seconds lapping up water.

I always want to see a fox killed that has been
hunted, but I must confess that on this occasion
my sympathies were with the weary and thirsty
animal.

In spite of this temporary weakness I rejoiced

CAPT. BURNS-HARTOPP'S FINAL SEASONS 185

with and congratulated Bishopp when a few
minutes later hounds were tearing their victim
to bits. The same pack had another run on the
following Friday, when, after finding a fox in the
Prince of Wales, they ran him round by Gaddesby,
Rearsby and Brooksby, to turn back and kill him
at Barsby.

It was about this time we heard of Lord Edward
Manners' death.

For several seasons he was acting master before
Sir Gilbert Greenall took the Belvoir, and very
excellently he filled the post. I have already said
that Thatcher was a much better huntsman than
those who wished to criticize him would believe,
and I come now to an extraordinary good hunting
run with the Cottesmore, in which I thought he
displayed marked skill. The occasion was on
7th March, when the meet was at Stapleford, and
scent was distinctly bad. The fox was found on
the Burton Flat and not far from Gartree Hill.
First of all, he went towards Melton, and then
bearing to the right passed through Burbidge's
to Brentingby, after crossing and recrossing the
river. He then seemed to change his mind — think
he had found the earth closed — and made a bee-
line for Somerby, but when within hail of that
village swung off to the left.

From this point up to Ranksboro' hounds could
only run in spasms in spite of it being a fine stretch
of good scenting turf. At this covert the second-
whip had galloped on, and was just in time to view
our fox away.

Scent, I think, was improving, and hounds ran
at a brisk pace to Whissendine and from thence on

186 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

to Brentingby ; but the fox had not the strength
to face the river again, and was killed a few minutes
later. I look on this as one of the best hunting
runs I have ever seen, in which hounds and hunts-
men share the credit between them. Most watches
made the time an hour and fifty minutes, though
according to my clock it was exactly two hours.

The run of the season was undoubtedly scored
by the Quorn, and came in the last week's hunting.
To be exact, it was on Friday, 27th March, the day
that " Drumcree " won the Grand National.

The fox was found in Barkby-Holt and ran first
of all to Mr. Carrington's plantation at Ashby Pas-
tures. From thence on the run was practically
straight to the farther side of Barleythorpe, where
hounds ran up to their fox and killed. At the
time I made the point to be about eleven or twelve
miles, but estimated the distance covered to have
been at least twenty. There was only one short
check in the whole run, and it is therefore due to
the huntsman to consider the fox found was the
one killed.

A very similar run took place during Lord Lons-
dale's mastership, about nine years previously, and
that one also started from Barkby-Holt.

My own idea about this later run is that we
changed, or may have done, in one of the gullies
between Burrough and Somerby. The fox killed
was not more than a three-year-old, and I rather
doubt the stamina of that age to have stood up
before hounds over the distance at such a fast pace.
Hounds ran fast enough from Barkby-Holt to Ashby
Pastures to have tired an ordinary fox.

There was a fox in Walter Kyte's time that we

CAPT. BURNS-HARTOPP'S FINAL SEASONS 187

found on several occasion in Mr. Carrington's
plantation and led us a dance into Cottesmore
territory. I rather fancied at the time that it was
this same old customer who had temporarily taken
up his residence in Barkby-Holt. Then there was
a very cunning old varmint who inhabited Queni-
borough Spinney, and was always away before
hounds reached the covert. He generally gave us a
good run, and was lost in the Cottesmore country.
His line was rather similar to the Ashby Pastures
customer — possibly it was the same.
This finished a very good season.
Tom Firr died at the end of 1902, and the fol-
lowing extract from my Field letter of 27th Decem-
ber is my last tribute to that great huntsman.

" My duty as correspondent to this paper would
have called me to attend the Belvoir at Harby on
Saturday had I not felt hunting that day was out of
the question when the great huntsman was being
carried to his last resting-place. The little I know
and all I have learnt about the ' noble science '
has been acquired by watching this wonderful man,
and it was a melancholy satisfaction to be able to
pay the last mark of respect by following him to his
grave. Clad in the sombre garb which custom
ordains, a large body of people had gathered in the
Httle churchyard at Quorn to do honour to all that
remained of the once famous huntsman. Waiting
there in solemn silence, I think most of us recalled
stirring scenes in the past, when our pleasure had
been due to the efforts of Tom Firr to show us
sport. Overhead a dull, leaden sky, a cold, still air,
and fences in the distance clearly outlined in black
relief — verily a day such as this man has often

188 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

described to be his ideal for hunting. Without
pomp or blare of trumpets, as he had lived, so he
passed to the grave. Hunting men are not a class
who give much outward expression to their feelings,
but as the earth rattled down on the cofhn-lid and
we turned away they were few who did not feel some
emotion and whisper, ' God rest his soul.' "

Season 1903-1904

Rain fell heavily in September and October, with
the result that there was some good sport during cub-
hunting. All three packs had some nice little gal-
lops, but the Quorn run from Queniborough Spinney
to Asfordby was perhaps the best.

I notice in my Field letter that the Quorn com-
mittee decided to start " capping " again, and dis-
cussing the question of hunt finances, I ventured to
remind readers that subscriptions were due on the
1st of November. People have rather got into the
habit of looking on a hunt subscription as a donation,
which it does not matter when they pay and is
usually left to the last.

There was nothing of a sensational nature up
to Christmas, but a general average of good sport,
hounds being able to run every day. Perhaps the
best scenting day fell to the Quorn on 21st Decem-
ber, when they had three good gallops. The last
one was from Ella's Gorse to Melton, a seven-mile
point, and most of it being fast. Hounds had to be
stopped owing to the failing light, and the fox there-
fore escaped. This run only wanted a kill at the
finish to have given it a prominent position in the
annals of the hunt.

CAPT. BURNS-HARTOPP'S FINAL SEASONS 189

Scent was exceptionally good with the com-
mencement of the New Year, but I was unable to
take any active part after 28th December. On
that day I took a fall, the effects of which lasted for
ten years, though finishing the day and riding home
fourteen miles.

It was rather a curious fall, and I was never
very clear what really happened, but think the horse
must have struck me on the head with a forefoot.
The horse was one given me by Mr. " Foxy " Keene,
and a very bold hunter. I turned him rather
quickly out of a road at a small place, but to my
surprise he swerved and went sideways into a deep
ditch full of thorns, which was also the village sewer.
I was head down through the thorns and in some
danger of drowning, with my legs sticking up in the
air ; but the reins having caught in my spurs, the
horse plunging pulled me out.

For the next two or three seasons riding was
really more pain than pleasure, and this must there-
fore finish my references to individual seasons.

My last day in 1904 was with the Belvoir on
loth February, when they found a fox in Bescaby
Oaks and killed him near Cottesmore village, which
was a nine-mile point. My head was troubling me
at the time and was not therefore able to see much
of the run, but I managed to see the end, and after a
fourteen-mile ride home on a bad hack, wrote my
account for the Field and retired to bed for ten
weeks.

Taking it all in all, of the runs that I saw and
those my friends told me about, I consider this to
have been one of the best seasons within my ex-
perience. The ground had been thoroughly satur-

190 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

ated with rain, and, as every one knows, provides
the best sport when in that state. I am not alto-
gether of the opinion that the difference lies in the
improvement of scent, but have always thought
that a great deal is due to the sticky nature of the
clay, which clogs a fox's brush and handicaps
very considerably his speed. We all know that
if hounds can keep fairly close to their fox, they
will run well with a moderate scent.

Season 1904-1905

Unlike the previous one, the beginning of this
season was extraordinary dry, and it was really
hardly fit to ride until December. With the ex-
ception of a very smart run on the Quorn opening
day from Gartree Hill to Wyfordby with a kill in
the open, sport was moderate up to Christmas.

Capt. Burns-Hartopp continued his run of
ill-luck by losing the services of his first whip
through a fall in cub-hunting. Will Farmer gave
every promise of being a very efficient whipper-in,
and it must have been a great disappointment to
him to break his leg before the season had begun.
There was a slight improvement in scent with the
beginning of the New Year ; but frost and snow
curtailed most of the hunting days in January.

On 17th February the Quorn finding an outlier
close to Queniborough village ran him to Ranks-
borough, where they unfortunately changed. This
was a very fine run with only a moderate scent,
and the point is over eleven miles. The gallop
of the following Friday was, however, better appre-
ciated, for hounds ran very fast, and rolled their

CAPT. BURNS-HARTOPP'S FINAL SEASONS 191

fox over handsomely in the open. There was a
thick fog that day, and the majority of people had
no idea in what direction they were going.

In the same week the Belvoir had a very smart
five-and-twenty minutes from Newman's Gorse,
when the fox managed to find a rabbit hole big
enough to shelter him. Grand National day again
provided the Quorn with a good run, and finding
a fox in Barkby-Holt they killed him near Ashby
Folville; but the distance was much greater, as
Carr Bridge, Lowesby and Quenby were included
in a wide loop. The next day the Cottesmore had
a smart gallop in the morning and a good hunting
run in the afternoon ; in both instances Thatcher
had the satisfaction of handling his foxes.

Every follower of the Quorn regretted that
Capt. Burns-Hart opp was resigning the master-
ship of that pack. No master has ever worked
harder in the interests of a hunt, and no man has
ever met with such a long series of misfortunes
in his endeavour to show sport ; but, in spite of
cruel luck, he won through in the end. There
were occasional lean times, but, on the whole, the
period of his mastership showed an extraordinary
average of good sport.

I had begun hunting this season as usual, but
found that after two hours in the saddle my head
would not stand it, and, in consequence, was able
to do very little riding.

Some remarks of mine about hunting in " pink,"
which appeared in the Field that season, are here
added, as I think it is a point that should not be
lost sight of.

" On the occasion of the last day's hunting it

192 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

struck me that there was a much larger proportion
of black coats than I had ever noticed before, and
that many regular followers of hounds were clad
in sober colours instead of the regulation pink.
Now this is all wrong, and not as it should be. All
of us who subscribe to hounds or enjoy a stake in
the country ought to clothe ourselves in the proper
costume out of respect to the hunt and its master,
if for no other reason. There are, however, many
other good and sufficient reasons which should
compel us to wear a scarlet coat when hunting
regularly with a pack of hounds. One of these,
which is by no means unimportant, is that men
over whose land we disport ourselves like to see
the scarlet, and that should be quite enough for us.
The unconscious influence of brilliant colouring
on the minds of those who live amongst sober tints
is a fact which is not sufficiently appreciated by
men to whom gorgeous displays are common
sights. The countryman reaps very few advant-
ages from the sportsmen who invade his district,
and we might therefore at least give him the benefit
of a respectable show. It is to our interest, and to
the interest of hunting generally, that the sport
should remain popular amongst those whom cir-
cumstances prevent from taking any active partici-
pation, and we may be sure that popularity would
quickly wane were the scarlet coat to become a
thing of the past.

" We are well aware, or should be if we are not,
that we hunt only on sufferance, and we accept
the privilege of disporting ourselves over the land
without making any acknowledgment. Our fore-
fathers did this in generations gone by, and the

CAPT. BURNS-HARTOPP'S FINAL SEASONS 193

tradition of those days enables us to do it now,
though the conditions are much altered. This
tradition, however, is inseparably connected with
the scarlet coat, and the disappearance of one
would inevitably mean the weakening of the other.
The gaudy garment should not be looked on as an
adornment to the figure it covers, but as a badge
of honour, which entitles the owner to respect, and
at the same time lays on him the duty of universal
courtesy to the man who goes afoot."

13

CHAPTER XIII
CAPTAIN FORESTER TO THE WAR

Seasons 1905-1906-1913-1914

CAPTAIN FRANK FORESTER had hunted
in Leicestershire from a boy, and no man
ever rode straighter to hounds ; but his love
of hunting was greater than his love for a rousing
gallop, so that he graduated early as a huntsman in
Ireland and the provinces. I remember him when
he came out with a groom and a leading rein ; but
he is only about a couple of years younger than I
am.

Although I was not in England in his last season
('17-18) I hear that when he hunted hounds he
was always with the pack, and was going as bril-
liantly as ever.

It was in this year (1905) that the New Quorn
Kennels were finished ; but hounds did not move
until the following May. For something like a
hundred and fifty years hounds had been kennelled
in Quorn ; but what had once been a tiny village
had grown into a town, and was utterly unsuitable
for a pack in modern times. The new kennels are
near Pawdy Cross roads, and though it is not a very
beautiful spot, there are doubtless many advantages
to recommend it. A few trees would be a decided

«94

CAPTAIN FORESTER TO THE WAR 195

improvement, both for appearance and shading
hounds in hot weather.

The best Quorn run of this season was from
Welby Osierbeds to Croxton Park, where the fox
went to ground. It was five-and-twenty minutes
to Brentingby Spinney, with a curve out towards
Thorpe Arnold to increase the distance, and those
who know the country will realize the pace hounds
must have ran.

The Belvoir dated their best run from Waltham
Ashes, though many preferred the gallop from
Croxton Park to Wymondham without a check, and
a kill at the end.

Capt. Forester lent a portion of the Charnwood
Forest country to that good sportsman. Lord
Harrington, who in spite of his threescore years
and ten was not content with four days in his own
country.

A fairly good season, and very few days when
you were not able to get a gallop after hounds and
jump a few fences.

I am sorry to say that huntsman and masters
have got into the habit of complaining about the
want of scent on every occasion when they fail in
catching foxes ; but they seem to forget that such
complaints are reflections on their packs. Any cur
can hunt and go fast with a really burning scent ;
but a hound with a good nose ought to be able to
drive on when the inferior animal cannot own the
line.

I was very severely criticized this season by
some of the old Quornites for altering the name of
a covert — so they said — though I still maintain I
was only reverting to an old name. I must have

196 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

been guilty of the offence in my Field articles for
some years ; but my critics had only just begun to
realize that the name I used had been generally
adopted.

I ventured to call the wood which is close to
Ragdale by that name, and the majority of people
know it now as such. Perhaps I may as well add
here the explanation I wrote at the time, but which
I fear did not appease the wrath of my critics.

" The alteration of an old-estabHshed name
would, of course, be an unpardonable offence, but,
in this instance, it is possibly merely the restitution
of a more ancient title. On a very old map it is
plainly marked ' Rakedale Wood,' which proves
the existence and use of the name before even the
most venerable of my critics was born. Thrussing-
ton Wolds, the name by which they wish to de-
scribe the wood, was the local term which em-
braced all the fiat or wold land in the parish. Within
that area were many patches of straggling, unen-
closed gorse, which held foxes, and with the wood
became eventually known as Thrussington Wolds ;
but that is no reason one should lose sight of the
original title of one particular portion of the wolds.
About the time of Waterloo wheat was making a
big price, and all available land was brought into
cultivation for the purpose of raising crops. The
wolds, which had hitherto afforded a bare existence
for a few lean cattle, and a resting-place for the
travelling fox, was then ploughed up and made to
take its part in producing food for the country.
In the process of time the high prices for wheat
went down, and much of the poor land reverted
to its original state. For generations gorse had

CAPTAIN FORESTER TO THE WAR 197

sprinkled its seed over the wolds, and these quickly
sprung up into robust plants when the plough no
longer disturbed the soil. Mr. Charlton then en-
closed several acres of this self-sown gorse, which,
with the aid of the natural thorn and bramble,
grew into an impenetrable thicket, known for a
time as Charlton's Gorse, or the New Covert, but
which I have always called Thrussington Gorse.
Barely 200 yards distant is the wood which has
caused the dispute about a name. Those who
object to the wood being called Ragdale bring as
their strongest argument that it is in the parish of
Thrussington. This is correct, but the division of
parishes was often made a matter of convenience by
those who collected the dues, and, as the wood be-
longed to the Ferrars family, it should bear the
name of the village in which they resided. Thrus-
sington Wolds includes the wood, the gorse and
the surrounding land, but the name of Ragdale
Wood applies only to the covert in dispute."

On the last Friday in November 1906 the late
master of the Quorn, Capt. Burns-Hartopp, was
presented with the testimonial which had been
subscribed for by those who enjoyed the sport
during his reign, and probably the most gratifying
feature to the recipient was the fact that a large
number of farmers had subscribed.

Mr. Hanbury had given permission for hounds
to meet at Little Dalby Hall, which is in Cottesmore
territory, and it was there the presentation was
made.

Mr. Hanbury must have been then thinking of
his own resignation, as a month later he had sent

198 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

it in, and the Cottesmore country was again vacant.
He, with the assistance of Thatcher as huntsman,
had shown excellent sport, and the affairs of the
hunt had run smoothly, which is always a sure sign
of good management.

The Quorn had an extraordinary run at the end
of February 1907. They found their fox in Barkby-
Holt, and killed him in two hours and twenty minutes
at Newbold. Hounds were running fast most of
the time, and the fox must have been exceptionally
stout to have stood up so long. His point on first
leaving covert was Cream Gorse ; but foot people
and carriages forced him by Baggrave and Lowesby
nearly to John o' Gaunt. He was determined to
make his original point, and in spite of having to
face the wind made a bee-line for Cream Gorse.
However on arriving at that covert he was unable
to find a substitute, and was obliged to wander
down-wind till fate overtook him.

Lord Lonsdale began his reign over the Cottes-
more in 1907, and had as huntsman a son of Gillson,
who was huntsman in the latter part of Mr. Baird's
time. No expense was spared in mounting the
hunt servants, and every detail of equipment was
as perfect as it could be made. An ill-fitting coat
on a huntsman may not spoil his chance of showing
sport, ^but, in the " Shires," a hunt should be as
smart as possible and a pattern to the " provinces."
Those who knew the new master were fully
aware that he would permit no slovenliness in
dress.

I can just remember his father having the Cottes-
more, and to the best of my belief he rode in a
very low-crowned top hat ; but being only a small

CAPTAIN FORESTER TO THE WAR 199

boy at the time am not very certain. At that
time Mr. Tailby had a large sHce of the country.

The Belvoir gallop from Stonesby Gorse to
Wymondham, and thence on to Gunby Gorse, was
probably the fastest of anything seen that season.
Hounds could have gone no faster, and there was
not the sign of a check until they reached Wymond-
ham— a steeplechase with less than half a dozen
men anywhere near the flying pack. The second
portion of the run was at a more moderate pace,
and there was no kill at the finish, so that we may
conclude there was a change somewhere.

The best hunting run of the season in my opinion
was with the Quorn on 21st February, when they
found a fox in the Coplow and killed him at Little
Dalby. The fox was probably an old veteran
who had found out that huntsmen dislike a railway,
and no doubt had often escaped pursuit by sticking
close to the metals. On this occasion he dodged
to and fro across the line several times before
reaching Lowesby station ; but finding then that
these wiles had not shaken off his pursuers went
boldly across the open. Leaving Tilton station
to the right, he changed his course on reaching
the base of Whatboro Hill, and swinging to the
left went straight away to Owston village. The
earlier part of the run had not been over a very
rideable country ; but after the turn it could not
have been improved upon. Hounds and huntsman
both seemed to realize they were hunting a good
fox.

Somerby was left to the right, Burrough Hill
Wood to the left, and it was not until the fox had
almost entered Great Dalby that he bore to the

200 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

right and climbed the hill towards Melton ; but his
bolt was shot, and hounds ran into him at Little
Dalby. This I consider a run that is worth recall-
ing, equally for the stamina of the fox, the per-
severance of hounds, and the skill with which
their huntsman handled them. Scent was not first
class, but it was of a good holding variety, hounds
never lost any time and ran very fast occasionally,
so that for a fox to stand up for an hour and thirty
minutes was a marvellous feat of endurance. A
fox of this kind would run hounds out of scent
nine days out of ten.

This was Bishopp's last season with the
Quorn, and of the many good runs which he
brought to a successful conclusion I think he will
look back on 21st February as his happiest per-
formance.

According to all precedent the Quorn should
have had their opening meet on the first Monday
in November ; but for some reason it was deferred
in 1908 to the following week — it may have been
hard ground, though I can't remember. That
first of the month was, however, a day to remember,
as finding a fox in a turnip field near Thrussington
they killed him at Widmerpool after an ex-
ceptionally brilUant gallop. The new huntsman,
George Leaf, thus made an excellent impression,
both in the way he handled hounds and in his
quickness in riding across country.

The best sport of that season was in the first
month, and the remainder was only moderate,
though all three packs enjoyed some nice gallops
at end of March 1909.

According to my summary of '09-' 10 it was a

CAPTAIN FORESTER TO THE WAR 201

brilliant season ; but, truth to tell, I can remember
very little about it now.

One run only has left its impression my memory,
and that was the occasion when the Quorn found
a fox in Gaddesby Square Spinney and killed
him near Cold Overton. It was the last day of
the year 1909, and the meet was at Queniborough.
The point was eight miles, and the time an hour
and fifteen minutes. It was an ideal line and an
almost perfect run.

I did not enjoy it myself, for the reason that I
was riding an animal with limited jumping powers,
and never went near a fence ; but in spite of that
was alongside of hounds the whole way by use of
either roads or bridle-roads. I was thus able to
estimate the qualities of the run although it gave
me very little pleasure, except perhaps viewing
the fox on several occasions.

At the time Walter Kyte was huntsman to the
Quorn there was a fox who lived in Queniborough
Spinney, and gave several good runs. It would be
hardly possible to imagine that this could be the
same ; but I had a strange feeling all through the
run that we were running the veteran who had
repeatedly beaten Kyte. The pace was only
moderate at the start, but it quickened up after
crossing the road by Barsby school, and from
thence I don't think hounds were touched. The
stream, which is known when it reaches that parish
as the Ashby brook, was kept on the left hand to
within a field of Owston village, when the fox
crossed, and leaving the valley went on up hill by
Somerby brickyard towards Knossington.

I should have liked to have been on the back

202 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

of a good hunter and to have ridden close to hounds
through that run, as it is a line I have always
pictured in my dreams.

Both the Cottesmore and the Belvoir had some
very good runs that season ; but there was nothing
that appealed to me at the time to enable me to
remember now.

The season of 'lo-'ii was extraordinarily open,
and all three packs had good sport. It will, however,
be indelibly associated in my memory with the runs
which the Barkby-Holt customer gave the Quorn.
He had beaten Leaf and his pack on several occa-
sions ; but on loth February the hunstman had his
revenge, and this gallant fox died after completing
an eight-mile point. There was only a moderate
scent, and in my opinion the hero owed his defeat
to having spent his vigour in love-making overnight,
so that he was not in the condition to make his usual
efforts. Then in the initial burst hounds started
away at his brush and gave him a rare dusting for
some minutes, which would of a necessity paralyse
his subsequent efforts. Yes ! and he was strangely
out of luck, for he had managed to dodge hounds
after that first burst, and they had even gone to draw
another covert, then when the veteran thought the
coast was clear some one viewed him, and the pack
were again switched on to his trail.

After that he never had the strength to get far
enough ahead of hounds to give him a chance, and
though he struggled gamely on it was all to no pur-
pose. When viewed below Gartree Hill his weari-
ness was plainly evident ; but he kept on for another
four miles, and was not caught till he reached
Kirby.

CAPTAIN FORESTER TO THE WAR 203

Of course all credit was due to hounds and hunts-
man ; but I cannot help feeling sympathy for the
hunted on this occasion.

We all have to die some time, and he died gal-
lantly as he had lived.

Lord Londsale resigned the mastership of the
Cottesmore at the end of this season, and General
Brocklehurst was appointed in his place.

The opening chapters of the season 'ii-'i2 were
marked by several smart little gallops with all
three packs. General Brocklehurst made an excel-
lent start with the Cottesmore in the first year of
his reign. It was at the commencement of this
season that Capt. Pennell Elmhirst (" Brooksby ")
retired from the active list.

In my opinion he was the pioneer of modern
hunting journalism, and I do not think anyone has
yet ever come up to him in writing a readable
account of a run.

How much the Field owe him for having assisted
in making their paper the leading sporting weekly,
only those who were on the staff forty years ago
could tell, and they must be all dead now.

The Field, it is true, deals with many other sub-
jects besides hunting ; but the " sport of kings " was
the chief factor in increasing its circulation, and I
think they make a great mistake in relegating the
chase to a secondary position. I was paid — very
much reduced rate now — to write for them, and it is
not my business to criticize their editorial methods ;
but quite apart from the money question, I took a
great interest in doing my best to maintain the stan-
dard which " Brooksby " had set up when he wrote
for the Melton district.

204 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

The doings of the " Puddleshire Hunt " have
only a purely local interest, and though they may
have equally good sport very few people want to
read about them. The tendency of the Field nowa-
days appears to be to give prominence to provincial
packs at the expense of the Shires.

There is only one Melton Mowbray, and there is
no country in the world that can compare with the
district surrounding the town.

It is the ambition of every man with any pre-
tensions to ride over fences to make his pilgrimage
to the hunting Mecca, and have at least one day
there before he dies.

The doings of hounds in that neighbourhood are
therefore of world-wide interest, and should not be
hid under a bushel of chaff.

I remember a very fast gallop with the Belvoir
on 13th December 191 1, lasting twenty-five minutes,
and every one said at the time that they had never
seen hounds go such a pace. The fox was found in
Newman's Gorse, and was marked to ground in
Eaton Plantation.

The man who had the best of it all the way was
Mr. " Teddy " Brooks. I don't remember men-
tioning his name before, because he had only risen
to the zenith of his riding powers about 1909, and
was not born when these memoirs started.

I have no hesitation in saying that he was the
best man to hounds who has ever ridden across
Leicestershire. This statement is made without any
reservation, and as I have seen all the leading lights
for the last forty years my experience should give
me the authority to speak.

Mr. " Teddy " Brooks was, I am proud to say,

CAPTAIN FORESTER TO THE WAR 205

Leicestershire bred, and was a great thruster even
as a small boy ; but though very keen and ready to
ride at anything, it was only in the last four or five
years before the war that he rose to the supreme
heights. His hands certainly lacked delicacy of
touch, and he rather preferred a horse that pulled ;
but he never touched his horse's mouth in jumping,
and I have never seen anyone put a horse at a fence
as well. The absolutely perfect horseman should
have good " hands " ; but " Teddy's " were not what
I should call bad " hands," they were merely hard,
and in consequence the horse that suited him best
was one that had lost some of the sensitive feeling
in the mouth.

Why I say that Mr. T. E. Brooks was the best
man to hounds I have ever known, is that I have
never seen anyone follow a pack religiously field
for field, jumping everything as it came, and yet
take so few falls. He rode very short, the modern
method, which I consider the most effective, both
for controlling a horse and relieving the weight on
his hindquarters.

I always compare Count Charles Kinsky with
*' Teddy,*' as examples of the two different styles.

The former was a most perfect specimen of the
old-fashioned seat, which is certainly more graceful
than the modern hunched-up position.

Count Charles was not only an ornament in the
saddle, but was also a first-class man to hounds,
with lots of nerve and splendidly mounted. On
first coming to Leicestershire he rode gallantly at
everything; but the Leicestershire bottom is very
deceptive, at one spot it may be only a few feet in
width, and yet ten yards away on either side it

206 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

becomes a yawning chasm. Zoedone's pilot rode
straight ahead, and never stopped if hounds were
running fast to gauge the probable width, with the
result that he not only took a good many falls, but
broke several horses' backs. " Teddy " rode at
these places with equal confidence, and when they
happened to be extra wide would get over with a
scramble ; but as there was no weight on the horse's
hindquarters there were never any broken backs.
Thirty years ago I should have laughed at the idea
of a man being able to ride across country with his
knees up to the pommel of the saddle ; but we " live
and learn," and experience has taught me that the
modern method is correct.

Poor " Teddy " lies out somewhere in an un-
marked grave not far from Menin, where he fell
when the Leicestershire Yeomanry made such a
gallant stand in the early part of the war.

At the same time Colonel Evans Freke was
killed, and many other good men from the Shires.

I am not going to bore you with any more runs,
as we have now reached the spring of 1912, and I
cannot recall anything very sensational in 1914.
In the September of that year I joined the army,
and was only released in March 1919. One solitary
day's hunting is all I had in that time.

There have been many changes since then.
Lord Lonsdale took the Cottesmore at the outbreak
of war and carried on practically at his own expense
— at the moment of writing he is still the master of
that pack.

Capt. Forester resigned the Quorn in 1918, and
after a short period of a committee. Major Burnaby

CAPTAIN FORESTER TO THE WAR 207

and Mr. W. E. Paget became joint masters. Their
huntsman, Wilson, is, I beheve, a great success ;
but have not yet seen him hunt hounds.

Major Bouch has the Belvoir now in his own
hands, and I understand is hunting hounds himself.

How much hunting I may be able to do in the
future — writing in autumn 1919 — I am unable to
say, as, after having acted as hunting correspondent
to the Field for nearly thirty years, they now say
that they can pay me less than a third of what I
formerly received. It therefore appears likely that
I shall have to follow hounds on foot, as I shall not
be able to keep a horse with hay and corn at its
present price.

In addition to this I have taken unto myself a
wife, and the necessary expenses attached thereto.

I will conclude this volume with an apology for
giving undue prominence to my own doings, and
to the runs I myself enjoyed ; but I was writing
memories of things that affected me personally,
and not the second-hand stories of others.

Like Whyte-Melville, the best of my fun I owe
it to horse and to hound.

CHAPTER XIV
OLD FRIENDS— MEN AND HORSES

THE man who left the strongest impression
on my mind in early days was Mr. Little
Gilmour, though I was only a boy at the time,
and he was then on the shelf as far as hard riding
was concerned. He was a contemporary of my
father's, and their lights were probably brightest
from 1835 to 1855, whilst my arrival into this
world did not occur till i860. Whyte-Melville I can
also recall, an occasional visitor to Melton, with a
kind word for a small boy. A figure that is asso-
ciated in my mind with the same period is that of
Sir John Fludyer. I managed with his assistance
to get to the end of a run from Little Dalby to
Owston Wood, and ever afterwards when able to
have a day with the Cottesmore he took me under
his wing. Much water has flowed by since that
time, and I have met men of all sorts ; but " Sir
John " still remains my ideal of a gentlemen, both
in appearance and manner — kindly, courtly and
considerate.

Capt. "Puggy" Riddle and Capt. "Tom"
Boyce were both regular visitors to Melton before
I emerged from the chrysalis of boyhood. The
latter was with us up to a few years ago, and to the

last looked much as I remembered him forty

208

OLD FRIENDS— MEN AND HORSES 209

years earlier. No one knew exactly how old
he really was, and he was always rather touchy
on the subject. It was said he had been gazetted
a cornet before Queen Victoria came to the
throne ; but that was doubtless a slight exag-
geration. His age was always a joke with friends
who wanted to pull his leg, and hence the point
of the story.

Some stranger seeing the tall chimney of
Asfordby ironworks in the distance, asked Mr.
Pennington what it was, to which that genial humorist
repliedjwithout a moment's hesitation : " Oh ! that's
a monument to the old fellow called Tom Boyce,
who used to hunt here years ago." The said "old
fellow " being out hunting that day, and very
much alive ; but the chimney was known thereafter
as " Tom Boyce's ' onument," much to the disgust
of its godfather.

I cannot remember Captain Boyce in his best
days; but he was very quick, rode blood horses,
and have seen him go well when past his " three-
score-and-ten."

Mr. Pennington emigrated from Yorkshire,
when after trying South Leicestershire and the
fringe of the Cottesmore, he eventually settled down
in the Quorn country. Having married a sister of
Capt. Hartopp, he foreswore his Yorkshire birth-
right and became identified with the county of
adoption. Ever ready to see the humour of a
situation, and to crack jokes at the covertside,
his wit enlivened many a dull moment, and his
power of repartee was only excelled by the eccen-
tricity of his remarks.

This reminds me that I have omitted mention
14

210 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

of a very good run with the Belvoir, which finished
close to Ragdale, where the Penningtons then
lived. The account of the run is missing from my
Field cuttings, and I can only make a guess at the
actual date, but believe it was Wednesday, 13th
March 1889.

Where hounds had met or what had happened
in the morning I have not the slightest idea
now ; but a much reduced field accompanied
Gillard to see him find the afternoon fox at Melton
Spinney.

On the previous Saturday I had bought a horse
at Leicester just over from Ireland, and it was
his misfortune that this occasion should have
been chosen for his introduction to Leicestershire.
It was my usual custom to ride a new horse
first, and have an old friend second, but I rather
think the first horse that day was also a new
purchase.

A fox was away at once and with hounds equally
quick after him, they ran a " cracker," nearly up
to the Waltham road, and back to within a field —
the Melton side — of the starting-point. My youngster
— rising five, but at the time I thought he was a
year older — had carried me brilHantly, and, of
course, I was dehghted with him.

The fox had, I suppose, just made this preliminary
circle to find out if it was necessary to exert
himself further, and then reaUzing scent was too
good to dawdle about, he set his head for a distant
point.

Having secured a good position, I meant seeing
the best of the fun, and incidentally trying still
further the abiUties of my new purchase. The

OLD FRIENDS— MEN AND HORSES 211

pack were streaming away downhill and putting
on the pace. I managed to get first cut at the
brook, which my young Irishman flew in his stride.
There is always a certain amount of satisfaction in
jumping open water, however small ; but the
pleasure is considerably enhanced by getting over
first.

The railway gates at the level-crossing were
flung open by plate-layers who had seen us coming,
and we sailed on uphill to the Scalford road.

My young horse had carried me so satisfactorily
up to this point, that it was with the utmost con-
fidence I launched him at a foot-stile, both high
and stiff. Timber in any shape or form must
have been unknown in that part of Ireland respon-
sible for his education, as he appeared to think it
was a species of fence he could brush through, I
hit the ground somewhat heavily ; but he had such
extraordinary good shoulders that he only came
on his head, and in a lightning-like recovery put a
foot through my top-hat. There was a smaller
stile into the road, but the first one had taught
him a lesson which he never forgot during his
sixteen seasons in Leicestershire.

There was a slight check in the road, and then
hounds settled down again to run hard. The
Nottingham turnpike was crossed near Sysonby,
and from there we went straight on to Welby,
where, I think, the fox was headed, as he bore
right-handed for a field in the direction of Ab-
Kettleby before resuming his original course.

Hounds at this time were running on con-
tinuously and running fast, though not racing.
I cannot now recall every field we went into, but

212 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

Saxelby Wood, Lord Aylesford's and Shoby Scoles
were all left to the right.

The fast part of the run came to an end at the
main earths in the Hoby Vale, and from there hounds
hunted on to a stick heap near Thrussington Grange.
The majority of horses that were left could barely
raise a gallop at this period, and though we should
have liked to see the fox killed, the pack would
have run away from us in a few more fields.

This was an exceptionally fine run, and of those
who reached the end there are probably not many
now living ; but the survivors will not easily forget
that day. The point from where hounds turned
back in the preliminary ring is rather more than
nine miles.

Only a fox of extraordinary staying power
could have lived through it, and still carried on.
My own idea is that this was the same fox the
Quorn found the following season (23rd December)
at Walton Thorns, and running him the reverse
way killed at Welby. That is the run I have
already alluded to as the best I have ever seen.
Besides several other features which were very
similar, both runs began with rings. It was this
gallant fox's bad luck to have been found on this
latter occasion, when scenting conditions happened
to be quite perfect and hounds were glued to the line.

After the Belvoir run the hunt servants, and
the few who had struggled to the finish, went to
Mr. Pennington's to refresh. I remember poor old
Gillard, in his courtly manner, thanking his host
and hostess for their hospitality, and also the final
remark with which he bowed himself out, " I will
inform his Grace on our return of your very great

OLD FRIENDS— MEN AND HORSES 213

kindness to us." This, of course, amused Mr.
Pennington vastly, and he quoted it for many
years afterwards.

Amongst Gillard's numerous duties was a report
to the Duke of each day's sport, and I beheve he
never failed either to write an account or to give
the details personally.

After a feed of gruel my youngster went home
apparently none the worse for his severe day ; but
when I sold him by auction the following autumn
he was returned as a whistler, which was probably
the result of his exertions. I subsequently sold
him to a lady, who rode him in Leicestershire for
many seasons. He was a horse of extraordinary
character, knew more than most men, could open
any box door not fastened on the outside, and would
kill rats as quick as a terrier. Like many other
good hunters he was a shockingly bad hack, and
though he never came down he had an alarming
way of stumbling over trifling obstructions. I had
named him Shylock, and by that name was known
to his death.

Talking of Mr. Pennington reminds me of Capt.
" Chicken " Hartopp, who was probably one of
the best known characters of the " eighties." He
was hunting in Leicestershire regularly when I first
commenced ; but subsequently went to Ireland,
where I think he had the Kilkenny hounds for one
or two seasons, and unless I am mistaken Fred
Earp whipped in to him. His father, the squire
of Little Dalby, was alive then, and he doubtless
found " the Chicken " an expensive luxury to
maintain.

" The Chicken " never lost an opportunity of

214 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

playing a mad prank, and a history of his numerous
practical jokes would fill a volume. He was always
ready for a fight, and could hold his own in a
scrap ; but his great delight was to blow up something
with dynamite, and he had some very narrow
shaves of killing himself with that explosive.
Popular with every one and beloved by those who
knew him intimately, his comparatively early
death cut short a career, which might have accom-
plished something, when attaining years of sober
discretion.

Capt. Hartopp had a very powerful voice, was
very fond of singing, and in great request at village
concerts. He and his friend Major " Sugar "
Candy had an argument as to which could sing
the best, and with a small wager on the result
they competed against each other on the stage
at the Aquarium. At the time that building,
amongst other entertainments, ran a sort of variety
show, and was under the management of a well-
known character "Fatty" Coleman, who was
asked to act as judge.

" Fatty " told me about it many years later,
and in the presence of Major Candy. Neither of
the competitors would have made a fortune at a
concert hall; but it was a good race, and "the
Chicken " was eventually placed first. Both men
usually treated hfe as a joke and tried to get
the maximum of fun out of it ; but on this occasion
they were desperately in earnest and very serious in
their efforts.

The competitors and judge have all three now
left the stage of hfe, but none of them will be
forgotten by friends who are still aUve.

OLD FRIENDS— MEN AND HORSES 215

I think Major Candy has already been men-
tioned as a very good rider, with excellent hands ;
but in his younger days I believe he was very
successful " between the flags," and have heard
on one occasion in Ireland he won five races out
of six.

Captain " Doggie " Smith was probably in his
prime before my riding days started; but I never
remember to have seen him anywhere, except
in the front rank with hounds. When he left
Leicestershire he retired to Sussex, and is still
hunting there; but, as lately as Capt. Forester's
mastership, he paid his old haunts a visit, and
was jumping everything, though well over seventy.

With beautiful hands, good judgment and
splendid nerve, he always got the best out of his
horses without overtaxing their powers.

I cannot recall anyone with whom it was such
a pleasure to ride a run as Captain Smith, for he
had not a spark of jealousy, and was invariably
in a good temper, or if not, had the tact to hide it.
He is one of the few men of whom I have never
heard anyone say an unkind word.

Mr. Arthur Coventry it was always a pleasure
to see on a horse, and his abilities in race
riding are well known. Mr. George Lambton's
was a familiar figure in Leicestershire at one time ;
but he forsook Melton for Newmarket, and we
seldom see him now.

There have been many changes in the hunting
visitors to Melton since I first started hunting
regularly in 1879, ^^^ there are few of the old lot
left.

Mr. Arthur Pryor is still at Egerton Lodge,

216 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

which house will always be associated in my mind
with Lord Wilton — " the old Earl " — and his son,
Lord Grey de Wilton.

It was some time in the "eighties" that the
"Bell" sheltered a very hard-riding crew, the best
of whom were Mr. Alfred Brocklehurst, Mr. " Buck "
Barclay and Count Charles Kinsky.

Lord Cowley did not hunt with us regularly,
but paid frequent visits, and was always in the
first flight, though like others he was rather in-
clined to press the pack too closely. Lord Chol-
mondley was also an occasional visitor, and a
very fine horseman, not afraid to gallop ; but it was
as Lord Rocksavage he was best known at Melton.

I think it must have been in th arly " nineties"
that " the Tenth " were quartered at York, and
there were always some of them at Melton. Good
men to hounds all of them, and in a fast gallop
you might be sure of seeing them in the front rank.
There was Mr. Joe Lawley, Mr. Kavanagh, Lord
" Bill " Bentinck, Mr. Bryan and many others,
who I can't remember now; but, unless I am
much mistaken, Mr. Ned Baird belonged to that
regiment.

They were a particularly nice and cheery lot
of men, as well as exceptionally fine riders.

Later on Count Zbrowski came to Coventry
House, and inaugurated the American invasion ;
many of those who stopped with him his first
season became regular visitors in succeeding
winters.

I remember my first meeting with Count
Zbrowski was a morning cub-hunting at Gartree
Hill, and I think Major Candy introduced me to

OLD FRIENDS— MEN AND HORSES 217

him with the remark, that I would ride some of
his new horses over Leicestershire for the benefit
of their education. However, Zbrowski was a
very fine horseman, and could do that equally
well himself ; but he had at the time a horse they
called the bone-breaker, which he said he would
be very pleased if I would ride, supposing I did
not mind the risk of a fall. He had apparently
earned his name by breaking the collar-bone of
those who had ridden him; but I was short of
horses then, and could not afford to be too parti-
cular. The first time I rode the horse he was sent
on to the meet for me, when I noticed his mouth
was bleeding. Afterwards I always rode him on
myself, and found he had a very fight mouth.
The cause of his falling was being ridden by heavy-
fisted men, and he carried me brilliantly without
ever making a mistake, until his owner realized
what a first-class hunter he was.

A few seasons later I used to buy horses during
the winter and spring, seUing them by auction the
following October.

It, however, rather spoils the pleasure of hunting
when you have to consider the damage you may
do to your mount, and the risks of laming him.

I had a few fairly successful sales ; but the horses
were nearly always bought by people from a dis-
tance, as my known reputation for extreme poverty
in Leicestershire made those who knew me think it
impossible I could have a good horse. The only
horse ever bought by anyone who had seen me rid-
ing them was a chestnut Lord William Bentinck
gave about a hundred and twenty for at my sale. I
had not recommended him, but he had noticed him

218 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

carrying me well, and the horse was certainly a
fine performer. Unfortunately his new owner took
him up to Yorkshire, where the heavy plough
found out his weak point — a very pronounced
" dishing " with one foot. This did not affect him
on the grass; but in the deep "going" it rendered
him helpless, and I fear proved a disappointing
purchase.

The best horse I ever owned, and the only one
on which it seemed a waste of time to jump small
fences, I bought from a farmer for twenty pounds.
He originally belonged to Mr. H. T. Barclay, and hav-
ing broken down was given to the farmer. Being
fired and allowed a year's rest with occasional work
in the plough team, he was quite sound when he
came to me. Doubtless he would have carried me
for many seasons had I not aspired to win a race
with him ; but in addition to being a wonderful
jumper was very fast, and was only cantering when
most hunters were galloping. It had long been
my ambition to win the Ladies' Purse at the Melton
Hunt meeting, and this seemed my opportunity.
Unfortunately that spring the ground dried up very
quickly, and it was as hard as a turnpike road. The
result was that I was unable to give him a winding-
up gallop, and in the race itself dare not press him to
keep his place on that part of the course which was
slightly downhill. Later on he made up lost ground,
and was close up fourth in a large field, finishing up
without being the least bit distressed, but I have al-
ways thought that with the " going " soft I should
have won easily.

The race went to a very good horse belonging
to Mr. Nathaniel Gubbins, ridden by that ex-

OLD FRIENDS— MEN AND HORSES 219

cellent rider and first-rate sportsman, Capt. Fitz
Amcotts.

I do not think the original owner, Mr. " Buck "
Barclay, ever realized what an exceptional horse he
had owned, and if only he could have been kept
sound the highest honours of steeplechasing were
within his grasp. He was named Baa-baa, and was
by Last of the Lambs, though what his dam was I
never heard, but am quite sure she was clean bred.

Another good horse I owned was bred by Mr.
Barclay, who gave him to me as a four-year-old,
when he was small and seemed unlikely to grow.
He however developed later, and eventually reached
sixteen hands.

I was very fond of the horse — christened Buck
after the donor — and hated parting with him ; but
was offered a good price and had to sell. He was
very clever, and I had taught him to jump into his
stride with the first sound of " gone away," so that
I was nearly always sure of getting a good start, and
as I generally rode him with the Belvoir in the days
when that pack were famed for their lightning
bursts, being " quick off the mark " was all impor-
tant.

I bought a black horse at Leicester one autumn
that I rode for many seasons, and he never left my
hands until I had him shot. He was a great favourite
and a brilliant hunter, but had some peculiarities,
one of which was a great objection to allowing
another horse to jump a fence in front of him.
Bone spavins, which grew worse with age, prevented
him flexing his hocks, and in consequence he liked
to take his fences at a hand-canter. Like every
other horse, he knew at once the place you had

220 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

picked in the next fence, however distant it was,
and nothing annoyed him more than if circum-
stances obhged you to change your mind. The
only falls he ever gave me were on those occasions
when I was obliged to pull away from the place and
seek another. Yes ! I had forgotten he gave me a
fall jumping some timber out of the grass roadway
under Borrough Hill. It was rather a drop and I
had steadied him, when just as he was taking off,
a man, who should have known better, jumped
alongside of me, touched my horse, and he rolled
over into the ditch. The ditch happened to have
a very sharp bank, and the horse was on his
back with the whole of his weight resting on my
knee. It was an absurd position, but very painful,
and the man who was the cause of it never turned
his head to see if I was free.

Luckily for me a lady riding by noticed my
predicament, and went for assistance. There was
a small ladder close at hand, which, being used as a
lever under the horse's quarters, speedily set me
free. Mr. " Cis " Howard, an occasional visitor
to Melton, was the good Samaritan who came to my
assistance.

That black horse I called Liberty, from some
connection with his reputed breeding, which was
Irish, as was also his education, and he was a made
hunter when I bought him. I usually rode him
with the Quorn, and he seldom missed his two days
a week.

Another very exceptional horse was one I
bought from Mr. Edmund Leatham called " Brig-
adier," by " Old Victor." He had earned a big
reputation in the show ring under the ownership

OLD FRIENDS— MEN AND HORSES 221

of that well-known Yorkshire dealer, Mr. Andrew
Brown, and I believe had won the championship in
London.

Up to great weight, and with lots of quality, he
was, of course, worth a good deal, and I think Mr.
Leatham gave three hundred for him, which was
considered a big price then. As I have already
said, my friend Edmund Leatham was one of the
best and boldest men who ever crossed Leicester-
shire, but he had undeniably heavy hands. Now
" Brigadier " had really a very good mouth, but hav-
ing gained a reputation for pulling, his new owner
put on him a heavy, long-checked bridle, with the
result horse and rider were always fighting, usually
finishing up their day, one with aching arms and
the other with bleeding mouth. I gave fifty pounds
for him, which was more than he was really worth
at the time, as he had ricked his back, was supposed
to be a whistler, and might never be sound again.
However, a summer's run put him right, and when
he found his mouth would not be hurt, he never
pulled an ounce. I rode him several seasons,
and finally broke him down one day with the
Belvoir.

Amongst the many horse-dealers I have known,
the majority of them were good fellows and first-
class horsemen ; but the one who I have always said
rode to hounds like a gentleman and not like a
horse-dealer was Will Gale. I use the word gentle-
man in this instance to indicate a man who rides
hunting for the pleasure of being with and seeing
hounds — the selling of his horse being a secondary
consideration.

I have had the pleasure of riding to hounds in

222 MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

the company of Gale for many seasons, and I look
on him as one of the best men I have known.

Mr. " Sam " Hames I consider is one of the finest
horsemen of my acquaintance ; but if he will forgive
my saying it, I think with him the horse comes
before the hound.

I have written of men and horses in this gar-
rulous style as they have occurred to me, but will
worry the reader with no more.

Of all the good men herein mentioned, I again
repeat that Teddy Brooks was far and away the
best — there will never be another.

INDEX

Amcotts, Mr. Fritz, 219
Astley, Sir John, 135

Baird, Mr. E., 79, 216

Baird, Mr. W., 78, 173

Baldock, Mr. E., 125

Barclay, Mr. H. T., 34, 67, 89, 216

Beatty, Lord, 127

Beckford, Mr. Peter, 3

Bentinck, Lord Henry, 35, 69, 95, 102,

109
Bentinck, Lord William, 35, 21 6
Bentinck, Lord Charles, 35
Blew, Mr. W. C, 169
Bouch, Major T., 207
Boyce, Captain, 209
Brocklehurst, Mr. A., 34, 132, 58, 67
Brocklehurst, General, 203
Brooks, Mr. T. E., 204, 206
" Brooksby." See Elmhirst
Bryan, Mr., 216
Bullen, Rev., 29
Bunbury, Mrs., 96
Burnaby, Mr. A., 126, 207
Burnaby, Colonel, no
Burns-Hartopp, Captain, Presentation

to, 197

Callander, Mr. Henry, 36
Candy, Major, 24, 135, 214
Chaplin, Cecil, 36, 161
Chaplin, Mr. Ernest, 32, 127
Chaplin, Mr. William, 126, 129
Cheney, Mr. Edward, 25, 29
Coventry, Mr. Arthur, 136, 215
Cowley, Lord, 216
Craddock, Mr. J. D., 169
Cunard, Sir Bache, 37
Cunard, Mr. Gordon, 37
Cunningham, Mr. Charles, 80

Dale, Mr. T. F., 10

Davenport, Mr. H. S. (" H. S. D. "),

63
Deschamps, Mr. Emile, 80

Elmhirst, Captain Pennell ("Brooks-
by "), 5. 32, 205

Fane, Lady Augusta, 123
Farquhar, Mr. Granville, 36, 78
Firr, Mr., Presentation to, 167
Firr, Mr., Death of, 187
Fludyer, Sir John, 208
Forester, Captain F., 93
Forester, Colonel, 26, 27
Freke, Colonel Evans, 206
Frewen, Mr. Edward, 86

Gardner, Lord, 25
Gerard, Lady, 95
Gilmour, Mr. Little, 25
Gradwell, Mr., 99
Grant, Sir Francis, 27
Greenall, Sir Gilbert, 155
Greene, Mr., 24
Grey de Wilton, Lord, 28
Griffiths, Mr. E, 180

Hames, Mr. Sam, 222
Hamilton, Duchess of, 96
Hanbury, Mr. Evan, 178, 197
Harrington, Lord, 104, 195
Harter, Mr. Hatfield, 37
Hartopp, Mr. E. B, 14
Hartopp, Miss, 106
Hartopp, Captain, 213
Haycock, Mr. T., 25, 29
Howard, Mr. C, 220

Jarvis, Mr. Weston, 102
Johnson, Mr. Samuel, 3

Kinsky, Count, 34, 53, 216
Kaunitz, Count, 34
Kavanagh Mr., 216
Keene, Mr. Foxhall, 189

Lambton, Mr. George, 215
Lawley Mr. ("Joe"), 216
Leathara, Mr. Edmund, 34, 67

223

224

MEMORIES OF THE SHIRES

Logan, Mr., 37
Lonsdale, Lord, 134, 150, 198
Lowther, Colonel, 18
Lowther, Mr. Hugh, 37
Lowther, Mr. Launcelot, 149
Lubbock, Mr. Beaumont, 36, 56

Manners, Lord Cecil, 158
Manners, Lord Edward, 155, 185

Owen, Captain Roddy, 98

Paget, Mr. W. E., 207
Peake, Mr. Walter, 47
Pennington, Mr. Alan, 209
Portland, Duke of, 47, 59, 69
Pryor, Mr. A. V., 49, 215

Rawlinson, Sir Henry, 126
Riddell, Captain, 32, 208
Rocksavage, Lord, 216
Rolleston, Sir John, 117
Rutland, Duke of, 155

Seabrook, Rev., 37, 67
Shrewsbury, Lord, 134
Simpkin, Mr. T., 82
Smith, Captain A., 31
Sturgess, Mr. John, 135
Surtees, Mr., 4
Sutton, Sir Richard, iii

Wade, Mr. Tempest, 117
Walsh, Mr., 63
Warner, Captain, 126
Whichcote, Sir Thomas, 38
Whyte, Mr. Melville, 5
Wilkinson, Rev. J., 29
Williams, Captain, 147
Wilson, Mr. Gordon, 125, 126
Wilton, Lord, 25, 216
Wyndham, Colonel, 28

Yarborough, Lord, 29

Zbrowski, Count, 35, 93, 94.

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