Life at Limber 



" a goose is an uneasy kind of bird, too much for one and not 

 enough for two." 



The conversation did not flag at our dinners, but the palm 

 was held by Maunsell, who was well able to talk us all down. 

 And looking back now I cannot wonder, for he talked intelli- 

 gently, and even if he shouted at times, he shouted either home 

 truths or, better still, tried to improve us all in our knowledge 

 of the hunting country — its obstacles and difficulties — the 

 working of hounds, and generally to instruct us in the way we 

 should go for our own good in every particular. 



Not one of us round our dinner-table dare have funked a 

 negotiable fence ; in fact, it would have taken far more moral 

 courage to do this than to jump the obstacle, however formid- 

 able. But we were a hard-riding lot, and in those days fear 

 and ourselves were strangers. For we had our plucky little 

 Countess of Yarborough with us most days, and although she 

 could show nearly the whole field her heels across country, at 

 any rate we tried to follow her intrepid lead. After dinner, 

 when we foregathered in the drawing-room, peace reigned. 

 There was no card-playing, for none cared to gamble, and few 

 even to play at all. Drinks would come in, but they would go 

 out again untasted night after night, for there were no drinkers. 

 Only my eldest brother smoked, neither Maunsell nor "Mr. 

 Roily " ever indulging in the weed. And so in three respective 

 chairs they would sleep " all peaceful," and I, rejoicing to see 

 them quiet and contented, would either work or read until the 

 sleepers awakened, and went off to their respective beds, to 

 dream of the past day's sport and look forward to the 

 morrow. 



One day Lord Minto reminded me that I used sometimes 

 to sing to them. Well, perhaps I helped to soothe them to 

 sleep ; if so, my voice of byegone years has not been wasted 



77 



