The Life of a Great Sportsman 



hunting with the Cottesmore, in concluding a graphic descrip- 

 tion of the day's sport on the opening day, she wound up 

 with — "and you can't think how we all missed the dear old 

 1 Cat ' ! " Who is there, I would ask, amongst those that knew 

 him — whether Peer or Peasant — who doesn't echo her words ? 



[It is said, and in ordinary cases doubtless very truly said, 

 that no man is a "hero to his valet," but in the following 

 impression of my brother very kindly written for me by Mr. 

 J. Fulford, who lived in his service first as valet, then butler, 

 from 1892 to the time of his death, 191 2 — 20 years — it will 

 be seen that my brother was an exception to the rule. 



Once before, during my life, I had the honour many years 

 ago of meeting one other such exception in the person of the 

 late George MacDonald. 



At that time I knew Miss Bishop rather intimately, a lady 

 who was admitted behind the scenes and thoroughly con- 

 versant with the details of the daily life of the wonderful 

 MacDonald family, a privileged and trusted member of his 

 household. I remember well that I asked her to tell me 

 whether Mr. MacDonald was really the hero in private life 

 that so many people believed him to be who only knew him 

 in his more public capacity. Her answer was quick and un- 

 faltering, " Far, far more so, if possible."] 



From J. Fulford, his Valet. 



My first recollection of Mr. J. M. Richardson is when I 

 was a boy at Limber when my father was farm bailiff to his 

 brother, Mr. William Richardson, and we schoolboys used to 

 watch Mr. Maunsell Richardson's horses being trained over 

 the fences, training them for the big races he used to ride, 

 and generally win. He always had a cheery word for us 



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