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 



