1866} ROBERT WORRALL. 285 



interCvst, we believe, not only to the present, but to a future 

 generation of sportsmen. 



Everyone who hunted with the Squire of Charlecote 

 remembers Bob Worrall well. His bronzed sporting face, 

 his cheery smile, his neat figure, and capital seat on a 

 horse, and his delight in talking about hounds, horses, and 

 men — ever}4;hing and everyone, in fact, connected wdth the 

 chase — his respectful demeanour, and his excessive keenness 

 made him a universal favourite wherever he whipped in to 

 or hunted hounds.* Though he might have been a trifle 

 too fond of the horn, it was a beautiful sight to see him 

 l)ringing his hounds out of covert, and charging the first 

 fence, it may be on Taglioni, without removing it from 

 his lips ; while a ride home with Bob and the hounds, how- 

 ever far the distance and however tired your horse, was 

 never altogether a dull entertainment. I went to see him 

 in October, IS 94, when my friend, Captain Cooper, of 

 Hemel Hempstead, kindly asked him to come up for an 

 interview. The two hours that I could spare for his 

 reminiscences seemed all too short. I wdll try and tell the 

 story of his hunting life as he told it to me over just one 

 glass of old port in the billiard room at 27/ e Zocl-ers-.f 



" I was entered young at Kineton, in 1846. Stevens 

 was bringing the hounds home, and happened to stop outside 

 our door. I went to the hounds, and began to pat them ; 

 an old hound licked my face. ' Are you fond of hounds, 

 youngster ? ' said Stevens. I said I was, so he sent for me 

 to be kennel boy when I was only eleven years old. I 

 remember your father, sir, the late lord, being married, 

 and the rejoicings at Kineton. In 1848 Stevens asked me 

 if I could manage to walk to Mr. Drake's kennels at 

 Buckuall, which is twenty-five miles, and my age was 

 thii-teen. I took two couples, went to Banbury, had a 

 glass of porter and some bread and cheese — all I had on 

 the journey — got to Bucknall just before they came in 

 from hunting. I had a letter for Mr. Wingfield, the 



* He was a tliorougli gentleman's servant. 



t So called from Anne Boleyn having been once confined there. 



