172 The Chase 



Fox-hunting ^> ^o^ ^c^ 



1790-1810 



THE closing and opening decades of the two 

 centuries found hunting sound to the core. 

 Meynell was " King of Quorn." Tom Oldaker, 

 of " Huntsman's Hall," in his yellow plush coat 

 almost to his ankles, woke up the beech woods of 

 Chilton and the wild ridings of Easthamstead, with 

 the sharp bugle notes, which told that he had gone 

 away, and the still more tuneful La Mort. The 

 lady of Hatfield was first in the field, and last at the 

 ball. Mr. Coke's hounds hovered between Castle 

 Hedingham, Holkham, and Epping. The Duke 

 of Grafton's dwarf pack were busy in Salcey Forest 

 and the vast Whittlebury woodlands. Dick Knight's 

 cheer was heard in Sywell Wood, and foxes were 

 dying an honourable death of old age in Bedford 

 Purlieus, despite all the talent of Will Dean. 

 Petworth, Woburn, Brocklesbury, and Belvoir, had 

 each a family pack ; and Cheshire mourned for its 

 Bluecap, to which it subsequently erected an obelisk. 

 Tom Grant was getting up and down the hills of 

 Sussex like a flash on his chamois-footed steeds. 

 Mr. Chute took everything that was too small for 

 Tom, and kept up the glories of The Vine, which 

 " The Iron Duke" nurtured so well in after years, 

 and three times saved from grief. Lord Stawell 

 was in the Holt Forest country, and Mr. St. John 

 gradually changed back from hare to fox. Mr. 

 Poyntz looked upon the killing of a May fox and 

 a dance round the May-pole, when the Prince was 

 at Albury Grange, as two vital points before he 

 returned to Cowdray. The hounds and Tom 

 Crane were always kept on the right of the line. 



