108 FOX-HOUND, FOREST, AND PRAIRIE. 



home. A pleasing point in the day was the return to Melton 

 of Mr. and Mrs. Gerald Paget. One swallow may not make a 

 summer, but the earlier birds herald the approaching flock ; 

 and so, from this and other signs that reach us, it seems reason- 

 able to hope for the speedy return of many Meltonians that 

 have been beguiled to hunt elsewhere. It is safe to assert that 

 they have not all profited by their change of quarters ; and, 

 though none of us wish to see Leicestershire fields any larger 

 than at present, I venture to ask — not of a single season's merit 

 — but if in a term of ten years a higher average of good and 

 pleasurable hunting is to be had anywhere else ? If the answer 

 be Yes, pray let the scene be pointed out, and the country that 

 is at least good enough from year to year be thinned for our 

 comfort. Speaking of absentees, though, brings one's thoughts 

 at once to Mr. Little-Gilmour, the oldest by far of those whose 

 names are linked with Melton. His kindly face and pleasant 

 courteous greeting have been absent from the covert-side all 

 this season ; and it is quite doubtful whether the hardest rider, 

 and gentlest man, of his generation will ever take the saddle 

 again. 



Cruel indeed is it to have lost, through frost and snow, 

 several days out of the final month of hunting. Better March 

 dust than March debility, on the part of a season hitherto 

 so hearty and vigorous. That snow should have stood in the 

 way of Great Dalby on Friday and Pick well on Saturday 

 — that frost should have prevented Six Hills on Monday and 

 Launde Abbey on Tuesday — is hard upon unphilosophic minds 

 pinning all their faith to a pursuit that, after all, is frivolously 

 dependent upon mere details of weather. March is the month 

 of all others in which we least care to see hunters standing idle 

 in the stable. From other causes — the hundred and one acci- 

 dents of the hunting field — there are only too likely to be some 

 taking a rest already. And singularly unappetising do these 

 look — their coats disfigured with all sorts of queer patches 



