I03 HUNTING RECOLLECTIONS. 



plums." I must confess to considerable enjoy- 

 ment out of that pretty gallop on Wednesday 

 with the Belvoir, after a morning spent in that 

 horse breaking country called the Heath, where 

 every other field almost is a cover, and no one 

 remembers the correct name of any one of them. 

 I think, however. Stoke Wood was the place 

 where we got on a traveller, who took us into a 

 country Httle known to me, and although they 

 did not kill their fox whilst I stopped it was a 

 good go. 



The bye-day of the Quorn on Thursday 

 inaugurated twelve o'clock meets, which warns 

 one how soon all will be over. Gaddesby is the 

 trysting place, and a fit and proper place, too, 

 for no name stands higher on the muster roll of 

 Leicestershire sportsmen, past and present, 

 than that of Cheney, and, notwithstanding his 

 serious illness two years since, it is a treat to see 

 him now put one of his favourite chestnuts at a 

 big place as cool as a cucumber. A perfect 

 spring morning and not much to do from Cream 

 Gorse, where hounds were blooded on Ashby 

 Pasture, which is too near ; but after some time 

 spent in this locality, we find ourselves ready for 

 anything, at Thorpe Trussells — name engraven 

 on the heart of every Leicestershire sportsman 

 — for who has not seen many a good spin from 

 this favoured spot.'^ A fox is at home, but he 

 soon moves, and is away over the road, and dips 

 down into the valley. Oh ! it was a merry ring ; 

 he ran at his best pace, hounds well on, and 

 going as the Quorn can go ; and had it been 

 straight, where would have been the crowd .'^ 



