HUNTING RECOLLECTIONS. 103 



But, luckily, the ring let us all have a cut in, and 

 back at the cover there was a respectable muster 

 — those who had been the whole journey show- 

 ing plenty of signs of the severity of the journey 

 — but not long to wait, for he is away again on 

 the other side this time, and we went a journey 

 often travelled before over hill and dale, and at 

 last up Brough Hill, which finds out all weak 

 points, and detects the slightest noise. But I 

 have seen roarers get up as well as sound horses, 

 and a little music is no new thing in Leicester- 

 shire. Pull up for a minute as you crown the 

 hill, and your friend comes up making an awful 

 row (I mean his steed). " Hark at the train," 

 says a wag close by. " Oh, I beg pardon, my 

 dear fellow! I thought I heard an engine." 

 And so it was, but good enough, for all that to 

 carry him along the top close under Pickwell, 

 where the fences are not to be despised, and at 

 last up to Leesthorpe, where pace died away, 

 and the most delicious fifty minutes a man could 

 ride to came to an end. Of course we all wanted 

 to see the finish, than whom no one was more 

 anxious than Captain Hartopp, who certainly 

 wears the belt amongst welter weights, and it is 

 a blessed marvel how he gets over a country — 

 down, down into the valley, but slowly and with 

 only a cold Hne, we hunt him on to Berry Gorse 

 and drop at 17. 



Allured iDy the fascination of the craft, in 

 common with all hunting men here, I joined 

 them at a Masonic Ball at the Town Hall, and a 

 right jolly evening we had. It might have been 

 a hunt ball from the number of scarlet coats 



