24 Ikings ot tbe Ibunttng-fftelb 



of infernal machines from making a dash at Cronstadt, 

 for all its boasted impregnability. 



Like his father and eldest brother, Sir Maurice was 

 passionately fond of hunting. In his early days he was 

 known as one of the hardest riders in the * Shires,' and 

 when, after long years, he returned from the quarter-deck 

 to the saddle, there was no bolder horseman in all the 

 ' West Countree.' He had had the best of models in 

 Harry Ayris, and he profited by the example, not only 

 in horsemanship but in study of the ' art of Venerie,' 

 for Sir Maurice was well versed in all the lore of the 

 'noble science,' and had formed his own independent ideas, 

 of what hounds should be and how foxes should be 

 hunted, from personal experience. Twenty-three inches 

 was his standard, and he cared more for nose than 

 symmetry. ' I don't care a damn for looks,' he used to 

 say in his blunt sailor-]ike fashion, ' huntsmen forget to 

 breed hounds for their noses, they're all for looks. Give 

 Me the pack that can kill foxes.' 



The old seaman could speak his mind out, too, with 

 the genuine briny vigour of the quarter-deck when the 

 field displayed any restiveness. And, to the very last, 

 when seventy years had whitened his hair and bent 

 his frame, though they could not lessen his nerve, he 

 was deeply offended if anyone jumped a fence in front 

 of him, and expressed his feelings in appropriate terms, 

 which made the ears of the offender tingle. The 

 discipline of the Royal Navy, which so sternly exacted 

 respect to a superior officer, was so deeply ingrained 

 in him that he deemed it nothing short of flat mutiny 

 for any member of the field to forestall the master at a 

 fence. 



In 1 86 1, Sir Maurice was raised to the peerage as 



