414 iRiuQS Of tbe 1buntino*jFlelD 



country sport ! His love of hunting was a passion, and 

 as a hunting man he was most cathoHc in his tastes, 

 equally at home in the Shires, with the wild deer on 

 Exmoor, with Lord Wolverton's blood-hounds or with 

 the Baron's in the Vale of Aylesbury. That he loved 

 foxhunting best is unquestionable, though in one of the 

 most spirited of his hunting songs he says : — 



' Oh ! the harrier makes a music that's sweet to the ear, 

 And the note of the foxhound rings home to the brain ; 

 But the sport we love best is a spin with the deer 



O'er the pick of the pasture, the pride of the plain ; 

 Where the men of the hunt and the men of the sword 

 Are at work with their spurs to ride up to the Ward.' 



But that is the license of the poet, and, besides, there were 

 the beaux yenx of Mrs J. L. Morrogh, the wife of the 

 Master of the Ward Union, boldest and most graceful 

 of horsewomen, to kindle the bard's inspiration and spur 

 his fancy. 



With the Pytchley he was known as a good goer, who 

 preferred taking a line of his own. There was nothing 

 dashing or showy about his riding, but he had the true 

 sportsman's temper, fine hands, and perfect sympathy 

 with the horse he rode. He abhorred dirt, and the 

 notion that to be in the first flight meant constant falls 

 and coming home coated with mud had no support from 

 him. He thought it the most convincing proof of good 

 riding to hounds to avoid falls and preserve the 

 spotless neatness of his get-up as far as possible un- 

 spoiled. Yet, though seldom indulging in expensive 

 mounts, it was rarely indeed that he failed to hold his 

 own in any country. His gentle and equable temper was 

 seldom roused, but there was one abomination which 

 never failed to excite his wrath, and that was Wire. 



