256 The Post and the Paddock. 



was going away with his fox from Bradley Wood, he 

 suddenly hailed him, and said he had a pain in his 

 back, and Ploughboy was pulling him, adding " You 

 had best take your ride now, Tom ; old Ploughboy 

 will never hunt another season." Will's words were 

 only too prophetic. They had gone seven miles, best 

 pace, and Ploughboy was striding away across Healing 

 Field (so called from a small mineral spring in the 

 lordship), with his head down, after having just 

 jumped a stiff ox-post and rails, when he put his foot 

 in a little grip, fell on his chin, dislocated his neck, 

 and turned tail over head as dead as a stone. His 

 rider was standing over him as Will galloped past. 

 " Not hurt, Tom, I hope. Well, it's an honourable death 

 for old Ploughboy to die'' And on he went with his 

 hounds, and killed his fox in Lord Yarborough's 

 private room at Brocklesby. It seemed as if " the red 

 rogue" had just struggled so far to tell his lordship 

 that his race was avenged on Ploughboy at last ; and 

 a knife, mounted with his pad, a present from Will, 

 and bearing date April 6th, 1829, still does duty at 

 Croxby. Incredible as it may seem, almost every 

 muscle in Ploughboy's legs was found to be filled with 

 thorn-pricks, and yet he had scarcely ever gone lame. 

 But sixteen years more, and Will's own voice (which, 

 like three generations of Smiths before him, had so 

 often rung out a death knell) was hushed for ever, 

 while he was still in his prime. Some of the elder 

 branch lie at Nettleton, and Will, " aged 56," is now 

 the latest tenant of that grey row of flat-stone graves 

 in which the rest, fathers and sons, huntsmen and 

 whippers-in, are garnered side by side near the chancel 

 door at Brocklesby. On that sad day he was riding a 

 shifty Waverley horse, and owing to a high thick 

 hedge, was unable to get to his hounds, as they had 

 some cold hunting up the ascent from Bradley Wood, 

 towards Barnoldby Church. " Holloa, my lad! holloa!" 

 he shouted to a lad in the distance, who had just 



