THE PYTCHLEV AT CRICK, 1 846 347 



the train, which took me to Rugby by 9 o'clock. I led old 

 " Carlow " up to the "Eagle" at Rugby, about a mile from the 

 station, where I had an indifferent breakfast in company of three 

 officers of a regiment quartered at Birmingham, who had come 

 by rail this morning to join the meet, and having ordered some 

 linseed gruel for "Carlow" and dinner for myself to be ready 

 on our return, trotted off to Crick, about six miles from Rugby. 



A numerous and well-mounted field were assembled at 

 Crick, including two ladies on horseback and Lady Villiers in 

 her phaeton. The hounds looked strong, well bred and business- 

 like, but scarcely as finely bred as the Belvoir or Cottesmore, 

 and not so large or handsome as Conyers'. Mr. George Payne, 

 the deservedly popular Master, is apparently about 55, of a 

 large mould and well built, and looking like a man who under- 

 stood his business. He was mounted on a remarkably compact, 

 short-legged, bay horse, who seemed quite perfect at his busi- 

 ness of crossing a country. Mr. George Payne waited very 

 good-naturedly half an hour for Lord Strathmore, who was 

 coming down by rail from London after his recent exploit of 

 winning the Worcestershire Steeplechase on his noted horse 

 "The Switcher," beating most of the best horses and riders, 

 professional and otherwise, of the day. 



We then proceeded slowly towards Crick Gorse or covert, 

 and his lordship just then making- his appearance, the hounds 

 were thrown in. Before any challenge was given, in fact 

 without his being found, a fox was viewed away, the hounds 

 were laid on and went away across the road in the direction, I 

 believe, of West Haddon, at a tremendous pace. The very first 

 fence out of the road was rather a stiff stake and bound, and 

 made a very considerable thinning. Hounds ran over a beautiful 

 country, principally grass-grounds smaller than those of Leices- 

 tershire, but with fences stiff enough to please hard riders, but 

 still generally practicable. The worst fences were the doubles 

 and ox-fences, of which there were abundance and manifold 

 partings were the result, the sure sign of a good quick thing. 

 We went on in this style, about the usual number of a dozen 

 being well up with the hounds, with only one slight check until 

 we came to Lord Henley's place at Watford, delightfully placed 

 near the church and commanding a fine view, where, after a 

 scurry or two round the lawn we killed our fox, the brush being 

 given to Lady Villiers, who was there in her phaeton. 



This is by far the best run of thirty-five minutes which I 

 have had this season, although a ring. Lord Strathmore said 

 that he was innocent, like myself, of its having been a ring until 



