THEIR PHILOSOPHY OF THE CHASE. 83 



that there was but one flower he cared for, and that was a 

 cauliflower.' 



Poor old Humfrey was called to his rest on November 4th, 

 1874. In 'Our Van' of December of that year he was thus 

 alluded to: 'A^reat character, well-known in Leicestershire, 

 the Rev. Cave Humfrey, of Laughton, near Market Harborough,' 

 has recently passed away. He was the original of Parson 

 Dove in Mr. Whyte-Melvilie's famous novel, ' iMarket Har- 

 borough'— a thorough gentleman and sportsman, one of a 

 class of whom there are but, unhappily, only a few left.' 



A then weekly correspondent of the ' Field ' wrote as follows : 

 ' Before I resume my notes of last week's sport, let me pay a 

 brief tribute to the memory of one of the oldest members of the 

 Hunt, suddenly called from among us. Few thought that on 

 reaching Rolleston on the 4th instant they would be told that 

 the Rev. Cave Humphrey was dead. He was out with us at 

 the opening meet at Gumley, and though, like many of us, 

 complaining of increasing years, he still seemed as cheery and 

 fond of the sport as ever. A friend kindly gives me the following 

 description, which, to many of your readers, will recall old 

 memories of bygone days. Cave Humphrey was born, lived 

 and died at Laughton Rectory. Living to the ripe age of 

 73, and having hunted in the neighbourhood of Market Har- 

 borough all his life, few men were so well known as he, and 

 his hunting recollections would fill a volume. He could take 

 you back to the day when the Quorn found at Marston Hills, 

 and killed at Tilton Wood, and there were only about a dozen 

 fences in the whole line, but they being parish boundaries, with 

 big, old, boggy ditches, proved serious obstacles; to another 

 day from Gumley Wood to Loddington Redditch, before the 

 Keythorpe and Nosely spinneys were planted ; and back to the 

 time when Naseby battlefield was almost a morass. His 

 anecdotes of the masters of the Quorn and Pytchley were very 

 amusing, but his love always returned to old Sir Richard 

 (Sutton), whose exploits he was never weary of relating. In 

 his younger days he always had two or three good horses, and 

 was bad to beat, though of late years, from an injury to his 

 knee, he was obliged to content himself with a galloping hack ; 

 and many ladies and youngsters availed themselves of his 

 knowledge of the country to show them safely through a good 

 run. For more than thirty years he never allowed a 'vet.' to 

 enter his stable, and a dose of physic was never allowed. It 



