THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 



his tongue on a scent. " He is among the dead ! " exclaimed 

 Meynell ; and, puttino- his horse to the wall, he rode over it in 

 his usual cool and beautiful style. The fox had actually taken 

 possession of a newly made grave, from out of which he jumped 

 apparently as fresh as when first found ; afforded us another 

 burst, exceeded by pace and severity of country only by that 

 from Frisby Gorse to Haines's, in the morning, and quite fast 

 enough to satisfy any one. In fact, he went from Queen- 

 borough nearly to Syston ; when, crossing tlie Leicester road, 

 and charging the river Soar in liis course, we ran into him 

 close to the windmill on the hill, within a few hundred yards 

 of Mount Sorrel Town ; and thus ended one of the finest 

 runs ever seen in that or any other country, it having con- 

 sisted of every description of hunting, and of every description 

 of difficulties, wliich could put the goodness and condition 

 of hounds, the science of their huntsman, the bottom of the 

 horses, and the nerves and judgment of their riders, to the 

 test. 



' Were I to relate all the disasters and casualties that 

 occurred on this memorable day,' resumed Lord Edmonston, 

 ' I should make my story too long ; and I wish I could con- 

 clude it without stating that several horses died in consequence 

 of it. I must, however, mention one circumstance relating to 

 the far-famed master of the |)ack. After we had been going 

 for at least three-quarters of an hour, and at the best pace, with 

 our horses not a little the worse for it, all of us who were up 

 with the hounds at that moment made for the corner of a large 

 grass-field, near Dalby, which was surrounded by an immense 

 ox-fence, and particularly strong in that one particular part. 

 We were assured, however, that the gate in the corner would 

 open, and this by that good old sportsman, Henton of Hoby, 

 who said he had passed through it that morning ; but we 

 found, to our cost, there was no longer a gate there. It had 

 been broken to pieces by some bullocks, and replaced with a 

 flight of rails so high and so strong as to bring all the leading- 

 men to a standstill. In fact, we were turning away from it 

 in despair, looking for a practicable place in the ox-fence, when 

 Meynell, mounted on his famous old grey horse, came up ; 

 and, without breaking his stride, leaped it in the most beauti- 

 ful style imaginable, leaving us all in the lurch, for a time, 

 not one having the nerve to follow him, althouoh the hounds 



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