THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 



Two rather interesting incidents have been overlooked during 

 the sojourn of Frank Raby at Melton, extending, as has been 

 observed, over a period of nine years. The first has its origin 

 in an extraordinary run, in which two celebrated sportsmen of 

 those times played extraordinary parts. The fox broke from 

 the Coplow, the hounds getting away close at his brush, and 

 so straight did he put his head, that those who did not get well 

 away with them, had no chance to be near them, as there was 

 nothing to be had from a favourable turn. Those, however, 

 who did get away well, had great difficulty in living with the 

 pack, and, dropping off one by one, out of 150 at starting, the 

 field soon became select. But to what did it come at length ? 

 Why, to the presence of only two, and even they did not 

 quite see the finish of this glorious run. And there was no 

 deceit here. Coming to a momentary check, one said to the 

 other — 



' Look behind you. There is not a living soul in sight ! ' 

 Nor was there. As there were no second horses in those 

 days, the honours should be recorded to the two who thus 

 distinguished themselves, as well as to their owners who rode 

 them. The name of one was the Clapper, ridden by Mr. Ludlow, 

 of Bibury, as well as of Leicestershire fame ; the other by Mr. 

 Smith, honoured by Napoleon as the grand chasseur of the day. 

 And where was our hero in this run ? He was one of the last 

 lot of five who all pulled up in the same large field, having 

 been, up to that time, brilliantly carried by Topthorn. 



The second incident has somewhat of a contrary bearing, 

 inasmuch as it produces rather a rare instance of a sportsman 

 coming at once from a very close and confined country into 

 the spacious and highly-ridged fields of Leicestershire, and 

 distinguishing both himself and his horse. This was the 

 Beverend James Tomlinson, of whom we have before spoken 

 as having excited the admiration of our hero in Cheshire, and 

 whose performance on the day alluded to was the cause of 

 rather a curious eclaircissement. Previously, however, to the 

 climax, it should be observed that, in those days, no gentle- 

 man, except in the Cheshire Hunt, was seen in the hunting- 

 field clad in leather breeches. Thus clad, however, was Mr. 

 Tomlinson, when the fox broke from his cover, and, moreover, 

 the gentleman was still further disguised by a coloured silk 

 neckcloth. 



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