Belvoir Hunt. 133 



What a difference there was half a century 

 ago in the mode of going to the meet. The 

 thorough-bred hack, after having been put 

 through the mill and found wanting in his 

 youthful days, bore his rider at a hand canter 

 ten or twelve miles comfortably within the 

 hour. The iron horse now conveys the man 

 from town little short of a mile in a minute to 

 liis destination. An elegant trap and hog- 

 maned cob, mostly driven by a lady scrupu- 

 lously attired for the chase, brings her sterner 

 companion, a marvel of the skill of his valet, 

 in the most spotless of garments, his faultless 

 leathers protected by an apron which can be 

 utilised on horseback in case of rain. This is 

 out of the pale of Doctor Johnson's ideas of 

 travelling, as he somewhere observes that one 

 of the finest things is to be rattled in a coach ; 

 and, without denying that the doctor's opinion, 

 as far as it went, might have been good in his 

 day, no one will deny that however useful in 

 its way, there is something stiff and formal in 

 the mode of progression, to say nothing about 

 the inconvenience of either being frozen to 

 death in the snow-bound vehicle, or compelled 

 to solicit food and shelter at the nearest farm 

 house, which might happen to be miles away. 



