158 THE MEYNELL HOUNDS. 



Clifton bid me seventy pounds for him about a couple of months before I lost 

 him from disease of the kidneys. 



Another good run with the Meynell was with a fox from Lime Kiln Rough 

 and I was on old " Utilis." He had been only taken up one night and I never 

 thought of following them until the old horse began to pull at me and ivanted to 

 go, for I was in everyday attire. [The Rev. F. Tomlinson says, " As told in 

 conversation Father was wont to describe himself as saying to the old horse, 

 • Go, then, you old fool ; if you want to go, go.' "] The fox ran for Atlow, 

 Ilognaston, back over Atlow Winn, Nether Bradbourne, through Brassington 

 churchyard, and up the steep hill above Brassington. Then for Ballidon, and 

 Royston Grange. Then making in the direction of Newhaven, when he was lost. 

 The Duke of Portland was with them. When returning back near the Grange 

 above Brassington, I heard a gentleman asking Mr. Tom Smith of Clifton how 

 far we were from Bradley where the fox was found. Mr. Smith said, that 

 person (myself) could tell him better than he could. So the gentleman asked 

 me if I could say what distance we were from Bradlej'. I said we were about 

 six miles as the crow flies. He said, " We have had a splendid run," and then 

 remarked jocosely, that my throat strap to my bridle was undone, and told me 

 to mind and not lose the bridle. The gentleman, as I found afterwards, was the 

 Duke of Portland. His coat bore evidence that he had been down. I did not 

 know I had been talking to the Duke until Tom Smith informed me. 



This calls to mind an amusing story of a farmer who 

 rode up to the Duke of Bedford out hunting, not knowing 

 who he was, and asked if his cob was for sale. 



" No, it isn't," the Duke said. 



**Well, never mind," said the farmer. "There's no 

 harm done. My name is Atkins, and I live at Farleigh. 

 There's a pretty good tap there, if you like to call." 



To which the Duke replied by handing his companion 

 his card, adding, " There's a pretty good tap there too, if 

 you care to call ! " 



Another rather good case of the same kind happened 

 to the late Mr. Arnaud when he first came to the Grafton 

 country. He had lost the hounds in Whistley Wood — no 

 uncommon occurrence with any one — and found an old 

 gentleman standing quietly by a hunting-gate, of whom 

 he inquired where the hounds were. 



'* Oh, they've been gone some time," said he. 



"Then, what the dickens are you doing standing 

 here ? " Mr. Arnaud asked testily, in the sort of humour 

 in which a man usually is when he has lost the hounds. 



The old gentleman proved to be the noble Master, the 

 late Duke of Grafton. 



