16 NIMROD'S HUNTING TOUR 



But, as is the case with all short men who arrive at Stephen's 

 size (at least eighteen stone), when the weight lies a good deal 

 about the abdomen, violent exeixise of any sort is impracticable. 

 In the first place, it occasions a difficulty of breathing, much in- 

 creased by going rapidly through the air ; and in the next, an 

 unwieldiness of the person, which destroys all power of, or con- 

 fidence in, self-exertion, which, in the moment of danger from falls, 

 is the greatest security against injury. Having said this, it is no 

 wonder that Stephen could not ride up to a pack of hounds, which, 

 in my opinion, were hi Ibis time the speediest in England. 



Any true lover of the sport would ride fifty miles of a morning to 

 see Tom Wingfield hunt these hounds. Tom's education has been 

 complete for the situation he fills, having whipped-in to the late 

 Mr. Meynell, Lords Sefton and Foley, as also to Mr. T. A, Smith, 

 all in the Quorndon country. Considering that he was not educated 

 in woodlands, it is wonderful as well as delightful to see him (as I 

 have seen him) stick to his fox for two hours in those "little 

 spinnies," as he calls them — the great Clayton Woods — and kill 

 without leaving him for a moment. 



In the open country Tom is pre-eminent. A beautiful and deter- 

 mined horseman, he is never out of sight of his hounds, and he can 

 see more with that one eye of his than many would if they had 

 three. When his hounds are at check, he invariably stands still, as 

 coolly as though he were looking at a prospect, and never intrudes 

 his opinion till they appear to ask for it. This is the way to give 

 confidence to hounds ; and nine times out of ten, as Tom knows, the 

 instinct of the hound may be backed against the judgment of the 

 man. 



Wingfield is a man of few words, but what he says is to the 

 purpose, and he can be a bit of a wag. A friend of mine was riding 

 over Leicestershire with him when he lived with Mr. Smith, and 

 coming to "a rasper," which a third person, who was of the party, 

 did not fancy, Tom turned around and observed, " I think. Sir, that 

 gentleman has no business lu our shire." 



A man who cannot ride over large fences has no business with 

 Sir Thomas Mostyn's hounds, as the greater part of it is a bruising 

 country, and requires a hunter, and a powerful one, to go across it 



