208 NIMROD'S HUNTING TOUR 



the dog-pack in Shawbury Wood, when close to their fox, was quite 

 enchanting. I said to myself — 



" Never did I hear 

 Sucli gallant chiding ; for, besides the groves, 

 The skies, the fountains, every region near 

 Seem all one mutual cry ; I never heard 

 So musical a discord, such sweet thunder." 



On Friday the 3rd met the Shropshire fox -hounds at Boreaton, 

 the seat of Mr. Hunt. Plenty of pheasants, but no fox. Drew on 

 to Leighton Shelf, and found at least a leash. This is a most 

 picturesque covert — overhanging the banks of the Severn, the 

 property of Mr. Lloyd of Dongey, and extremely ornamental to his 

 new house, but the most infernal place for hounds I ever came 

 across. A bad fox may beat the best pack in England in an hour ; 

 and it went to my heart to see Sir Bellingham galloping that fine 

 horse Treacle up and down its deep rides, without, apparently, the 

 smallest chance of sport. 



After hunting on this day. Sir Bellingham and mysell dined at 

 Acton Burnell, which was the fixture for the next morning. This is 

 the fine seat of my very old friend Sir Edward Smythe, who hunted 

 Shropshire six seasons. Sir Edward is the representative of a very 

 ancient Eoman Catholic family, and, whether on a Friday or a 

 Monday, whether in Lent or out of Lent, a more jovial fellow is not 

 to be found in His Majesty's dominions. Though this worthy 

 Baronet has plenty of game, he is a strict preserver of foxes, and 

 generally finds a good one. 



The day I am speaking of did not prove an exception. We found 

 in the park ; and, after upwards of two hours through a deep and 

 distressing country, lost him by a halloo from a keeper, who thought 

 he had marked him to ground. At the second check, I heard Sir 

 Bellingham say we had been running him an hour and ten minutes — 

 quite enough for the country we went over. 



I witnessed in this run what I never witnessed before, namely, 

 three gentlemen riding at gates, and — without their horses falling — 

 tumbling over their heads. The trio was composed of Mr. Byrne, 

 a friend of Sir Edward Smythe's, but a native of the Sister Kingdom ; 

 Mr. Eock, a very thrusting young one ; and Mr. Mytton ! Mr. 



