NORTHAINIPTONSHIRE 229 



a proper type of a British King ; for, 'midst storms and tempests 

 the one stands secure, and neither plots nor factions can shake the 

 resting place of the other. But this is not all : in days of yore 

 nothing could be done — no ceremonies at least could be performed — 

 without having recourse to this monarch of the plain, by some even 

 called "the chosen tree of God." We have read in Virgil, that 

 when his hero iEneas had killed the tyrant Mezentius, and after- 

 wards sacrificed to the god of war, he bared an oak of its leaves, and 

 hanged the gaudy trappings of the dead monster on its naked trunk [ 

 It is not in the power of language to say more than this ! 



On the 30th of March I left home for Pitsford in Northampton- 

 shire, where Mr. Musters resides in the hunting season. His house 

 is situated a little to the right of the road from Northampton to 

 Market Harborough, and within a mile and a half of Brixworth, 

 where the kennel and stables are. 



On the day I arrived, Mr. Musters' hounds had met at Kelmarsh, 

 the fine seat of Mr. Hanbury, where I was informed a field of at 

 least two hundred were assembled, and they were very near having 

 a capital run. As it was, they had a pretty little burst at a racing 

 pace, and killed ; but one fox went away over a magnificent country, 

 with only about five couples of hounds on the scent — the body of 

 them having gone away with another fox. 



To Mr. Musters, as a huntsman, the Sporting "World have 

 unhesitatingly assigned the palm of superiority ; and, as far as I am 

 a judge, I fully confirm their verdict. I must say of him, as has 

 been said of another, that {singulus in arte) "none but himself can 

 be his parallel." 



Mr. Musters hunted a pack of harriers when a boy. His father 

 kept a pack of fox-hounds for many years ; and — independently of 

 the advantages he has had of seeing hounds in all the best countries 

 in England — he has been at the head of a pack of his own for 

 twenty-three seasons. 



On the 11th the dog pack met at Mr. Musters's house. In about 

 a mile and a half we arrived at Moulton's gorse, and found directly. 

 An awkward brook immediately at starting, severe ground, and the 

 pace, scattered the field, and made a check at the end of twelve 



