318 NIMRODS HUNTING TOUR 



termed the question of the d — d Corn Bill. "Did Lord Darlington 

 change horses here on Sunday ? " said I to the landloi'd of Catterick 

 Bridge inn. On being answered in the affirmative, I inquired after 

 his health. " His Lordship was very well," replied Mr. Fergusson ; 

 " but when he comes down from London, he never looks so well as 

 he does when he goes up ; he never looks like himself till he has had a 

 hit of fox-hunting ." — "Aye, aye," said I; "that is the medicine of 

 life : there is no such balm in Gilead." 



It is an eighteen mile stage from Catterick Bridge to Eaby, and as 

 part of it is a bye-road, with a great many gates to open, I found that 

 I should do no more than just get in time for dinner; and losing 

 that at Eaby is no ordinary joke. One appetite, however, was highly 

 gratified even in the jumbling a hack-chaise. The approach to Eaby 

 is a feast to the eye sufficient to satisfy the veriest glutton for the 

 sublime and grand ; and when the noble Castle, with its stately 

 towers, emblazoned walls, and deep fosse that surrounds it, retaining 

 all their appearance of antiquity, burst with commanding grandeur 

 upon my view, strange ideas presented themselves to my mind. I 

 could not help fancying that, like the planets. Old Time had become 

 retrograde, and that I was on my road to visit a haughty Baron of 

 the feudal ages some three hundred years back. 



The entrance into the Castle is particularly grand, and the imposing 

 effect must make that impression on all strangers which it made 

 upon myself. As I drove through the outer gate, my arrival was 

 announced by a deep-toned bell, rung by a porter who inhabits the 

 lodge, and which always announces the approach of a guest. My 

 carriage proceeded at a rapid rate along the embattled terrace, and 

 taking a fine sweep through the inner gate, where a portcullis is 

 suspended, brought me into a quadrangular court-yard, where I 

 concluded I was to be landed for the day. But it was not so. The 

 large folding doors of the great Gothic saloon opened as I approached 

 them, and I found myself, hack-chaise and all, in this noble room. 

 Here were two or three footmen ready to take my luggage, and the 

 groom of the chambers to shew me to my apartment. 



" You have very little time to dress in. Sir," said the groom of the 

 chambers, as he led me through the turnings and windings of the 

 ante-rooms and passages of this huge building: "his Lordship's 



