156 REMINISCENCES OF A HUNTSMAN 



that country, still I looked on it then as I look on it now, the 

 happiest period of my huntsman's life; and I went, not only 

 from many people of all classes whom I liked, but from a place 

 of which I had grown fond by association. And one word for 

 poor dear old Mrs. Church of the Manor Farm, at Stevington. 

 Though I had preserved game on her lands strictly, we never 

 had the shadow of a disagreement : and I can picture to myself 

 now her yellow stubbles on the first of September, full of 

 partridge; her fresh green meads by the river-side, and her 

 sweet-breathed cows ; the old picturesque ruin of the nunnery, 

 close to her house, and looking on to the river, and the cool, 

 sparkling, bubbling spring that issued beneath it, never frozen 

 in winter nor dry in summer, its cresses ever green when all 

 around was parched and dry, steadfast in surrounding verdure 

 as Catholic to the olden faith, that faith unchanged amidst the 

 change of years. 



About two in the day my kind old friend expected me to 

 look in for luncheon ; my dogs to the bubbling spring, and then 

 myself to her cool stone parlour and the hospitable table, spread 

 with a good brown loaf and the freshest butter, an ample cheese, 

 perhaps some cold meat, and then a cold homely-made plum 

 pudding such as your cook won't give you at home, but once 

 tasted becomes a viand to swear by for ever after. Poor Mrs. 

 Church grew blind, and died, after the operation of couching, 

 before I left Harrold Hall. Then the cool sojourn by the river- 

 side in fishing for bream, and the delight I derived when, 

 stretched on my lawn in summer, or from the drawing-room 

 window, I beheld my stud of goodly hunters, eighteen or twenty 

 in number, wading up to their shoulders on a hot afternoon 

 into the swift-running stream at the foot of the garden to cool 

 their legs, get rid of the flies, and crop the juicy green weeds 

 that waved above the shallows. There is many a scene from 

 Harrold deeply impressed on my recollection, and many a well- 

 remembered face still living I should joy in seeing again. 

 Though I was there but seven years, it seems as if in that period 

 I had lived the greater portion of my sportsman's life, and 



