274 IRiDiiuj IRecollcctioiis auD Unvt Stories 



In the year 1865, just before Christmas, I was 

 asked by his Grace the Duke of Beaufort to spend 

 a week at Badminton with my old friend Fordham. 

 In those days, whenever George was ill, the Duke 

 always asked me to ride for him, and I did so unless 

 I had some prior engagement. On the first day the 

 hounds met at Bushton, a long distance from Bad- 

 minton, and we went on the coach to the meet. As 

 we were going along the road we passed a gentleman 

 looking all over like a sportsman ; he had the Bad- 

 minton blue on, and his breeches and his boots were 

 quite the thing ; and he was riding a very useful, 

 good sort of grey horse. When we passed the 

 gentleman, whose name I think was Winthrop, old 

 George said to me, " That is the hardest man in 

 this country, and he is riding his best horse, too." I 

 looked at his big grey hunter, and thought him some- 

 what clumsy and underbred ; but as I was a stranger 

 to the country I kept my eye on him, as I thought he 

 would be most likely to get a good start ; and so he 

 did. We found almost directly the hounds put in, 

 and Master Reynard was soon holloaed away. Not 

 knowing the country, I must be excused for 

 failing to give the line he took ; but I can say 

 he could not have chosen a better, more especi- 

 ally from my point of view, as I got a good start with 



