88 FOX-HOUND, FOREST, AND PRAIRIE. 



now it wanted but a quarter to three, on a short January day. 

 No one over-rode the hounds, 'tis true ; for no one could 

 inasmuch as a line of railway stood almost immediately in their 

 path. Perhaps no one would have done. But it was a hard 

 good field, of mettle as keen as ever rode to the Belvoir. 



The wooded basin of Old Hills was left just to the right ; 

 and the ironwork -rail way crossed. At the Nottingham road, a 

 curious turn of the fox was quickly and cleverly unravelled by 

 the huntsman ; the hounds were set on their way in a second 

 over strong grass fields, and their followers had to work in their 

 wake amid locked gates and almost unmanageable fences as- 

 best they could. Over the hill-side the pack were quite shut 

 out from view by the tall and quickly-recurring bullfinches; 

 but, as they neared the Quorn covert of Cant's Thorns, a 

 second shooting party was encountered. Reynard slightly 

 turned in his path, and held up towards Wartnaby. It was 

 marvellous now to note the wide development to which know- 

 ledge of locality can be brought, by dint of study and instinct 

 of self-preservation. No sooner was the valley in sight, down 

 which runs the Wartnaby and Saxelby Bottom, than, with the 

 same accord that moves a flock of starlings, the whole field 

 bore to the right for the narrow part where the fence is- 

 jumpable swooping down upon it as if beckoned by one 

 common beacon. The only, and luckless, exception was in the 

 person of a fine rider and good sportsman who hails from a 

 strange countrie ; and who, in the honest belief that Leicester- 

 shire should at least be as sound ground as Yorkshire,* rode 

 straight forward, to find himself embedded in a deep black bog. 

 By some happy management, however, he reappeared upon the 

 scene within half an hour, and with no worse injury than a loss- 

 of appearance and half his reins. 



On over fine grass, that even in this season of deluge is at 

 least rideable in comfort and at a gallop while the little 

 ladies of Belvoir sped merrily forward, and fences came clean 



* The late Mr. E. Leatham, "in truth a gallant gentleman." 



