n8 THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 



" We have done very well indeed," replied his lordship, 

 " and old Meynell has been in high force, having killed 

 forty-one brace of foxes, about his usual amount, and had 

 capital runs with many of them." 



" Perhaps you will give us the history of one of them," 

 resumed Sir John. " It will be highly amusing to our 

 two young friends here, giving them an insight into what 

 they hope, one day or another, to partake of." 



" I will do so with pleasure," was the answer ; " and I 

 think the Shoby Scoales run, on new-year's day, will 

 answer your purpose well. 



" Shoby Scoales is situated in the finest part of Leicester- 

 shire ; and, being a sure find, the announcement of the 

 fixture always brings out a large field. There was, on this 

 day, a splendid field of horsemen ; and, what added to the 

 animating scene, a brilliant display of ladies in carriages 

 and on horseback, the morning being unusually mild for 

 that season of the year. 



" At a quarter past ten o'clock, the hounds were thrown 

 into the cover, in which they had not long been before 

 Champion, a favourite old hound, and noted for finding 

 his fox, challenged on a scent, and was instantly cheered 

 by Mr. Meynell. ' Have at him, Champion, old boy ! ' 

 he holloaed ; ' you never told me a lie ! Get round to the 

 lower side of the cover, Jack,' said he to Jack Jones, the 

 cork-legged whip, and stop his breaking there, for I want 

 to have a tickler to-day.' No sooner said than done. The 

 fox broke up wind, and faced our best country, viewed by 

 the whole field. Of course we were all ready for a start, 

 but were kept in check by Meynell taking off his cap and 

 holloaing ' Hold hard, gentlemen ; pray let my hounds 

 get fairly out of cover, and settle well to the scent, and 

 then ride over them if you can. 5 We were, however, a very 

 short time kept in suspense ; for the gallant pack were not 

 only too well bred, but too well taught to hang in cover 

 after their game had left it. They were soon out in the 

 open, with the scent so good, that, dropping their sterns 

 and raising their heads, away they went, at such an awful 

 pace, that we might have safely taken Meynell at his 

 word, and ridden over them, if we could have done so. In 

 fact, the first quarter of an hour was so fast, that ten 

 minutes more would have brought us all to a standstill. 

 At Kagdale, however, we came to a check, the hounds 

 having a little overrun the scent, from the fox turning 



