THE LIFE OF A SPORTSMAN 189 



one of a fox. They were both capital horsemen ; indeed, 

 I think I may say of Winkfield, from the long experience 

 I had of his performance, that a better could not be found. 



As this was one of the last days of Mr. Meynell appear- 

 ing in the field, it was fortunate for Frank Eaby that 

 something occurred to call his attention to his proceedings, 

 how trivial soever it might be. A small cover that lay on 

 the road to Scraptoft was tried, but it did not hold a fox. 

 One hound, however, threw his tongue once in the gorse 

 and no rate being heard, a find was considered certain. 



" Have a care, Dromo," however, was heard from Mr. 

 Meynell. with one smack of his whip. It was no find ; 

 and on Lord Sefton approaching Mr. Meynell, he asked 

 him if he knew the tongue of the hound that spoke in the 

 gorse ? 



" It was Dromo," said Meynell. 



" I think not," replied his Lordship ; " Dromo was on 

 the other side of the cover, drawing very well." 



" It was either Dromo or Drummer " (brothers, and one- 

 year hunters), resumed the veteran ; but as Raven came 

 by with the pack, the question was at once decided. 



" What hound spoke to a scent, John 1 " said Lord 

 Sefton. " Dromo, my Lord," replied Raven. " I think 

 a fox has been through the gorse early in the night." This 

 showed the accuracy of Mr. MeynelFs ear, and at a period 

 of life when such accuracy is not often exhibited. 



It would not be worth while to recite the further doings 

 of this day, and this on two accounts : first, the day 

 altered, as we sportsmen say, and the pace could not be 

 maintained ; and secondly, if there had been a really 

 good thing, our hero could not have partaken of it, 

 forasmuch as Gentleman had not recovered the twister he 

 had had in the morning. To say the truth, he was a very 

 middling nag, and " well known in Leicestershire ;) as such, 

 or 150 guineas, or even double that sum, would not have 

 purchased him at Tattersall's, for, like many other " gentle- 

 men," his appearance was very imposing. 



On his arrival at Melton, our hero was much dis- 

 appointed at all he saw of the town as he rode to the 

 " Swan," the head inn of those days, but now a private 

 house ; and likewise with the inn itself, which was as bad 

 as bad could be. This, however, was a point of minor con- 

 sequence to Frank Raby, inasmuch as by the introduction 

 of Mr. Somerby, in addition to the weight his own connec- 



