The Quorn. 73 



Cossington Gorse from here (more of tliorn than gorse 

 in its composition^ by the way) is a covert of happy 

 memory and glorious connection. It stands by the 

 side of the old Roman Fosse Eoad, which (well cared 

 for to Six Hills_, afterwards a deep wild track such as 

 would do credit to the New Forest) runs from Leicester 

 to Newark, as any map will plainly tell. A Cossington 

 fox must either break westwards into a country whose 

 style is more befitting a Saturday draw ; or he puts a 

 very different colouring on the proceedings by cross- 

 ing the road and embarking on ground almost sacred 

 in its associations — the Hoby and Thrussington lord- 

 ships, to wit. That is the country to test the best of 

 men, and the best of horses, even of Melton; for the 

 fields are forty acres apiece, and the fences are to be 

 jumped — but nothing more. Hounds, on fair terms 

 with their fox, can fly over them on anything like a 

 scenting day; and we maintain it is a pleasanter 

 country to cross quick than to crane over — for the 

 fences will not bear too much looking at. From 

 Cossington Gorse past Thrussington and Hoby villages 

 to Shoby Scholes is a twenty-five minutes^ enjoyment 

 not to be surpassed even in the Shires — provided 

 always that you are riding a horse fit for the journey. 

 A good horse is essential to comfort anywhere — but a 

 superlatively good horse is needed for Leicestershire, 

 not only to accomplish the country, but to combat the 

 crowd. He should be as nearly thoroughbred as you 

 can get him, or he will not live the pace or jump when 

 he is half beat. He must be bold, and yet be tractable. 

 Believe not what is often broadly stated, that riding 

 over Leicestershire is no more difficult for horse or 



