THE GENEROUS GRANBY 



harassed by his creditors. To fox-hunting, like his chief 

 the Duke of Grafton, he owed the best and happiest moments 

 of this portion of his Hfe, and, after all his labours and his 

 warfare, his most certain pleasure was to improve the family 

 pack. To him first, I think, came the idea of establishing 

 a pack on the foundation of the old Belvoir blood, which 

 should be superior to all others, and, whether he meant it 

 to be so or not, he made hunting a social and economic 

 factor in the life of the Lincolnshire and Leicestershire 

 farmers and squires. We have already seen that the hunt 

 was attracting visitors, and thus bringing money into the 

 country and affecting its social life, for, after all, there is 

 in England no country for fox-hunting like that round 

 Belvoir Castle. There are woods to hold the foxes, an 

 open country across which to chase them, a soil which 

 carries a serving scent, and a race of stout foxes, farmers, 

 and squires. 



In Lord Granby's time the hunt would begin early in 

 the morning, for our later hour of meeting is a concession 

 to the habits of the day. Hounds which in the early hours 

 of the day hit on the drag of their fox returning from his 

 nightly prowl, whimpering, snuffling, and lashing their sterns, 

 would hunt up to it, one bolder than the rest speaking to 

 it, as Nimrod happily says, with the voice of " a dog in a 

 dream." As the trail grew warmer the chorus swelled, and 

 the delighted sportsmen rode alongside, watching the hounds 

 and noting the performances of each and all. Now they 

 would carry the line over a bit of cold scenting ground 

 or swing to recover it when the too eager field had pressed 

 them over it. Then the fox would be at length " un- 

 kennelled " by hunting up to him, or as near as the ex- 

 perience and cunning of the quarry would permit. We 

 can picture it all to-day. Some veteran of the chase, roused 

 from his slumbers by the ringing notes of hounds, and 

 standing — who has not seen it ? — head up, ears erect, eyes 

 bright, watchful, and fearful, one dainty black pad lifted, 

 and the full white tufted brush sweeping the ground. For 

 a moment he stands thus, a vision of lithe beauty and 



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