THE HISTORY OF THE BELVOIR HUNT 



must have a few words about the gallant old huntsman. He 

 may fitly be described as the Duke of Wellington of his 

 order. His years nearly number threescore and ten, thirty- 

 seven of which have been passed in the service of his present 

 master, the Duke of Rutland, and twenty-six in the situation 

 he now so nobly fills. Time has frosted each particular 

 hackle upon his brow, but his eyes are as bright as an 

 eagle's and the florid blood of health blooms in his cheeks 

 and mantles through every vein. The shrill, piping voice of 

 age is not heard when he gives tongue, but one full, round 

 and musical as ever waked a wood nymph from her dewy 

 couch. Of middle height and slender, he is a good figure for 

 a horse and sits one with all the ease and firmness of well- 

 practised men not half his years. The kennel is all that the 

 most fastidious houndsman could desire. There are six 

 spacious courts with running water from fountains, well 

 flagged on the slant and containing a roomy kennel in each. 

 The grass yard, an outlet which must be of essential service 

 in the summer, is a wide open space, and only requires a few 

 broad-leaved trees to make it perfect. There is a large meal 

 house, capable of holding a famous stock, so that age may be 

 given to the meal — an indispensable for the making of good 

 food. The boiling house, the cooling house and feeding 

 house are fitted with every necessary, and indeed not a 

 corner has been left unthought of in the whole establish- 

 ment. 



" To my question of how many hounds there were. Goosey 

 replied, ' Fifty-seven couples and a half working hounds. 

 This is the pack that is going out to-day, sir,' continued he, 

 unfastening a door and showing me twenty couples of bitches 

 and one hound. After viewing them in the court — and a 

 most brilliant pack they formed — he drew some of the 

 favourites from the class. 



" ' That's Candid, Captious, Careful, and Curious,' observed 

 Goosey, pointing to two couples of fine black-and-tan hounds. 

 ' They're all from one litter, by Rasselas,' continued he, ' and 

 I hardly knew one of them to make a mistake in their lives. 

 There's nine couples and a half by the same sire and every 



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