THE HISTORY OF THE BEL VOIR HUNT 



the speeches from the staircase and anteroom above. Sir 

 William Welby Gregory made a very able speech on behalf 

 of the hunt, in presenting the plate to the Duke of Rutland ; 

 which the Duke responded to, speaking with great feeling 

 and emotion. Soon after this the hounds met near the front 

 door of the Castle, and they shortly adjourned to the Belvoir 

 woodlands, and remained there the rest of the day, as it 

 turned out to be a bad scenting day. 



Before I conclude my history of famous runs, I must men- 

 tion a very remarkable one which took place from the Bel- 

 voir woods. We found the fox in Barkston wood, and after 

 rattling him about for a quarter of an hour he went away 

 over the vale and pointed straight for Barkston village, going 

 over a nice piece of grass country. Hounds then crossed the 

 canal and ran fast down to Jericho covert, but we soon got 

 him away again, and he made back towards the Belvoir 

 woodlands, but turning right-handed when he got to the 

 canal he kept along the towing path for nearly a mile in the 

 direction of Harby ; he then crossed the canal and turned in 

 the direction of Stathern, but when within a quarter of a mile 

 of the village he turned right-handed and went up the steep 

 hill towards Goadby, and crossing the next field at Piper 

 Hole ran through Mr. George Norman's plantation at Goadby 

 Hall, and we took a line from this plantation in the direction 

 of Croxton Park, but as it was then becoming very dark the 

 hounds were obliged to be whipped off. Very few people 

 saw this capital hunting run, which lasted the best part of 

 two hours, as the majority of the hunting field were left 

 behind in Barkston wood, not knowing that the hounds had 

 slipped away. Among those who had the pleasure of seeing 

 this run were Mr. Henley Greaves and his son (who were 

 then hunting from Grantham), Mr. John Welby, Captain 

 Glynne E. Welby, and myself, and perhaps two or three 

 more, and the huntsman and whips. On this occasion I rode 

 a beautiful dark chestnut Irish pony (Kathleen by name) 

 which had been imported from Ireland by my father. She 

 was a splendid fencer, and no place was too big for her when 

 hounds were running, but being only 14I hands high, of 



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