124 COVERT-SIDE SKETCHES. 



CHAPTER XIII. 



THE COTTESMORE. 



What ! four of us only ? are these the survivors 

 Of all that rode gaily from Ranksboro's ridge ? 



I hear the faint splash of a few hardy divers. 

 The rest are in hopeless research of a bridge. 



I NEED no apology for bringing the Cottesmore country into the 

 list of those that deserve notice in a work professing to give 

 some account of the principal hunting countries in England, not 

 only because it is one of the oldest, but also one of the best. In 

 fact, if I perhaps except the Quorn, it would be very hard 

 indeed to find one to beat it ; and in many portions, even 

 where it is not all grass, it has that wildness and freedom from 

 interruption which is so dear to the heart of every true sports- 

 man. It is all very well for people from town, who know no 

 better, to ride amongst wire fencing, flower-pots, cucumber-frames, 

 villa gardens, and such drawbacks to sport, and then, if they 

 cross three grass-fields and jump three fences, fancy they have 

 had a good day on the grass with the Queen's or some other 

 equally well-situated pack, and indite forthwith a full, true, and 

 particular account thereof to whichever sporting paper they 

 happen to patronize ; but every real sportsman knows that half 

 the pleasure of hunting consists in running your fox over a 

 country where he can make his point with as little interruption 

 as possible, and where hounds will not be interfered with to any 

 great extent in their endeavours to catch him. I am sure that, 

 could huntsmen and hounds choose a motto for themselves, it 



