24 THE CREAM OF LEICESTERSHIRE. [Season 



instead of twenty. Quick and eager, they dashed away into the 

 valley beyond Thrussington Brickldlns, and struck into the 

 stiffest part of the Quorn country, running straight and hard as 

 when they started. The country rode safely and well on the low 

 ground, though the hills were still deep in snow. A new plashed 

 fence, laid towards you as only the cunning of a Leicestershire 

 hedge-cutter can devise against a boring ox (and with a wide- 

 cut ditch beyond), seemed but a bit of by -play to Major Paynter's 

 loan pony, that could scarce have held his chin over it. Capt. 

 Molyneux and the half dozen on the right got over with a sense 

 of satisfaction, and galloped hard to join the more fortunate body 

 whom the hounds had favoured. The next field put all the 

 leading lot on equal terms ; for one of the bugbears of the hunt 

 (known as the Ox Brook) interposed a stoppage to the direct 

 route, and necessitated a hundred yards' scurry round to a 

 bridge. That it was practicable was proved by one to whom 

 ignorance of the danger was bliss, and who hit off a place where 

 he got safely over, and tailed up the hill after the hounds. On 

 the summit there were twenty men almost abreast, and widely 

 spread, as they flew down over the well-known Hoby bullock 

 fences. May I live to carry age and be as quick and hard as 

 Col. Forester, who was about the " top o' the hunt " at this 

 point. "Forrard ! you beauties, forrard ! " as they chatter gaily 

 through the very fences that brought such grief in the famous 

 " Bobtail run of '68 " (53 minutes without a check, and a kill in 

 the open). Su- Frederick Johnstone on his little brown horse 

 clears the first oxer in the true style that no man in England 

 can beat ; the hog-maned chestnut is over close beside him ; the 

 Master knees the rail bej^ond and comes down a cracker ; while 

 Lord Grey de Wilton rolls over close after him, his brilliant 

 chestnut having the misfortune to pitch just where the post had 

 been knocked out. Crash ! bang ! on the right, like the bursting 

 of a 68-pounder, comes Macbride ; the dark red chestnut is a bit 

 blown, but he has got his forelegs over and staggers up again to 

 do the same at the next fence. Of the rest, some get over, some 

 get down, while others thrust through the holes that have beau 



