60 THE CREAM OF LEICESTERSHIRE. [Sfason 



to see hounds go their best, and flying easily from one pasture 

 into the next, you can only struggle and wade through green 

 swamps, and scramble wearily over the weakest gaps ; when 

 your best horse gasps and sobs at the end of five minutes, 

 and labours painfully to carr}' his hind legs over a mere gap ; 

 and when hounds fairly leave their field to follow by distant 

 glimi)ses — then are the glorious bursts, of almost every-day 

 occurrence, robbed of half their charm, and men confess to a 

 loss of much of the keen relish that such runs are wont to 

 bring. To see each moment of a good scent putting you at a 

 worse advantage ; to have to drive a generous animal along 

 when all his elasticity is gone, and he can no longer lance 

 boldly over his fences, or stride strongly over the gi'ound, is a 

 work of sorrow, not of pleasure, and damps enthusiasm as 

 quicldy as it is roused. The Romney Marshes and tlie Lin- 

 colnshire Fens, in all their pristine unculture, could scarcely 

 have been more unrideable than are our boasted pastures at 

 the j)resent time. More particularly was full and sorrowful 

 evidence of this forthcoming on Saturday last (March 2nd), 

 the red-letter day of the past week, when Mr. Tailby gathered 

 another laurel from the ground he has so shortly' to rehn- 

 quish. 



Eanksborough that afternoon seemed a very long way after 

 the return for another search of the Punch Bowl ; and the fine 

 country through which the journey lay appeared desperately 

 deep and soppy. 



Ne'er tell ine of glories serenely adorning 



Tlie close of onr day, the calm eve of our night. 

 Give me back, give me back the wild freshness of morning ; 



Her clouds and her tears are worth evening's best light. 



Moreover, " evening's best Hght " gave every promise of a 

 week's frost ; the air was cold and raw, and the grass crisp as 

 a lettuce. But there must be an end of ever3"tliing ; and 

 those who reached the end first were in time to view a white- 

 tipped brush away almost as soon as the hounds were in. He 

 ran the long narrow belt of trees all the way up to Orton Park 



