1873—74.] THE QUORN IN LUCK. 121 



finish. This finish, however, only came in the shape of dark- 

 ness ; for, when at Guadeloupe Farm (some two miles from 

 Melton) their fox was crawling in the same field with them, it 

 was found imjwssible to do more in the obscurity, and the 

 hounds were taken home. Up to the point where they ceased 

 to run well the time was an hour and thirty minutes, the 

 last hour being fairly fast throughout. Altogether it was a 

 wonderful instance of a fine run being made out of a most 

 indifferent beginning ; for they had hunted up until they placed 

 themselves on good terms with their fox, and were able to 

 show ofi' the grandness of the line to full advantage. To 

 recount such a run is more pleasure to the writer recalling it 

 than he can possibly hope it to be to those who read — unless 

 they too find a charm in bringing memory to bear upon such 

 an event. And undoubtedly they must do ; for look at men 

 after they have really enjoyed such a day as this. They go 

 home in a state of mind that would almost justify them in 

 standing on their heads, or dancing a hornpipe on the dinner- 

 table. There is not one of them but would raise the glass of 

 good companionship to his worst enemy, and forgive him as 

 freely as Mr. Jorrocks did Pigg after the Cat and Custard-pot 

 day. It is the memory of days like these that sends one daily 

 to covert, full of hope and anticipation, in spite of a thousand 

 disappointments. It is this feehng that holds foxhunting so 

 far above staghunting, with all its daily gallops ; and, happily, 

 there is an elasticity about the sentiment, or the minds of the 

 men on whom it acts, that prevents a reverse result producing 

 the opposite effect of ill-temper or despondency. Truly, 

 "Life so varied hath more loveliness in one day than a creeping 

 century of sameness ;" and so we treasure up such occasional 

 draughts of enjoyment, and by aid of memory eke it out again 

 to sweeten scenes of dulness and monotony. I may be set 

 down as ecstatic — but this I do say, that when a " hunting 

 man " commences to divest hunting of its halo of poetry, he 

 not only robs it at once of half its fascination to himself, but 

 gives the surest sign that he is " training off," and that his 



