1874—75.] THE WEEK OF THE SEASON. 145 



sine quel noii. There was little jumping — consequently little 

 incident —but there was bursting pace in the gallop round 

 and past Prior's Coppice, through Launde Wood and back to 

 Owston. This, the first act, ended in oblivion there ; but 

 the main venture of the day was from Tilton. We all know 

 how fond foxes usually are of ringing the changes among the 

 multitudinous woods hereabouts — where, happily, however, 

 owners remember they live in Leicestershire, and stamp the 

 trade mark — -fox — on each and all of their possessions. But 

 good genius was at work on this fortunate Tuesday. Two of 

 the noble race went away into the Quorn country (where these 

 others hope shortly to disturb their present security) ; and 

 some seven couple broke with them — only to be brought back 

 together with a luckless company by the whip. Meanwhile 

 Neal, the second in office but now chief of the working staff 

 (West being detained at home by a family affliction) moved 

 down towards the bottom of the covert to a holloa that had 

 something too x)rofessional about its ring to disregard. This 

 was from the voice of Mr. F. Sutton, who was found to be 

 worldng the family throat to a tune that has wakened Leices- 

 tershire many a score of times before. Hounds took up the 

 cue at once — only nine couple of them, but what mattered it 

 on a da}' like this ? Yes, it did matter, as the sequel will 

 show. They ran like wildfire up to Skeffington Hall, where 

 Mr. Tailby was ready to speed the parting guest over the road, 

 and hustle along in his wake as soon as the chorus opened 

 forward — Lord Grey de Wilton, Custance and some rising 

 unknown on a blood chestnut also helping on the van. Really 

 a grand run was this — if others estimate it as highly as it 

 stamped itself on my humble opinion. The oldest of grass, 

 the fairest of fences lie sound Skeffington and Eolleston, and 

 over this perfect country hounds swept on without a check till 

 they even got abreast of the Coplow. What other mark can 

 you put upon such a fifty minutes (up to the first check) than 

 the epithet superb ? Some Avill say, " no fox could live so 

 long." If so, let me point out tliat nine couple of hounds 



