1874—75] ALL FOOLS' DAY, 1875. 1G3 



The sport then for three weeks was rare ; 



Earer soon till it vanished in air ; 



Three weeks more of snow, 



Till the March wind did blow ; 



And the end of the chase was despair. 



The saddling bell at Croxton Park has rung out its knell; 

 while that of the Melton Steeplechases has called to its 

 funeral feast. 



The final meet of the Quorn was on Thursday, April 1st, at 

 Brooksby Hall, where we read once lived " George Villiers, 

 Marquesse of Buckingham, whose sweet disposition and ex- 

 cellent gifts of nature made manifest to the world that his 

 Majesty was guided by his accustomed sharpe understanding 

 and solid judgment in choosing such a subject, most fit to 

 receive his favours, and in implo}dng such a servant most ready 

 to communicate his majesties goodness to all worthy persons." 

 Let us hope he proved himself deserving of such a long-winded 

 panegyric and of such a situation, by hunting his six days 

 a week and bidding many such gatherings to the old hall as 

 assembled to-day. Verily, the old marquis would more likely 

 have swooned away, and even the trembling Wreake have 

 "dived beneath its bed," if such a multitude had arrived to 

 join in the old-fashioned chase at break of day. However, it 

 was not at break of day, but at eleven o'clock, or comfortably 

 thereabouts, that the modern and enormous field moved ofF, 

 and, after spreading themselves far and wide over the countiy 

 while the Brooksby Spinneys were being drawn, eventually 

 found themselves at Cream Gorse. The day was a fine 

 and pleasant one, on which to say farewell to the noblest of 

 sport ; but the dull clatter of your hack's feet, as you can- 

 tered thither over pasture or roadside, seemed to say, "Yours 

 is indeed a pastime for All Fools' Day ! " Yet, though, as 

 everyone who has a stable is but too well aware, the last three 

 weeks have wrought more damage to joints and sinews than all 

 the easy months before, no one was absent from this final 

 levee. The Quorn Hunt were there to a man (or woman) ; 

 while divers familiar and unfamiliar faces, called together for 



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