1876—77.] ■ FROM STAPLEFORD. 175 



moment to amend for your late struggle. Dashing down a 

 hedgeside, where tlieir fox has turned leftwards in his course, 

 they hurry you on again over the grass, and jon must splash 

 knee-deep through the wet gateway, shout " Ware hole ! " at 

 the top of your voice, as Providence takes you galloping in 

 safety over a honeycombed bridge ; then turn as sharp as you 

 can over the fence to your right. The thorns are high and 

 black, and a brace of men are brought round by refusal before 

 IVIr. Grey swishes through the top twigs. Now take a lead 

 from Mr. Cecil Chaplm and his gallant lady, over the stiff 

 timber into the lane ; catch hold of your horse tight through 

 this acre of smothering plough ; and with them, or as near as 

 you can, pop in and out of the string of little meadows beyond. 

 The dark oak rail that looms on the far side of yon stiff stake- 

 and-bound proclaims you are entering 'on the strong-fenced 

 bullock grounds of "Whissendme. Pull your panting steed 

 together and harden your heart, for there is no choice but to 

 have it, or surrender ignominiously. That stout old sports- 

 man from the north will give you a lead again. Steadying 

 the chestnut almost into a canter, he bounds over the 

 whole in his stride ; and close behind him there rattles over 

 another as gre}' and as good. No shame to you that you 

 accept a lead from two such elders as these. We are wont to 

 boast that our generation produces bolder and better riders 

 than that of our fathers, and that the men of our j^resent youth 

 outdo even the heroes of Mr. Apperley. But what have you to 

 say, sportsmen who dare retire 2X forty, pleading failing nerves 

 or exhausted stamina, when you look upon three-score-and-odd 

 leading the flower of Melton and of Leicestershire, as it has 

 done time after time this season ? It cuts the ground from 

 under your feet. You have nothing to urge but that you are 

 made of inferior stuff. You won't own that ; but at least be 

 silent or honest. There is no surer sign that the mettle is 

 gone forth out of a man than when he informs you that he 

 doesn't " mean to ride to-day," alleging depth of ground, blind 

 fences, or aught else in paliation. Qui s'excuse s accuse. Who 



