176 THE CREAM OF LEICESTERl^HIRE. [Season 



in Heaven's name wants him to "ride," if lie doesn't choose 

 to ? He comes out for his own pleasm'e ; let him take it as 

 seems best to him. But it is pitiable work, and the more 

 pitiable because alwaj's palpable — the proppmg up a reputation 

 Avith excuses, when the power to maintain it no longer exists. 

 It avails not in the present ; but rather throws ridicule on the 

 past — a past which, left alone, might speak worthily for itself. 

 But who shall deny honour to old age, when in spirit and in 

 deed it can not only show its vigour unimpaired, but can still 

 take a lead in a field where we think young blood must best be 

 served ? 



Two raking down-hill pastures now, and Whissendine is in 

 view on our left, the pace tremendous still, and hounds with a 

 clear start over the road in front. The famous stream of 

 Whissendine is but a j)ony's leap hereabouts ; but the two 

 strong laid fences that come next, both leaning down the hill 

 towards you, are a sore effort to a half-blown horse. The 

 pack dive into a little spinney. You congratulate yourself 

 that all is the i^lainest sailing. You are on the best of terms 

 with hounds and yourself, when the former divide on a fresh- 

 found fox ; the huntsman (as you, of course, think) takes them 

 on with the fresh one, and you are left, when the whip sweeps 

 down on yoiw section of the pack, to stare at 3'our watch and 

 upon several faces as vacant as your own. 



But trul}' — yes, truly, though the circumstances of the case 

 may appear somewhat unfavourable to veracity on this point — 

 tltis twenty-five minutes was the whole pith and kernel of the 

 run ; for the chase beyond only took a half-mile circle round 

 Whissendine village to end abruptly. To the spot of division, 

 or of stoppage, it was brilliant. Further comment I need not 

 stop to give ; for there are two other brisk items of Avhich to 



tell. 



A journey to Laxton's Covert was fruitful only in the news 

 that a fox lived up a tree close to Berry Gorse, a mile further 

 on ; and had learnt to deem it so much his home that, the 

 informant added, he invariably returned to his lodging within 



