1877—78.] END OF THE SEASON. 245 



You are on terms of declared enmity with no one, from your 

 banker to your bootmaker; and for the moment anger lies 

 dormant even against the beast who kills foxes. Yet there 

 is sadness in the situation, and a weight for which you cannot 

 account presses on your uncovered brow. The scene does 

 not invigorate, but rather wearies. You are oppressed with a 

 sensation of not belonging to the occasion — of an inappro- 

 priateness of presence almost such as when in a nightmare one 

 imagines oneself walking abroad in sleeping attire, or as fell 

 upon a friend of mine who, being engaged to dine at one 

 house, made a mistake in its number, and suddenly became 

 conscious that for five minutes he had been making himself 

 agreeable in the drawing room next door — preparing to honour 

 perfect strangers Avith his compan}^ at dinner. 



The sight of the hounds — with Gillard and his assistants all 

 that is orthodox in pink and cap — rouses you up and makes 

 you feel more at home ; and if you cannot find ten or fifteen 

 minutes' pleasant employment in looking over the "big pack," 

 your long jom-ney has scarcely been worth undertaking. 

 Fashion and class are prominent in every hound as they stand 

 on the paved stableyard below the Castle — bright and glossy 

 in theii" wondrously matched colouring. Conspicuous even in 

 this company is a grand hound, Rockwood (if I remember 

 right) by name. Being half brother to Quorn Watchman (who 

 originally came from Belvoir, and who has earned both prizes 

 in the show yard and credit in the kennel), he is, I presume, a 

 son of the famous Belvoir Eallywood. The latter, by the way, 

 spent much of his old age in idle freedom in the Castle grounds, 

 and at one time amused himself with a great deal of independent 

 himting in the Belvoir Woods. He would scour them for days 

 together; and is known to have thus killed at least three 

 foxes single-handed. One of these was a bobtailed veteran who 

 had beaten the pack for two seasons ; but Eallywood was seen 

 to bring him to bay, then after slaying his foe he trotted quietly 

 off, with stern and bristles up, while the countrymen brought 

 the still warm body to the kennels. I am told that, not long 



