A WEEK AT MELTON 53 



from her some directions which did not much improve 

 matters, as, hke those of many guides, her instructions 

 were of no use unless you knew the way. So the good 

 Essex sportsman got as " completely lost as if in the 

 desert of Sahara, and in a locality which seemed about 

 equally populous. Here was I fuming and fretting, 

 galloping about among the large grass lands, trying 

 one bridle way after another with alike indifferent 

 success." 



However, Mr. Vickerman found hounds at last, but 

 still we may remember from his experience that it is 

 wiser not to trust to luck. When you do know the 

 way, it is delightful cantering on the living turf in the 

 soft grey misty light of a Leicestershire hunting morn- 

 ing. This is the pleasantest way of going to covert, 

 as it gets one settled in the saddle, brings the riding 

 muscles into play, and prepares the way for the greater 

 efforts to come. However, some people prefer to 

 reserve their strength by driving, not as in Nimrod's 

 day in post-chaises, but a few luxurious ones in 

 broughams, and the majority in pony carts, while, alas, 

 a few are to be seen in motors. 



Now I do not like to be reminded as I go hunting 

 that I am an anachronism by the bee-in-a-bottle buzz 

 of an automobile. I feel inclined to retort to the 

 driver as a college don once did to an undergraduate, 

 when the latter suggested that celibate Fellows with a 

 lifelong tenure were anachronisms : " Possibly, but you 

 must remember that commoners are an excrescence on 

 the system of the University. " 



But, however we may choose to go, the fixture is 

 reached at last, and as many as possible are being 

 packed opposite the quaint old grey hall of Scraptoft, 

 where Hartopps have reigned as long as most of us 

 can remember. Well do I recollect the procession of 



