54 FOX-HUNTING IN THE SHIRES 



well-mounted, well-equipped servants that used to 

 delight the folk from Leicester in Lord Lonsdale's 

 reign, which struck me, fresh from the provinces, 

 all the more from its novelty. Scraptoft Gorse is just 

 on the borders of the Quorn country, and is reached 

 by a lane which on this occasion was packed as far as 

 eye could reach. Of course there was a fox, for Captain 

 Burns-Hartopp looked after the covert, and equally of 

 course hounds got away, for Lord Lonsdale kept order 

 and Tom Firr hunted hounds. I may be wrong, but 

 it has always seemed to me that between Scraptoft 

 and Keyham is a country as stiff as any in the Quorn. 

 I seem to recollect chasms which only revealed them- 

 selves in their full terrors of ragged water-worn banks 

 when one was already in the air, having jumped 

 apparently at a simple fence. The horse will, how- 

 ever, probably get over if you only sit still and leave 

 his head alone. 



From Scraptoft there is good galloping ground should 

 the fox turn to the Coplow, that blue rounded hill 

 which will tell you where you are going, and if you 

 know any easy places, gaps, gates, or even lanes — and 

 such there are — now is the time to make for them, 

 unless you are able and willing to ride the line of 

 hounds. The stake and bound fences are not high, but 

 they are very firm. The skill of a Leicestershire hedger 

 is not to be surpassed, and now that prizes are given 

 for well-laid fences we may expect them to be more 

 uncompromising than ever. If the Coplow is the point, 

 it is more than likely that you may find yourself in the 

 square wood by the roadside known as Botany Bay. 

 Very likely the fox will turn and go back to Scraptoft, 

 running over the road and skirting the Coplow coverts, 

 crossing the picturesque field below the house and 

 leading you over a hairy fence of thorn. Or, again, 



