A WEEK AT MELTON 57 



and over a wild hunting-like country. To the north 

 of this lie Ashby Pastures, a square wood of perhaps 

 a hundred acres or so, and Thorpe Trussels ; neither 

 of these are very good scenting coverts, and hounds 

 are apt to slip away from them quietly. Indeed, 

 everywhere in Leicestershire it is advisable to be alert, 

 because the undergrowth of thorns and grass in the 

 coverts is thick and hounds cannot say much about 

 the find. 



Nor have I told of the Twyford Vale, which is one 

 of the famous riding grounds of the Shires. It was 

 my lot once to share in a run which took us over this 

 vale and right away to Scraptoft, and we lost a beaten 

 fox at Keyham, Lord Lonsdale finishing on the horse 

 of the whipper-in. Such a ride lives in one's memory, 

 nor have I forgotten seeing the ease and grace with 

 which the late Tom Firr sailed over the vale, never far 

 from his hounds. The sport shown by that great 

 huntsman on Fridays was wonderful when we consider 

 the number of his field. For one thing he never lost 

 his head and, keen as he was — for we felt he enjoyed 

 the sport as much as any of us — he never was too 

 excited to do the right thing. I have seen him lift his 

 hounds clear of a crowd in the morning, and in the 

 afternoon have watched him patiently hunting his fox 

 to death with a failing scent and letting the pack 

 alone to work. The crowd had gone home, and but a 

 small band of followers watched the hunting of the 

 fox with as much enjoyment as they had shown in the 

 quick gallop of the morning. 



This Friday country of the Quorn is full of variety 

 of fences, and a horse must gallop and turn, fly and 

 creep as occasion offers, if his rider is to see the best of 

 the sport. I have not seldom found that people have 

 been disappointed on first coming to Leicestershire, for 



