io6 FOX-HUNTING IN THE SHIRES 



it possible for a man to live in Leicester and love 

 sport and not to think about hunting. 



Those old sportsmen who chose Leicester as their 

 centre were not far wrong. Oadby Tollbar, just four 

 miles out, is an historic meet ; Scraptoft is barely 

 six or seven miles away, and Syston, though rather 

 suburban, is not far from much good country of 

 the Quorn. Then Leicester has all the Charnwood 

 forest side of the Quorn, which seldom sees a Meltonian 

 at its fixtures, and only now and then a few stray 

 visitors by train from Rugby. I have often thought 

 what splendid lessons in the science of fox-hunting 

 those men must have had who were out with the 

 late Tom Firr on this the less fashionable side of 

 the Quorn. There are stout foxes and no crowd. 

 The country is rough, with woodland and rocks in 

 some parts and in others it is given over to tillage. 

 There is always plenty of room for hounds to work. 

 No one knew when the decisive moment had come 

 to break through the rules of hunting and make a 

 bold cast to avoid a crowd better than the late hunts- 

 man of the Quorn, yet no one took more pleasure 

 in seeing his hounds work out a line patiently and 

 steadily. There never was so notable an instance 

 as Firr of the way in which a huntsman can influence 

 a pack. His hounds always seemed to me to work 

 above their form so to speak, and as a matter of 

 fact they did not do so well in other hands. The 

 pack he had to begin upon was the Craven which 

 Mr. Coupland bought, and Firr in a few years made 

 the hounds not specially notable in looks but 

 wonderful in their work when he handled them. The 

 Leicester sportsmen must have had some splendid 

 days in watching his work. 



The season in which these lines are being written 



