104 Sportsmen Parsons in Peace and War 



for he jogged about in the wake of the hunt with a groom to 

 open gates for him. One day a stranger came out who was of 

 the same turn of mind, and pottered about after Lord Manners 

 until the latter could stand it no longer, so he turned on his 

 unwelcome follower and said, " Sir, for many years I have 

 enjoyed the exclusive privilege of being last in this hunt " — 

 which was almost as good as Lord Henry Bentinck's masterly 

 rebuke to a man who galloped madly through the pack at a 

 check on a staring ewe-necked mount he could not hold, 

 " May I ask, sir, do you smell the fox ? " 



Lord Scarborough also thought it becoming to go to meets 

 in a resplendent four-in-hand. Brave times, no doubt, but 

 fashions change, and, speaking literally, I suppose these days of 

 the great war are the bravest days the world has ever seen. 

 The modern subaltern would be surprised to know that at least 

 two officers went into action at Waterloo carrying umbrellas 

 without apparently occasioning any surprise or comment ! 



While Dean Hole's brother-in-law, Mr. Francklin, was 

 Master of the Rufford, he improved the pack considerably by 

 introducing Belvoir blood. Hole married Miss Caroline Franck- 

 lin in 1861, daughter of Mr. Francklin of Gonalston, in Not- 

 tinghamshire. 



The only time Hole hunted with "the Belvoir was while the 

 great Duke of Wellington was visiting that country, and all the 

 neighbourhood turned out in its thousands to see the General. 

 They crowded the hillside at the meets just as the vast con- 

 course did at the pre-war opening meets of the Devon and 

 Somerset staghounds on Cloutsham Ball. In these days it is 

 difficult to think of anybody for whom half the county would 

 turn out at a meet purely for the pleasure of gaping. The 

 forms that hero-worship often took in those days fairly set 

 twentieth-century teeth on edge (those few twentieth-century 

 people who have any). When John Leech attended one of the 

 annual Fetes des Roses given by Hole, the guests literally 

 fawned on him, calling him by such names as " Delight of the 

 Nation," and so on. They also continually pestered the 

 unhappy man by drinking his health in claret-cup. 



The standard of taste has altered, surely for the better, and 

 it is now almost inconceivable how they can have been so gross. 

 The classic example of this sort of thing was on the occasion of 



