104 ^-^^ Pytchley Hunt, Past and Present, [chap.ih. 



himself generally popular ; but his Mastership was far 

 from being a complete success. Surrounded by com- 

 panions who delighted to turn night into day^ and who 

 neither in manners nor habits suited the idiosyncrasies 

 of the country gentlemen, the hunting-atmosphere 

 absorbed a taint which soon began to make itself felt. 

 Late to bed meant " late to rise ;" and so great was 

 the unpunctuality at the Meets that a feeling of dis- 

 satisfaction grew to be universal. To be kept waiting 

 upwards of an hour for the Master was not unprovo- 

 cative of impatience, if not anger : but when the delay 

 was caused by the non-arrival of one, who, though 

 afterwards a lady of title, was at no time an ornament 

 to the social inorale, the burden was no longer to be 

 endnred. 



At the close of the season of 1840, Lord Chesterfield 

 shook from oft* his feet the dust of Pytchley entangle- 

 ments, returning into his own county. 



Noble as was the inheritance of the Lord of Bretby, 

 the winnings of a ^^ Priam" and a "Don John," an 

 "Industry" and a ^^ Lady Evelyn,'^ did not suffice to 

 fill the gaps made by rubbers and inordinate expenditure. 

 The vampire " hazard ^^ sucked the life-blood out of a 

 princely estate, and 20O,00OZ. disappeared within the 

 precincts of a Gehenna of St. James's Street, known as 

 Crockford's Club. The end was a mere matter of time. 

 The usual Nemesis awaited the lordly punter ; the wave 

 of ruin swept over fair Bretby and all its pleasant 

 associations ; and after a while, an unpropertied title 

 passed to a far distant kinsman. The Earl heading tbe 

 illustrious " trio ""^ will be referred to when the Woodland 

 potentates come under review. 



