134 1^^^^ Pytchley Hunt, Past and Present, [chap. . 



gradually departed, and left me at the eud of tlie even- 

 ing with thirty pounds ; therefore only three pounds to 

 the bad/' 



To be obliged to decline a dinner at Pitsford Hall in 

 those days must have caused much the same disappoint- 

 ment that Sydney Smith felt, when in refusing an 

 invitation from a friend, he wrote, " Very sorry can't 

 accept ; got some first cousins. Wish they were once- 

 removed ! ^' 



Possessed of an iron constitution, the Pytchley Master 

 of 1844 knew not the meaning of the word fatigue, and 

 he rarely cared to eat the sandwich he carried with him, 

 the day of the small portmanteau (carried round the 

 second horseman''s waist) having then scarcely com- 

 menced. Quick and impetuous, of a naturally fine 

 temper, the trials and aggravations of a huntsman's life 

 rarely, if ever, elicited an unseemly outburst. In a time 

 of strong words, of which it is not denied that he had a 

 quiver-full, he rarely let out at individuals ; and of the 

 bitter sneer or sarcastic allusion, he absolutely knew 

 nothing. The most frequent recipient of certain words 

 that lurked on the other side of his tongue, was that 

 neatest, nicest-looking, most respectable of grooms, John 

 Cooper. Were he not at hand with the second horse at 

 the right moment, John Cooper might look out for 

 squalls, and mostly came in for one of more or less 

 severity. Always ready to furl sail at any moment, no 

 " old salt '' cared less for a storm at sea, than did this 

 faithful old servant for a land-breeze from his master's 

 mouth. On being sympathized with one day by a strange 

 groom, on having to put up with some expressions that 

 w^ere neither parliamentary nor complimentary, he only 



