THE STAGHOUND 127 



he was speaking to any ritlenian. It was with Mr. Nevill's 

 hounds that Captain Henry Ward of the 60th Rifles was 

 riding a recent purchase of John Tubb's which stopped hah"- 

 way through the run, and, as Mr. Tubb described it him- 

 self, ' went and died,' thus irretrievably disgracing himself. 

 The horse had been most fairly ridden, and the run was in 

 no sense classical, rather the reverse ; but Ward was in a sad 

 way, and at once volunteered to help John Tubb over the loss 

 with something over and above the owner's risk, two guineas, 

 backing up his declarations by an instantaneous tenner. 

 This John Tubb gratefully accepted, but refused to take a 

 shilling more, and ever afterwards cited Henry Ward as the 

 mirror of depot chivalry. It turned out that he had only 

 given 11. 15s. for the horse the day before, so everybody was 

 pleased. 



Lord Wolverton's hounds, with very different conditions 

 of mastership and economics, were much the same as Mr. 

 Nevill's. I was only out with them twice — once with Lord 

 Wolverton, who hunted them himself in Dorsetshire, and 

 once with Lord Carrington, who, I think, also hunted them 

 himself from Wycombe. But I remember both days pretty 

 well, especially the Dorsetshire day. We drove to meet 

 them somewhere in his best country, from Sherborne, a 

 largish party. It was a glorious day late on in the season, 

 and I shall not forget seeing those handsome hounds half 

 swim and half ford a stream and shake themselves dry in 

 the Riviera sunshine. The sky and stream were all blue, 

 the rich grazing lands near the water all emerald, the 

 margins all gold with kingcups. 



And then my heart with pleasure fills, 

 And dances with the daffodils, 



or the kingcups and the bloodhounds, and Lord Wolverton 

 in his green coat on a milk-white horse, which all do quite 



