i8o STAG-HUNTING RECOLLECTIONS 



■end of a fine run in spite of eleven bad falls, owing to having 

 blinded his horse, is recorded as a somewhat rare example of 

 grim resolution. Such incidents were taken in perfect good 

 part, and in an ' all in the day's work ' spirit which would 

 cause something like alarm and even unpleasantness in these 

 more narrow-minded days. What for instance should we 

 say to this ? Mr. Assheton Smith and Mr. J. White always 

 rode very jealous of each other. On one occasion they came 

 to a great bullfinch with only one possible place in it. Mr. 

 White got at it first, but stuck fast in the middle of it, to 

 Mr. Smith's great annoyance. ' Kam the spurs in, and pray 

 get out of my way,' says Mr. Smith after a decent interval. 



' If you're in such a d d hurry, why don't you charge 



me ? ' was the rejoinder. Mr. Smith took him at his word, 

 and on they went as if nothing had happened. Or, to the 

 generous sang-froid of one of the many hunting Dukes of 

 Grafton ? The Duke had been thrown into a ditch ; a young 

 curate who was following him stick for stick shouted out, ' Lie 

 still, your Grace,' and cleared him handsomely. The Duke, 

 we are told, on being extricated from his predicament by 

 his attendants, declared himself highly satisfied with such 

 an exhibition of presence of mind, and upon rejoining the 

 hounds promised the young divine his first vacant living. 

 This he carried into effect, remarking to his friends, when he 

 told the story, that if he (the curate) had stopped to help 

 him out, he should never have patronised him. Whilst we 

 are considering the mighty deeds of the past, and in a day 

 of magnum-like flasks and trunk-like sandwich cases, it 

 may here be noted that Mr. Meynell — the hero of the great 

 Billesden Coplow ^ run and the ' Hunting Jupiter ' of his 

 day — always breakfasted on a tea-cup of veal tea, and 



' Feb. 24, 1800. From the Coplow by Tilton, Skeffington earths, to Enderby 

 Warren, crossing the Soar below Whitstone. Twenty-eight miles in 2 hours, 

 15 minutes. 



