MR. THOMAS HODGSON 193 



retired to Mr. Greene's for a little needful refreshment. 

 It was about half-past twelve when Mr. Smith 



Went to Shangton Holt, drawing the bottom of the covert only, 

 and then trotted away to Norton Gorse, Mr. Greene's covert, 

 which was also blank. Stanton Wood was tenantless, so were 

 Gorleston Wood and Fallow Close ; Voysey's covert near Hallaton 

 was apparently blank, and Mr. Hodgson was so disgusted at 

 the bad luck which attended the day, that he dismounted, and 

 walking into a part of the covert where there was some very good 

 lying, flogged a fox out himself. Hounds showed plenty of dash; 

 the fox was soon out of covert, and went away towards Homing- 

 hold. Leaving it to the left, he went over some new rails, out of 

 the road, into Mr. Ouseley's farm. This was rather an awkward 

 sort of place. Mr. Smith cleared these rails, as he would have 

 done in his younger days, and having landed on the other side, 

 laughed heartily at some of the falls which took place there. 

 Then the line lay across the Bradleys to Easton Park, where the 

 fox was lost; but it was afterwards ascertained that he had 

 crossed the Welland and gone by Rockingham Park. 



Prince Ernest, it appears, was mounted on a horse drafted from 

 Mr. Hodgson's stud, and the rider, not being accustomed to go from 

 covert to covert at the rate of something like ten miles an hour, got 

 his horse across the road, and was nearly knocked over by some- 

 body who was riding close behind him. " Do you know whom you 

 rode against ? " asked a friend of the offender. " Not 1," was the 

 reply, " but I wish the fellow would stay at home, for he has 

 nearly broken my leg." Then, again, in the course of the run the 

 Prince, going for a fence, crossed a farmer who meant taking it 

 almost at the same place, but pulling up his horse the latter went 

 a little to the right, saying very energetically, as he passed the 

 Great Unknown, " D — n you, sir, why don't you keep your line ? " 

 The Prince, rather upset by the farmer's energetic words, rode up 

 to Lord Cardigan at the first check to inquire, and doubtless 

 received a satisfactory explanation ; but the Prince must have 

 gone away somewhat impressed with the curious deportment of 

 the English farmer, the backbone of fox-hunting. This was a 

 kind of festival week, as on the following day Lord Cardigan turned 

 out a deer at Glooston Wood for the amusement of his visitors. 



The weather had become so hot that the foxhounds 

 could do but little, so the Marquis of Waterford, who 



