CHAPTER XXI. 



Sir Charles Slingsby. 



Fifteen years did Sir Charles hunt the pack, showing 

 ever-increasing sport, so that his fame penetrated to the 

 remotest hunt in Great Britain and Ireland, and strangers 

 came from afar to share in the doings of the York and 

 Ainsty, and to see for themselves whether the tales of 

 his prowess were really true. One and all went away 

 thoroughly pleased and satisfied, and returned again the 

 next season, bringing others with them, so that the fields 

 began to wax very large indeed, rivalling even those of 

 the shires. 



The awful accident that happened from the upsetting 

 of the ferry-boat on the Eiver Ure fell like a thunderbolt 

 upon all hunting-fields, and was felt indeed to be almost 

 a national calamity. 



We, who knew him so intimately, and loved him, were 

 almost prostrated with the shock ; while we had to mourn 

 also the loss of other gallant comrades, who were hurried 

 with him to an untimely grave, the tragic circumstances 

 of the case seeming to enhance still further their dreadful 

 fate. 



We had been running very fast, although in a ring, 

 until we neared Copgrove, but on leaving Burton Leonard 

 village, the fox took to running fairly straight, and poor 

 Mr. Eobinson and I were the only persons with the hounds 



