74 ^^Ik and Scarld. 



LeicestersWre, almost without a check ; and how, 

 after being bothered by sheep, they dropped to hunt- 

 ing, and, coming up to him, killed him in view at 

 Brunting-Thorpe : how, on another day, they found 

 him at Crick Gorse, ran over Clay-Coton and Lilburn 

 Field, under Hemplow Hill, over Cold Ashby Field, 

 across Naseby Open Field by Sibbertoft, through the 

 corner of Marston Wood, and killed him in the open, 

 close to Marston Trussell, in an hour and seventeen 

 minutes, after one of the most brilliant runs on re- 

 cord ; and again, how, twice in the same year, they 

 found at Crick, and each time killed him in Badby 

 Wood. We could recount many other runs of the 

 highest order, but it might be tedious to those of the 

 present time to read the narratives of days so long 

 past. 

 The Club at Pytchley was at that time in the zenith 

 Pytchiey. ^f j^-g glory. The mornings afforded un- 

 mixed pleasure, and nectar crowned the night. Lord 

 Althorp was a constant attendant ; Frank Forester, 

 Felton Hervey, Dick Gurney, Hugo Meynell, Charles 

 Knightley, Peter and Charles Allix, John Cook, 

 Nethercote and Davey, were generally of the 

 family party. Scotland sent her tributaries in 

 those most excellent men, Sir David and Jame' 

 Baird. The Emerald Isle lent her support also in 

 Lucas and Bruen ; and Tom Grosvenor and Roberts 

 were occasionally of the party. George Fayne (father 

 of the present George) often joined the circle, and no 

 one enjoyed it more. Lord Alvanley now and then 

 came from Melton, and with him mirth, fun, and 

 revelry. Frederick Ponsonby sometimes came over, 

 and also Poyntz, who added life and spirit to the party. 

 The studs were of the first order, and the riders were 

 worthy of them. Jealousy was unknown, and sport — 

 and sport alone — was the object of all. The old 

 gentleman who stalks over the country with a scythe 

 in one hand and an hour-glass in the other has made 



