At Badminton. 71 



this establisliment ; and visitors^ specially invalids 

 trusting themselves to his care^ will ensure themselves 

 attention and kindness,, if I may judge by the style of 

 management exhibited during my brief visits. 



On the Monday morning I started by an early train, 

 travelling to the Yate Station of the Midland Railway, 

 and, on my arrival, I found it was distant some 

 eight miles from Badminton. Passing through the 

 exceedingly antiquated village of Chipping Sodbury, 

 by the Bell, a celebrated meet of the Duke's hounds, 

 past the Cross Hands Inn, a large, rambling building, 

 formerly one of the great posting houses on this road ; 

 noting the fine hunting country I go through, I arrive 

 at Badminton. The sun is shining brightly, the 

 birds are singing lustily, and, after the long continued 

 and depressing wet weather, my spirits rise with the 

 barometer, and incline to a roseate view of things in 

 general and Badminton in particular. Nor are my 

 anticipations this time doomed to disappointment, for 

 a rare treat is in store. At the entrance of the Park 

 is the Portcullis Inn, where visitors will find accommo- 

 dation for themselves and their horses should they 

 wish to pay a passing visit. Badminton ofi*ers no 

 striking architectural features in itself, but is a large 

 and commodious house. Its glory however is its 

 splendid Park, its noble avenue, immense herds of 

 deer — red and fallow — its unequalled kennels, and 

 large and convenient range of stables. A guide being 

 provided, I pass from stall to stall, seeing upwards of 

 sixty horses in condition, besides several stud horses 

 and the perfect Arab sire presented some years since 

 by the Sultan to the Duke of Beaufort. The caution 

 not to go too near to this noble animal is wholly un- 



