hi the Shires. 77 



through Catworth, and giving a merry little spin over 

 this fine hunting country ; but this time the clever 

 huntsman cannot^ according to his usual custom, pull 

 down his fox, and after a fair run he is lost — though I 

 was afterwards told he was so beaten as to be unfortu- 

 nately killed by a sheep-dog who was lurching about^ 

 veritably falling out of the frying-pan into the 

 fire. 



On Thursday the Fitzwilliam met at Cotterstock, on 

 the lawn of the hunting-box of the Marquis of Huntly. 

 Starting a little late, I am taken to cover at a rattling 

 pace by a pair of *^ goers/'' and as we fly through the 

 quiet old villages I have only time for a glance at the 

 small remaining ruins of Fotheringay Castle, where 

 Mary Queen of Scotts was so ruthlessly beheaded ; 

 and as we approach the Valley of the Nene we find 

 the water is so much out that for nearly a mile it is up 

 to the middle of the wheels, and we splash through as 

 best we can till the village of Cotterstock is reached. 



A pretty scene meets the eye on our arrival. 

 George Carter and his noble pack of hounds are seen 

 standing on the lawn, with the two whips in close 

 attendance ; the hounds disportiug themselves on the 

 green lawn or rolling on the turf, which is dotted all 

 over with groups of snowdrops in full bloom. In the 

 road at the bottom of the lawn a large number of 

 sportsmen and sportswomen are assembled, amongst 

 whom I notice the Earl and Countess of Westmore- 

 land and Lady Grace Fane, well mounted ; the Mar- 

 quis of Huntly, on Pathfinder, the winner of the 

 Liverpool Steeplechase; Lord Carysfort, Lord Esme 

 Gordon, Lord Lyveden, Count Lemberg, Frank 

 Gordon, Mr. and Miss Vipan; Charlie, Frank, and 



