In the Shires, 79 



convenient wlien crossing a brook. Then the hounds 

 pick up the scent again, and we go away merrily ; 

 ringing about with occasionally a pretty spurt, we run 

 our fox into a wood, and the hounds come to a check 

 for a while, giving time for the enjoyment of a sand- 

 wich, or cigar, as the case may be. We soon pick up 

 the scent again and go merrily away ; the fox is 

 viewed stealing across a wheatfield, and Carter lifts 

 his hounds to the halloo ; then I pull up, not caring to 

 ride across the heaviest land I ever met with, and I 

 turn homewards, passing through the village of Ape- 

 thorpe, the residence of the Earl of Westmoreland, and 

 as I ride through the pleasant private ride, reaching 

 five miles in the direction of Wansford — a charming- 

 place indeed for a woodland ride in springtime — I hear 

 how highly esteemed are the noble lord and lady by 

 their tenants and neighbours. 



The following day I ride a clever pony over to the 

 common, and see two or three nags take their gallops. 

 A thoroughbred chestnut destined to perform in a 

 forthcoming hunt race should carry my money if I was 

 a betting man. Then I have just time to bid good- 

 bye to my friends, and am going at a racing pace in a 

 dog-cart drawn by an ex-hunter, and my youthful 

 driver is good enough to tell me that the nag prefers 

 galloping, so there is little fear of my losing the train. 

 Passing Burghley House, Stamford is reached, and I 

 am soon on the way to Oakham, going through a 

 lovely line of country, looking from a hunting point of 

 view. Half an hour's journey brings me to my desti- 

 nation, and finding that the kennels of the Cottesmore 

 are within a short distance I drive over to Barley- 

 thorpe, and take up my abode at the old-fashioned 



