Farewell to the Belvoir. 359 



Having turned my back on the hounds, and bidden 

 farewell for awhile to many friends and pleasant 

 acquaintances made in the hunting field, I trot briskly 

 away in the direction of the Castle. Going by the 

 side of the park, passing Croxton Spinnies — a well- 

 remembered cover — and, descending a steep hill, I 

 find myself at the well-to-do village of Branstone, 

 which lies in the sleepy hollow at its foot ; and from 

 the comfortable cottages, with their trim gardens, 

 and the absence of squalor and poverty too often 

 observable even in some of our prettiest villages, I 

 judge I am within the zone of the ducal demesne. 

 Then, leaving this pleasant spot behind, I journey 

 along, mounting another steep hill, where I observe 

 an extensive, deep, and sullen-looking pool lying 

 between the wooded heights and the red lands which 

 slope down towards its gloomy waters, and from which 

 the title of the county is derived, viz., Kedlandshire, 

 as it is described in ancient books, but which in these 

 times is known by the modern appellation of Kutland- 

 shire. 



Then I pause for a while to listen to the chorus of 

 feathered songsters, in which the notes of the black- 

 bird and thrush predominate, as they carol out a 

 welcome to the approach of spring, a short foretaste 

 of which is given us on this lovely afternoon ; whilst 

 the hares and rabbits come forth from the hedge- rows 

 and covers and bask securely, now the sporting season 

 is ended, in the welcome sunshine ; and the playful 

 lambs frisk about as merrily as little boys were wont to 

 do in the good old days, before school boards were 

 invented, when, under the tuition of the village 

 pedagogue, they learned their A B C at leisure, and 



