THE NEW YEAR IN. ]27 



lie may scramble over the line. Bat lie puts you at the 

 mercy, and as it were at the feet, of others. He does 

 what lie is obliged ; and does that badly. He has no 

 soul, no enterprise, no love for the business — and dares 

 you to indulge in the ephemeral prompting of ambitious 

 foolino;. You can't leave him at home : for what with 

 the young ones going lame, and the old ones going sore, 

 the weather mild, everybody hunting every day, he must 

 take his turn — and you (not I, for we never confess to 

 our fixilures) must make the best of a bad bargain. 



But, as I was about to say, runs sterling, fast, and 

 decisive — such as we like to consider and report as 

 typical of Leicestershire — have not been freely illustrating 

 the pages of its recent history. A grand and very 

 venerable authority, the Rev. John Russell (whose lately 

 published Memoirs should move the heart of every fox- 

 hunter) gave it as a doctrine that there " is never a scent 

 on a quite still day." Now the weather of late has been 

 heavy, dull and oppressive — and the sport has kept tune 

 to it. If I may dare to propose an amendment on a 

 subject so inscrutable, I would suggest autumn stillness 

 and winter imid (never a brewing or growing storm) as 

 possible conditions — founded on recent seasons. But let 

 older heads rebuke me — bidding me Hold my j^eace, and 

 Look out for a run that may come at any time ! 



Barometer and thermometer, however, had better be 

 put to a practical use — if comfort in riding be an object. 

 I mean on the minor point of how to clothe. Hot 

 leathers and Newmarket "sweaters" (I make no apology 

 for touching on articles of apparel that in these en- 



