Rise and Progress of the Leicester Dreed of Sheep. 343 
hips, and 10 in. round tho scrag. Of the Lincolns he does not 
speak very charitably, and as merely the fact and not the result 
of his competition with Mr. Chaplin's gimmers is mentioned, it 
would seem that the battle was ajjainst him. Upon his authority 
the Lincolns of that day contained a barrowful of garbage, did 
not feed till they were three-shears, and then ate more than an 
ox. In " Mr. Tindal's great Lincoln, which weighed 67 lbs. a 
quarter," he deigned to claim his part, but the flockmasters — 
" Where Lincoln's bell, 
Flings o'er the fen its pondcrons knell, 
A far renowned alarum." 
were quite as proud as he. " I'd prick him in the nose or eye 
and let it out, if I thought he had any of your blood," said Mr. 
Tindal. " There is Dishley blood in his countenance ; I'd 
know him in the dark by his skin ; can a goose, sir, produce an 
eagle?" was the unbending rejoinder. 
Dishley has not deserted the old sort, but Mr. Bosworth has a 
divided allegiance, and 100 of his ewes are put to a Leicester 
ram and 150 to a Lincoln. The portrait of a two-shear prize 
wether, of Buckley blood, is a highly suggestive companion on 
the dining-room walls to that of " the inventor " of the New 
Leicesters. Of the original buildings none are left save the 
vard gateway, the barn, and the shell of the shepherd's house in 
the fields. The barn, v^hose roof is supported with large beams 
like those of Leicester Castle, is 48 yards by 15, and was once 
the graYiary of the Abbey of Garendon. Within a stone's throw 
of it is the little church, which has been shut up for more than 
twenty years. The lead still clings to its roof, but the doors are 
mouldering on their rust-eaten hinges, and the windows are 
broken in. Pigeons have made their habitation in every pew, 
and hatched their young in the reading desk. As you explore 
the aisle you wander like Ulysses amongst "infinite dung," and 
it takes a diligent student to scrape it away, and decipher the 
flat stone hard by the communion rails, which marks the last 
resting place of our " Shepherd King." We know of no mor- 
tuary parallel save that of the African chieftains, over whose 
kraal-grave the cattle of the tribe are penned on the funeral 
night. 
]Mr. John Breedon of Rotherby was the last survivor of the 
Bakewell Ram Club, whose rules bear date January 5th, 1790, 
and pledged the twelve members (who paid 10 guineas each) to 
" keep the transactions secret upon their honour." Mr. Paget 
was the President of the Club, which held its earlier meetings 
at the Bull's Head and The Anchor at Loughboro' alternately, 
and fined each member a guinea for non-attendance. Mr. 
