CHAPTER XXII

A WEEK IN LEICESTERSHIRE

By Major A. E. Burnaby

MASTER OF THE QUORN

I THINK I can best describe High Leicestershire by giving a résumé of a week’s sport with the packs who hunt over the country so aptly described by an American sportsman staying at Melton, who, writing to a friend at home, said: “Come over here, it is like riding in the Garden of Eden!”

It has been my good fortune to have hunted for many years with all the packs that hold sway in Leicestershire, namely, the Belvoir, the Cottesmore, the Fernie, and the Quorn, and at various times in all parts of their countries, but this short chapter is confined to the environs of Melton Mowbray. From this centre it is possible to hunt six days in the week over the grass. There are many parts of the countries hunted over by these packs in which they show excellent sport and which are ideal for those who love to see hounds at work, but, from the point of view of the visitor from abroad or the provinces—these come like Mr. Sawyer, in the well-known book, Market Harborough, to hunt on the grass.

The meet on the Monday was with the Quorn at Willoughby on the Wolds. Their Monday country is partly in Nottingham, and it so happens that Willoughby is just on the borders of that county, the brook 100 yards from the village being the county boundary. Following the brook up-stream you come to Ellars Gorse, so named from the former owners, but now the property of Mr. C. J. Phillips of Old Dalby Hall, one of the best supporters of hunting in both the Quorn and the Belvoir countries. It has been said that a fox found at Ellars in the regular season is worth at least £100 so perfect is the situation; indeed, to my mind it stands out as the best small fox covert in Leicestershire. It was in a gallop from this covert, some few years ago, that the Prince of Wales first won his spurs as regards riding over Leicestershire. On that occasion hounds ran hard for twenty minutes, and H.R.H. finished by jumping a really big post and rail fence into the field where hounds rolled over their fox. On the present occasion hounds opened as soon as they had crossed the bridge over the brook into the covert and scarcely a minute elapsed before there was a holloa away at the top end. The covert is bounded on one side by a ploughed field, so that to get to hounds we had to make our way down the ride of the covert and gallop right-handed at best pace. After jumping a fence at the top we could see hounds streaming away right-handed almost up to the road two fields away, making straight for Wymeswold. This parish is possessed of the most entrancing country, every fence negotiable, not a strand of wire, and rather small enclosures. Away we flew until just for a moment hounds checked, as we were coming down a slope with Walton Thorns ahead of us. This is one of the best coverts on this side and belonged to J. D. Cradock, who for years acted as Hunt Secretary to the Quorn as did his father before him. It was bought a year or two ago by Sir Julien Cahn, who also bought the covert known as the Curate, a very philanthropic act of kindness.

Hounds raced away and did not even dwell in crossing the three roads on their way to Ragdale Wood, one of the strong-holds of this side. The Hon. Alan Penington lived at Ragdale for some years, beloved by everyone who knew him, except perhaps a few who feared his wit, which was particularly pungent. An equally good sportsman in every way is the present owner, Major P. Cantrell Hubbersty, and one of the best over Leicestershire into the bargain.

On this occasion there were several foxes in the wood, but the bitches I think stuck to their own fox, driving him away past the Hall, and, before we had realised it, we were racing across the Hoby Vale. Always carrying a scent, the fields are big, some indeed 100 acres, and the fences are strong. The farmers round here are the best; one of them told me recently that after one of the fastest gallops, so well had all the horses jumped, that not a single binder had been broken. So much for a Quorn field. We ran our fox to ground in the breeding earths at Shoby after a first-class hour and ten minutes.

Perhaps a mile away lies Bridget’s covert, named after a niece of Mr. C. J. Phillips, and a very pretty one at that; it invariably holds a fox; sometimes he runs the way you want him to and sometimes he runs for the woods lying to the east, but to-day the pack hunted him over the best line, quite flat, with scarcely a gate and a great deal of jumping as the enclosures are small. It is a very difficult country even for the oldest sportsman to recognise. There is but one thing to do, sit down and ride and take the fences as they come, as unlike so much of Leicestershire, you cannot ride wide of hounds and hope to see them. With a screaming scent, we left the Curate two fields on our left, ran over Hickling standard and killed our fox on the banks of the Smite, the historic stream dividing the Quorn from the Belvoir, a point of six miles.

On Tuesday the meet was with the Cottesmore at Whad-borough Cross Roads—what more could one wish for with Owston Wood to draw, not two fields away? In selecting Ellars Gorse as the best small covert, I also select Owston Wood as the best large covert in Leicestershire. It is about 100 acres, was formerly the property of Sir Geoffrey Palmer, and now belongs to Mr. James Baird, the Master of the Cottesmore. There is no finer country than that which bounds it on the north. The wood is big enough always to hold a bold fox and makes a knowledge of venery a necessity, both to enable a huntsman to get hold of his hounds and to ensure that the riders are not left behind when the pack streams away. I have seen many tricks tried in order to prevent being left. One particular follower used to sneak ahead of hounds as they were drawing, on the down-wind side, always pretending to be deaf to the shouts of the Master and the field, and many a time was he left nevertheless, when hounds raced away with a fox on the up-wind side. Alas, he hunts no more or I would go far to see him try it on again.

There have been many fine runs to and from Owston Wood. One which took place in October during Mr. William Baird’s long Mastership stands out in my mind. Gillson was hunting the hounds who slipped away past Owston village and ran quite straight to Barkby Holt. There was much gnashing of teeth, as there were but eight riders with them, and it was a point of eight miles. On the present occasion there was a touch of east in the wind and a capital scent. Hounds found at once, and forcing their fox away on the Knossington side ran fast past Lady Wood, another of Mr. Baird’s coverts, to the far-famed Ranksborough Hill. The gorse grows well here and its situation is most attractive. It is now the property of the Marquess of Londonderry, who bought it from the executors of the late Lord Ranksborough, who on being raised to the peerage from being General Brocklehurst (Big Brock) took this as his title. He was a fine horseman and believed in riding slow at his fences, a method which he found very successful. He was Master of the Cottesmore for two years. We must have changed at Ranksborough and hounds ran back smartly through Prior’s Coppice, a very good covert belonging principally to Lord Exeter. Thence they continued down the big fields which slope to the brook with Leigh Lodge well to the left and so into Launde Park Wood when they killed their fox. A fine performance over a very trying country for horses on account of the steep undulations. There was never a ploughed field, and whilst riding wide of them you could still watch the hounds who covered fully ten miles as they ran.

There are two woods belonging to Launde, the Park Wood, which is not in the Park, and Launde Big Wood, which is, and happens also to be the smaller, both the property of Colonel Dawson. After breaking up their fox hounds drew the latter and ran nicely into the woods beyond Loddington, eventually reaching Tilton Wood. All these woods, including Tugby Wood and Bushes, Browns Wood, Skeffington Wood, belonged formerly to Lord Berners, who then owned the Keythorpe property, but a few years ago the property was sold and split up. Mr. Baird again stepped in and bought Skeffington Wood, Loddington Wood belongs to Mr. Oxey Wright, a well-known sporting farmer, and Tilton Wood to another of the same breed, Mr. Holmes. From the latter in the Mastership of the late Mr. Evan Hanbury I remember one of the best gallops it has been my good fortune to see over Leicestershire. Arthur Thatcher hunted hounds and, after possibly forty minutes spent in the woods, hounds drove their fox away across the Skeffington Vale to Noseley, Sir Arthur Hazlerigg’s place in the Fernie country; from here hounds turned, running a nine-mile point past Vowes Gorse and East Norton, leaving Belton right-handed, over the Hog’s Back and killed their fox in the open between Cheseldyne Coppice and Knossington. The pace was a cracker, the hills tremendous, and many horses were stone cold. I have a pad of the fox, and I remember the late Lord Annaly, then Master of the Pytchley, was out on that day.

On the following day of the week’s sport I rode on to meet the Belvoir at Thorpe Arnold which is close to Melton and one of their best Wednesday meets. The weather was mild and there was scarcely any wind. The Belvoir are famous all over the world for their hounds, and were it not that others are writing on that subject, it would have perhaps not have been out of place to have written a short article on some of their best stallion hounds during the last fifty years.

The Dukes of Rutland, to whom the Belvoir Hounds have belonged from their inauguration, have done a great deal for the sport of fox-hunting and in a very handsome manner. The Belvoir estate, in spite of the sale of a great portion of it, still comprises 10,000 acres, and provides innumerable foxes. Major T. Bouch, who was Master of the Belvoir for several years, bought Burbages Covert during his Mastership, selling it subsequently to the Hunt. It lies on the boundary of the Cottesmore, the river Eye dividing the countries. It is a sure find and on this occasion there was a quick response, the fox not facing the water, but heading straight for Marshall’s Covert. This for years had been known as Melton Spinney, but when Captain Marshall Roberts bought it during his Mastership of these hounds, the name was changed to the present one. Whichever way you run from Marshall’s, after a couple of fields you come to a brook. There is a ford in each, of course, but if hounds are running you had best have a cut at the open water which is quite jumpable, though many have fallen in in trying to negotiate one or the other. Away hounds flew over the railway to the left of Scalford across the Melton road straight for Old Hills, a delightful covert not far from the Quorn boundary, namely, the Melton and Kettleby road. Then without dwelling a moment they raced away past Clawson Thorns down to Clawson village and killed him. What a panorama was unfolded as we came down the hill, with the whole of the vale before us stretching for miles! This was a typical Belvoir burst and took twenty-five minutes, the point being six miles. When these dog hounds really run few horses can live with them. The order was given for Clawson Thorns which we had already passed close by a mile or so back. Sometimes from here the foxes run the fringe of the hills and eventually get to the Belvoir Woods, but on this occasion they hunted their fox to Goadby Gorse, now belonging to Mrs. Sheriffe. She and the late Captain Sheriffe bought it when the Belvoir estates were split up, and so well do they look after it that there is always a fox. Hounds went away with a brace, and before we seemed to realise it we were across the valley beyond and running into Croxton Park. This takes no time to write, but it takes a bit of doing on the back of a horse with hounds hunting on. Croxton Park must be 500 acres; up to recent years there was held there a delightful race meeting every spring. It was perhaps one of the best tests of stamina of 2½ miles in England and has often been compared with the course at Doncaster. Alas, the races no longer take place. One of the attractions was a private sweep-stake for maidens at six years old, two miles and a quarter on the flat, which produced some good horses and was extremely difficult to win. We hunted across the Park on to Mr. David Ward’s farm. Everyone knows this fine example of a real British yeoman. He makes the best after-dinner speech imaginable; he has four sons on whose behalf he once offered to challenge H.M. the King’s four sons over a country! We lost our fox here after an excellent day’s sport.

On the Thursday I hunted with the Fernie—now under a joint Mastership—Sir Harold Wernher and Captain Edmonstone. For thirty years the late Mr. C. W. B. Fernie reigned over this country which formerly belonged to the Quorn, and up to the death of Sir Richard Sutton it was hunted by the latter. Then on Lord Stamford taking over the Mastership in 1856 the late Mr. W. W. Tailby took over the present Fernie country, in addition to which he was subsequently lent a big slice of the Cottesmore country up to the Melton and Oakham road, the whole forming as fine a country as could be wished for. After him came Sir Bache Cunard, who was succeeded by Mr. Fernie, who lived at and afterwards bought Keythorpe. Beloved by all he died in 1919, and the Quorn relinquished any imaginary rights they had to the country, which Lord Stalbridge afterwards hunted for five seasons. The Fernie Thursday country is magnificent. The going is perfect in any weather, for the nearer you get to Market Harborough the better the land. The fields are very big and you require a first-class bold horse that can both gallop and extend himself. In the days when “Charles” Isaac hunted these hounds for Mr. Fernie, the former had an uncanny knowledge of the run of a fox as did his nephew Tom Isaac, who hunted the Cottesmore for two seasons up to his death. Charles generally managed to hunt his fox well into the Quorn Friday country no matter where he found him, either at Noseley, Shangton Holt, or Tamborough Hill. In those days (nearly forty years ago) we all enjoyed ourselves enormously, especially those of us who were hunting from Melton, and as it was before the days of motors we generally left a hack out on the borders of the Quorn country, and many a time have I seen hounds finish at Barkby Holt or Adams Gorse.

Noseley, which belongs to Sir Arthur Hazlerigg, now the Lord Lieutenant of Leicestershire, is perhaps their greatest stronghold for foxes; we met there on this occasion. Sir Arthur, who is a fine sportsman, does not hunt himself, but sees to it that there is always sport from his coverts. We found at once, running over some of their finest country. How we reached Burton Overy, a distance of three miles or more, I cannot quite say, as the pace was too good to notice. From here the fox had turned and the hounds had to hunt, which they did in a first-class manner. Passing Illston, which was built by the late Colonel Baillie of the Blues, hounds turned again, and the fox made his point which proved to be Glenn Gorse, now the property of Sir M. Levy, thus registering a point of just over six miles over a grand country. The turf is springy, sound, and it carries a rare scent usually, as it did on this occasion.

Sheep Thorn was our next draw; a perfect covert in appearance and as good as it looks. Perhaps there are a few gates handy hereabouts to let the crowd through, but scarcely anybody on a Fernie Thursday field bothers about these, certainly not one of the Masters, who is reputed to have taken a real fall on one occasion, when in order to extricate himself from under his horse, both his boots had to be cut off. Undaunted, however, and in spite of finding himself and his horse still on the take-off side, he put his boots on again, mounted, had another go at it, and got over. I may say the fence was timber with a wide ditch and wired. But there is now very little wire in this country, which was also unknown in Mr. Tailby’s day. We ran on to Shangton Holt which now belongs to Major Guy Paget, who goes very well over Leicestershire, and thence over what is perhaps the most delightful bit of this lovely country, the Ashlands valley. It is overlooked by Tamboro’ Hill, a wellknown covert, and both to and from it there have been many delightful hunts. I think the best that I can remember was one from Slawston when these hounds crossed a fine undulating country without touching a covert or a ploughed field, and killed their fox close to Ingersby in the Quorn country, registering a point of eight miles. Sir Harold Wernher, joint Master since 1924, has done a great deal for sport in this country.

On the Friday we were out again with the Quorn who met at Beeby, a hamlet lying in the valley through which runs a brook past Barkby into the Wreake. Beeby now belongs to Mr. Fielding Johnson, who farms extensively and is a great supporter of fox-hunting. The first draw, Scraptoft Gorse, is one of his coverts. It lies dangerously near to the outskirts of Leicester, but is so well looked after that it always holds a fox. It is not far from the Fernie border, but with a southerly wind foxes run across the Keyham country, the owner of which, Mr. H. T. Hincks, always welcomes hounds. He used, I may mention, to be a fine heavy weight before he gave up a year or so ago. You can jump the fences anywhere, and hounds usually run fast over it as they did to-day for fifteen minutes. This was one of those brilliant bursts which satisfy the whole of the field whether they see it or not. We ran exactly a three-mile point, crossing over three brooks (none of them easy unless you know the bridges), namely, the brook below Keyham village, the one which runs under Hungarton Foxholes, and that which flows past Quenby Park to Hungarton village. It must have been instinct which prompted the powers to draw Barkby Holt next. There was a strong wind blowing from the south, and most of the field went to the down-wind side of this celebrated eighty-acre covert. The fox went away at once on the opposite side, and the hounds ran hard towards Barkby. Thereabouts they turned and raced straight up-wind for twenty-two minutes, putting their fox to ground eventually in one of the breeding earths in the Coplow Hill. They had very few attendants, and it was a point of four miles and five as they ran.

What memories are stirred by the names of Barkby Holt and the Coplow! Below the latter lies Botany Bay. Between them they cover about eighty acres of land, and they are surrounded by some of the finest and wildest pastures of High Leicestershire. The ridge running to Tilton is 700 feet above sea level. They belong to Mr. J. d’Arcy Hartley, who during his life has hunted 3220 days; some record! He is a great preserver of foxes and the sport annually registered from his coverts is endless. I cannot pass on without alluding again to Barkby Holt, the property of Mr. Victor Pochin, who also owns Woodwell Head, a good covert in the Cottesmore country. It was from the Holt that the Quorn had a fine hunt during the Earl of Lonsdale’s Mastership, Tom Firr being then huntsman with Fred Earp first whipper-in. Hounds ran for two hours and forty minutes with a point of fourteen miles and twenty-three miles as they actually ran. Their fox got to ground in Bolt Wood, Stockerston, in the main earths; this was on December 14th, 1894.

Space does not permit me alluding to many more; on the present occasion as we had disturbed Mr. Hartley’s coverts by running to ground with hounds in full cry, the order was given for the Prince of Wales Covert at Baggrave. The present covert originally consisted of gorse, the first seeds of which were sown by the late King Edward VII when Prince of Wales in the ’70’s, and in the time of the writer’s father, General E. S. Burnaby. It is now blackthorn and privet. Captain F. Forester told me that twenty-five minutes from here to Glenn Gorse in a snowstorm with a seven-mile point was perhaps the fastest gallop he had seen, and he has had much experience as Master of the Quorn for many years and also with other packs. It is not often that a man rides the winner of two Cambridgeshire’s across Leicestershire, but this was that fine sportsman Captain Forester’s good fortune with Christmas Daisy. It was in the season 1895–6 that hounds found sixteen times from October 25th to April 2nd in this covert of only sixteen acres—not a bad record! To-day hounds hunted over the Twyford Valley, strongly fenced and sound going, and we had the Twyford brook to negotiate too. Bending slightly we ran into Ashby pastures belonging to Sir Francis Burdett, who is a great upholder of sport. This is another of the largest coverts on this side, occupying eighty acres of land. Who has not seen the prints of the run from Ashby pastures finishing up over the Whissendine? Mention of that “dull-flowing stream of historic disasters” must be reserved for to-morrow when with the Cottesmore to wind up our week’s sport we shall meet at Wilds Lodge.

The field in which the Cottesmore meet lies alongside the Melton—Oakham road, and from it you can see to the north Burton racecourse, which stretches up to the village of that name, and the Hall built some fifty years ago by the late Colonel Sam Ashton. To the south lie the woods around Little Dalby Hall, where the Hartopps lived for years and now owned by Colonel and Mrs. Burns-Hartopp. The Colonel was Master of the Quorn for seven seasons, and no one had a better cut at the fences than he did. To the right of Dalby lies Gartree Hill, a very famous covert on the Dalby estate and from which hounds have registered many a fine hunt; it is a sure find for the Quorn and is on the edge of their country and also of the so-called Burton Flats, in the middle of which lies the meeting-place of to-day. There are several spinneys on the flats and perhaps the largest is Berry Gorse, where hounds were put in this morning. There was a brace of foxes who left simultaneously, going side by side up the hill to the road which they crossed. The bitches carried a good head and again it looked as if there was a good scent. Three fields beyond the road lies a stream which is named the Little Whissendine; it runs from Leesthorpe along the valley by Whissendine Station. Hounds crossed this stream and ran on pretty straight for a mile, and when they turned left-handed and with Whissendine village on their right, the main Whissendine brook appeared in view.

Hounds were running fast enough to make it obligatory to jump the obstacles as they came, in order to keep with them. It is ever thus. Those who come to the open water in their stride get over, but when the easier places become congested by refusing horses and half-hearted riders some are sure to get in. Hounds are running on now, and a number of riders preferring to avoid a ducking, have ridden through the village street, and will join in a field or two behind, as they make for Ashwell spinney. Unfortunately they have gone on with a fresh fox, although they hunted on as far as Langham without dwelling. Had they not changed in Ashwell spinney I think they would have killed.

It was a fine hunt over a splendid country and six miles as hounds ran. We were now rather out of our draw, which under ordinary circumstances would have been the strongholds at Stapleford belonging to Colonel John Gretton, one of the best supporters of these hounds. His coverts are always a sure find whether here or at Freeby Wood in the Belvoir country. The Master decided to draw Oakham pastures which lie beyond Barleythorpe, being the hunting-box of the Earl of Lonsdale. He is famous enough as a sportsman not to need perhaps anything from my poor pen, but I cannot pass him by—a man of infinite kindness, I have not seen a better horseman in my lifetime. He has done a great deal for the sport of fox-hunting, and indeed has always been an outstanding figure in the world of sport. He has been Master of the Burton, the Woodland Pytchley, the Quorn, and the Cottesmore, each for a considerable period. He carried on the latter during the war with George Leaf, who came from the Quorn, as huntsman. Captain Forester, who was the Master of the Quorn, meanwhile hunted hounds himself and showed excellent sport. Hounds, to continue, found in Oakham pastures and ran on into Burley Park, the home of the Finch’s, where they killed their fox. Burley is beautifully situated, the woods are ideal for shooting, and there is always a fine show of foxes. The same may be said of another celebrated covert in the Cottesmore country, Wardley Wood, formerly owned by the late Sir Arthur Fludyer, and now by Mr. James Finch, and many have been the fine hunts over the magnificent country which encircles it. But alas, my week’s holiday is over or I would go to meet the hounds at Wardley on the following Saturday, assured, so far as is possible, of a good day’s sport.