Another sporting ecclesiastic who frequented our meets was the Reverend Loraine Smith. He hunted in a purple coat, alleging as his reason that it was an episcopal colour—but I cannot tell what authority he could adduce for wearing bright yellow gloves embroidered in every tint. His Reverence was always well mounted, and was a keen sportsman. He had a pretty living and a good church in the neighbourhood, but he surprised his parishioners very much by altering the whole disposition of the tombstones; he thought they looked awkward and untidy in their actual position, so he had them all taken up and re-arranged according to his fancy in lines, crosses, squares, etc. One Sunday morning, a very cold winter’s day, he had performed the service to a scanty congregation, and on going up into the pulpit, instead of opening his sermon book, he pronounced the following address:
“My dear friends, if you require it, I will preach you the sermon which I have brought with me, but if you are as cold and hungry as I am, I think you will prefer going with me to the Rectory, where you will find some cold beef and some good ale.”
I leave the result of his hearers’ decision to the imagination of the reader.
One of our favourite places of meeting, although one of the most distant, was Cowper’s Oak, on the confines of Salcey Forest. There, one proud day, I proceeded on a small hack, which I exchanged for a splendid black hunter glorying in the name of “Midnight,” and thence, after a quick find, we had a magnificent run extending almost to the town of Higham Ferrers.
How many years have passed since that eventful day, eventful at least in my annals, when Lord Alford, beside whom I rode, invited me to luncheon at Castle Ashby, and offered himself as my guide across country.
I gladly accepted with my two companions, Lord Charles Fitzroy and Mr Smith, and then for the first time I saw that beautiful house whose golden gates have so often since that day been opened to afford me a hearty welcome. My beloved friend, Lady Marian Alford, was then doing the honours of her father’s home, and many and many a laugh have we had in later days, respecting the wild and dishevelled appearance which a very high wind and very strong exercise had wrought in my person. Nay, I remember well that she made on the spot a slight sketch of the scanty portion of my habit which I had been able to rescue from the encroachments of numerous fences. We were twenty-two miles from home, and my kind hosts pressed the loan of their brougham upon me, an offer which I indignantly and ungratefully refused, scorning to abandon my two fellow-sportsmen on their homeward journey. The next day we three traced our long ride on the ordnance maps, and some amusement was excited in the household when it was announced that the groom, whom Lord Southampton had lent me for the occasion, sent word to enquire, the next morning, after the small lady who had ridden sixty-seven miles between breakfast and dinner.
MUSICAL EVENINGS
Before concluding this slight sketch of the happy days I passed at Whittlebury Lodge, which extended over many years, I am tempted to insert a short anecdote, proving how easily fame may be established in some cases. My maid told me that the housekeeper had informed her that Mr Jones, the valet, was so excellent a musician that he was constantly sent for into the drawing-room to perform before the company. His proficiency consisted in pumping the organ for the lady of the house, who was a very good performer on that instrument. We had indeed some excellent musicians and superior vocalists in our society, and the following is a slight record of the way we passed our time—
SONG
“Call back the days that fled too fast