He was well mounted upon a strong, half-breed horse; rode always foremost, following the hounds with the same steady pertinacity with which he would have followed the enemy, his compressed lip rarely opening for a laugh when even the most ludicrous misadventure was enacting before him; and when by chance he would give way, the short ha! ha! was over in a moment, and the cold, stern features were as fixed and impassive as before.
All the excitement, all the enthusiasm of a hunting-field, seemed powerless to turn his mind from the pre-occupation which the mighty interests he presided over, exacted.

I remember once an incident which, however trivial in itself, is worth recording as illustrative of what I mean.

We were going along at a topping pace, the hounds, a few fields in advance, were hidden from our view by a small beech copse.

The party consisted of not more than six persons, one of whom was Lord Wellington himself.

Our run had been a splendid one, and as we were pursuing the fox to earth, every man of us pushed his horse to his full stride in the hot enthusiasm of such a moment.
"This way, my lord, this way," said Colonel Conyers, an old Melton man, who led the way.