This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1909 Excerpt: ... stranger walked straight up into the house from the road. Explaining his alteration, he had said that Leicestershire houses had no manners, and he did not like their rude habit of turning their backs on the passers by In his odd moments Gay farmed more or less vigorously. It was a scriptural amusement that in no way interfered with the business of his life, which was hunting; and his luck was a miracle to the many who tried to combine the two; retired soldiers and younger sons with faith in their capacity and a little money to lose in keeping unprofitable horses and, theoretically, profitable cows. This morning he had ridden round his fields shepherding in desert-island fashion. With the Cottesmore at Wild's Lodge at twelve he was in no hurry, but scanned the clouds and the dull sky cheerfully, as he inspected his flocks and herds in a ragged old coat that smelt of tar. On the right of him hung the Pastures, on his left, across a bit of fine jumping country, where the winter afternoons saw many a frantic scurry backwards and forwards, a darker patch. And the same road that passed his house twisted and turned until it reached that of Burkinshaw. Standing in his stirrups Gay could see it, not half the distance across the fields, sunk in a hollow, its chimneys rising to fix a man's wandering gaze. He came in and dressed himself with remarkable care. "What are you riding?" said Tokenhouse. Gay pulled off his tie and began to fold another carefully round his neck. It would not lie smooth. "Fanny," he said. "The one I'm qualifying for Burton. It rained last night; the bone is out of the ground. And then the brown I brought back from Ireland." "Staying out all day?" said Tokenhouse. "I suppose so," said Gay, and then glanced up, still worrying with his clothes. ..".