When I went to the stud I was first mated with Lord Zetland’s Morocco, to whom I bred a fine weight-carrying hunter named Manacles, who distinguished himself during a good many seasons with Lord Zetland’s hounds in carrying a cousin of my master’s, whose riding weight was nearly sixteen stone and who is a hard rider. Manacles won one year, with this weight, the Zetland Point-to-Point, and, with his owner’s brother up, the Cleveland Point-to-Point in 1894. Although I have been mated with better-bred and much better-looking sires, I do not think I have bred another quite as good in the field. It is curious how uneven as a rule are the foals of hunter mares. Manacles was about 17 hands, and a great, striding, fast, staying horse; but the next foal I dropped was never more than a pony, about 14.3 hands, by Laureate (by Rosicrucian). I then had a very fine daughter, Carina, by Syrian, who went to Mr. Cecil Boyle’s stud, after winning many prizes; but my next foal, by Pursebearer, was another weedy one. My last and youngest, Saffron, is a fine mare and a good hunter, and is in many ways very like what I was in my prime. I am not what is called a certain breeder, and I have during the years when I was not engaged in my family duties done some light work on the farm. I never objected to this, and indeed was all the better for it, nor did I ever feel that there was any indignity in useful service. And now I think I have fairly earned, and can enjoy, the retrospect of a well-spent life. I may not have had a very distinguished career, but blest with an equable temperament and more than ordinary intelligence, loving the chase, and supported by a robust constitution and a courageous heart, I can, without boasting, say that, even with a somewhat exacting master, I never failed to do anything that was asked of me. And I know, when I go hence, as I trust, to even happier hunting-grounds, that those with whom I have spent my life, and who have shared with me the pleasures of the chase, will feel that one has gone with whom are associated the happiest hours and pleasantest memories of the irrevocable past. I have said nothing about the companions of my old age, and it may be thought that I am lonely; but other brood mares, whose best years have been spent in hunting, share the fields with me, and when by chance the hounds come our way, we still take a keen interest in watching the proceedings, and leave off feeding while we discuss the performance of horses and hounds, and our own share in the past, long after the echo of the horn and the distant cry has died away over fence and field. And so I take my leave, asking for my epitaph, if I am considered worthy of it: HERE LIES QUEEN MAB LIFE WELL RUN, REST WELL WON. III HOUNDS [Illustration: FROM A SKETCH BY THE LATE SIR FRANK LOCKWOOD] III