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TUFTS UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES 
 
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 Webster Fanllly Librany of Veterinary fi^ecllcine 
 Gumming^ --—' jf Veterinary Medicine at 
 Tufts Universiiy 
 2GGVVestboro.Road 
 Morth Grafton, MA 01 536 
 
THE 
 LIFE OF A 
 FOXHOUND. 
 

 
THE 
 
 LIFE OF A 
 
 FOXHOUND. 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN MILLS, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN," "THE LIFE OF A 
 RACEHORSE," ETC. 
 
 THE FIFTH EDITION, 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 
 
 JOHN LEECH. 
 
 >liJ3fI]5I]l:iaaE5a: 
 
 LONDON 
 
 PHILIP ALLAN & CO. 
 
 QUALITY COURT, CHANCERY LANE 
 
soz\ 
 
 h2i 
 
 First Edition 
 
 - 
 
 - 
 
 1848 
 
 Second Edition 
 
 - 
 
 - 
 
 1861 
 
 Third Edition 
 
 - 
 
 - 
 
 1892 
 
 Fourth Edition 
 
 - 
 
 - 
 
 1910 
 
 Fifth Edition 
 
 . 
 
 . 
 
 1921 
 
 Printed by Whitehead Bros., Wolverhampton. 
 
TO 
 HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS 
 
 THE PRINCE OF WALES 
 
 K.G., G.M.M.G., G.M.B.E., M.C., &c. 
 
 SIR, 
 
 That fox-hunting is an ancient and honourable 
 pastime all will agree : ancient in that the fox 
 was held to be a beast of venery by our Anglo- 
 Saxon ancestors, honourable because it is a sport 
 that has ever been associated with those excellent 
 qualities of manhood which are the prerogative of 
 our race. That it is a royal pastime is equally 
 plain : for hunting has been regarded, in all ages, 
 as the chief sport of Kings and Princes. Indeed 
 it is due principally to the encouragement and 
 protection accorded to it by the Royal House of 
 England that the noble sport of fox-hunting is in 
 so flourishing a condition to-day. And so it is 
 both fitting and proper, Sir, that this, the fifth 
 edition of a notable contribution to our sporting 
 literature, should be dedicated to you who uphold 
 so admirably the traditions of British sport. 
 
 Your Royal Highness' s 
 
 humble, obedient servant, 
 
 THE EDITOR. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Trimbush told his story — the story of his 
 life — long ago, and a generation of sportsmen 
 having, probably, been succeeded by another 
 since then, the autobiography of that old and 
 sagacious hound is now presented to the notice 
 of those who may have been denied the oppor- 
 tunity of profiting either by his sage advice or 
 experience. 
 
 It will be conceded that, whatever egotism 
 taints his arguments, Trimbush was " a 
 shrewd philosopher, having a why for every 
 wherefore." He spoke of men and foxes as 
 he found them ; and if occasionally somewhat 
 too severe upon the commissions and omissions 
 of the former, he was equally ready, at all 
 times, to show his teeth to the latter. 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 The Meet ----- Frontispiece 
 " Head and Hands will beat Heels " - 66 
 
 A Curious Finish 76 
 
 '* Hold Har-r-r-d ! " - - - . - loo 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER. PAGE. 
 
 *' •■• ••• ••• ••• ••• ••, \ 
 
 '■*• ••• ••• ••• .•• ... ... 16 
 
 in. ... ... ... ... ... ... 39 
 
 **• ••• ••• ••• ... ... ... 51 
 
 •• ••• ••• ••• ••• ... ... 67 
 
 ^*. ••• '•• ••* ... ... ... / 9 
 
 ••• ••• •.. ... ... 91 
 
 ••• ••• ••• ... ... 102 
 
 ■•• ••• ••• ... ... ... Ill 
 
 '•• ••• ••• •". ... ... 121 
 
 XI. .1. ... ... ... ... __ J3g 
 
 All. ... ••* ... ... ... .,, 147 
 
 XIII- ... ... ... ... ... ... 158 
 
 XIV. ... ... ... ... ... ... 172 
 
 XV. ... ... ... ... ... ... 182 
 
 XVI. ... ... ... ... ... ... 193 
 
 VII. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 IX. 
 
 X. 
 
THE 
 
 LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 I HAD the excellent fortune, begins Ring- 
 wood's memoir, to be put at walk at a 
 farm-house, where I enjoyed the treatment 
 observed to all the animals under the care and 
 protection of the farmer and his wife — that 
 of universal kindness. Sweet milk, meal, 
 and broth were my provisions; and I never 
 was without a clean, dry, and warm bed. 
 Basking in the sun, playing with the 
 shepherd's dog, following the men at work, 
 and in a complete state of perfect freedom, 
 my early puppyhood passed. I mention these 
 
 B 
 
2 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 apparently trifling circumstances, because so 
 much depends, as will be shown hereafter, 
 upon the way in which we are brought up. 
 1 was one of a litter of five, consisting of three 
 brothers and two sisters, and each had been 
 placed at a separate walk; so that, until we 
 were sent to the kennel to be drafted, we 
 had not seen each other since the day of 
 separation. 
 
 Sorry as I was to leave my kind benefactors, 
 still I felt no small degree of pride as, on a 
 bright, sunny, spring morning, I was led into 
 a court of the kennel, and met with greater 
 admiration from the huntsmen and whips 
 than any other of the young entry therein 
 assembled, consisting of eleven couples and a 
 half. 
 
 ** Upon my word," said the huntsman, 
 looking at me carefully from head to stern, 
 ** I don't think that I ever saw such a beauty 
 in my life. Such deep quarters, straight 
 legs, round feet, and broad back are not to be 
 met with every day, mind ye." 
 
 ** Look at them shoulders and elbows too," 
 rejoined the first whip. 
 
 "And what a muzzle! " returned the 
 second. 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 3 
 
 " Bless'd if he ain't perfect symmetry! " 
 echoed the feeder, after a long and silent gaze. 
 
 ** 1 do think he is," added the huntsman, 
 emphatically. ** Or if he isn't, / can't see a 
 bad point in him." 
 
 * * That shows what the walk will do, ' ' said 
 the feeder, an old grey-headed man, pointing 
 to four of our company. " Nobody would 
 believe those were of the same litter, didn't 
 they know it." 
 
 But for this I should not have recognised 
 my brothers and sisters, who certainly bore a 
 very different appearance from that given of 
 me by the huntsman. As we appeared 
 strangers to each other, I at once made myself 
 known, and inquired after their health and 
 treatment since we last met. 
 
 " Oh," replied one of my brothers, 
 snappishly, ** I was sent to the village ale- 
 house, where I had to pick up my own living, 
 and got more kicks than good will. I was 
 always in somebody's way, try as I did to 
 keep out of it; and the consequence is, I can't 
 run a mile without feeling as if my back's 
 broken. We don't always die on the day we 
 are killed," continued he. 
 
 "As for me," said my other fraternal 
 
4 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 relative — a mangy, out-of-the-elbow, shy- 
 looking, down-cast hound — *' I was tied up 
 from one month's end to another at a 
 butcher's shop, with nothing to eat but the 
 offal from the slaughter-house. I never, 
 scarcely, was let loose, except to fight with 
 one of the bull-dogs or terriers chained in the 
 yard with me; but as I was always over- 
 matched when I fought, and got well thrashed 
 when I refused, the end was the same in 
 either case. The best part of a hound," 
 continued he, " as the best part of a horse, 
 goes in at the mouth ; and as none, since I was 
 a sucker, has gone into mine, I suppose I must 
 consider myself no better than I should be; 
 and I fear," concluded he, with a sorrowful 
 expression, " not so good." 
 
 " Let me hope that my sisters were more 
 fortunate," said I. 
 
 " We were together in the same village," 
 replied one, " although at different homes. I 
 was at the saddler's and my sister at the 
 miller's, and both shared the common hard- 
 ships of being continually worried by a set of 
 idle boys. Stoned, hallooed at, kettles tied to 
 our tails, and all kinds of tricks were played 
 upon us. Whenever anything eatable was 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 5 
 
 missed or stolen, it was invariably laid to our 
 charge; so that we could not even put our 
 heads into a doorway without having a stick 
 or a broom flung at us. Day after day this 
 was our treatment, and although we did not 
 suffer from a scarcity of food, yet from being 
 obliged to shift for ourselves in getting beds 
 where we could find them, sometimes cold, 
 sometimes wet, and no system being observed 
 in either our meals or lodgings, we were 
 seldom without lameness or ill-health of one 
 kind or other." 
 
 My sister was about giving the further 
 details of their grievances, when the second 
 whip, a fine, young, athletic man, interrupted 
 her narration by observing that " he would 
 draft all the litter but me." 
 
 " No, no," returned the feeder, shaking 
 his head. '' You'll not find the Squire do 
 that : we must keep 'em for their blood." 
 
 " Come," added the huntsman, turning 
 upon his heel, " they're all in now, and to- 
 morrow will show what are to be entered. 
 We've no voice in the matter." 
 
 ** And don't want to have," rejoined the 
 feeder, ' 'with such a master as the Squire is. ' ' 
 
 Soon after my entry I was taken under the 
 
6 TETE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 protection of an old hound called Trimbush, 
 and the favourite one in the pack. He had 
 been hunted six seasons, and, as may be 
 supposed, was awake to every wrinkle. 
 
 " Hounds, like men," said he, one day, as 
 we stretched ourselves together in the shade of 
 a large chestnut-tree overhanging the court, 
 *' should first learn their duties, and then 
 perform them. Now, young-un, I've taken a 
 fancy to you," continued he, giving me a 
 playful flip with the tip of his stern ; ' ' and if 
 you follow my advice you will save yourself 
 many a stinging cut from our Whip's double- 
 thong. He hits terribly hard, I assure ye." 
 
 " Does he? " replied I, believing, in my 
 innocence, that such a good-tempered, laugh- 
 ing fellow would scarcely brush a fly from our 
 hackles. 
 
 " So you'll say,** continued my friend, 
 " when you've tasted it." 
 
 " But I mean to avoid flogging," I 
 rejoined, " by obeying orders.'* 
 
 " Pooh, pooh," returned Trimbush, testily. 
 ** Intentions are good enough; but a fig for 
 orders when the blood's up ! I don't always 
 obey them myself, old as I am. However, as 
 you haven't yet viewed a fox, it's no use my 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 7 
 
 mentioning anything about the field. We 
 shall begin cub-himting in a few weeks, and 
 then you will get a little insight as to what 
 you are to do there. In the meantime I'll cut 
 some notches in your memory regarding 
 kennel discipline, and relate a few 
 peculiarities concerning your companions." 
 
 " Thank you," said I to the friendly offer. 
 
 * ' In the first place I should tell you, ' ' began 
 Trimbush, ** that the best step to take at the 
 outset is to endeavour to become a favourite 
 with those in authority over you. This is 
 easily acquired, by doing that which you are 
 told cheerfully, and without the trouble of 
 compulsion being exercised. For it's one 
 thing to disobey an order when hunting, and 
 quite another in the kennel. We all love our 
 huntsman. Will Sykes; but he is very strict, 
 and never allows a fault to pass without a rate 
 or the thong being applied. When called, 
 walk up to him with your ears thrown back 
 smilingly, and carry your stern high and 
 proudly. Will can't bear a hound to look like 
 a sneak. Don't be quarrelsome at feeding 
 time, or indeed at any other; for although 
 family differences will occasionally arise over 
 the meal and broth, never be among the first to 
 
8 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 cause them. I am far from meaning by this 
 that you are not to maintain your rights ; on 
 the contrary, you, like everything that lives, 
 not only possess them, but are bound, in self- 
 defence, to support them. There is as much 
 danger, if not more, in always giving way to 
 the domineering of tyrants as in acting the 
 tyrant yourself; although," continued Trim- 
 bush, with a growl at the reminiscence, " the 
 results proved the same here not more than 
 three seasons since." 
 
 " How was that? " inquired I. 
 
 " Why," replied he, " in all packs there is 
 a master hound, who lords it over the rest just 
 as he pleases. Now it frequently happens that 
 this master becomes a regular bully, and so 
 worries and torments his companions, that 
 there is no living in comfort with him. We 
 had a governor of this kind three years ago, 
 and what do you think we did ? ' ' 
 
 *' Can't say," rejoined I. 
 
 " Killed and ate him," returned Trimbush, 
 with no mare concern than if speaking of the 
 death of a rabbit. 
 
 " Killed and ate him! " repeated I, 
 horrified. 
 
 " Ay," rejoined he, " marrow, bones, and 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 9 
 
 all, with the exception of his head." * 
 
 * * Dog eat dog ! " I exclaimed, scarcely 
 believing the statement to be true. 
 
 " It's not an every-day occurrence," coolly 
 replied Trimbush; " but what I've told ye is 
 by no means a solitary instance, as you shall 
 learn. There was a shy, broken-spirited 
 puppy entered the same season with me, and 
 whenever any of us began a bit of fun with 
 him, he'd shriek and howl ' pen-an-ink ' just 
 as if he was being murdered. This, of 
 course, led every one to take advantage, and 
 the poor devil never had any peace of mind or 
 body. One day, however, when a few of us 
 had pinned him in a corner of the court, and 
 were baiting him for sport, who should step in 
 but Ned Adams, the second whip. How he 
 paid us off, to be sure ! Not one escaped but 
 with every bone in his body aching fit to 
 split." 
 
 '* But it served all of you right," 
 interrupted I. 
 
 " Perhaps it did," rejoined Trimbush; 
 " but we thought otherwise, and no sooner 
 had Ned turned his back than we commenced 
 
 * This took place some years since in Mr. Conyer's 
 kennel, at Copthall, Essex. 
 
( ( 
 (( 
 
 10 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 making a retaliation upon the cur who had 
 caused us such a drubbing. We had scarcely 
 begun, however, when Ned again made his 
 unwelcome appearance, and flogged us until 
 every stroke from his double-thong seemed to 
 soak right through our bodies. Before the 
 cock gave notice of the coming day," con- 
 tinued Trimbush, significantly, " Tricksy — 
 for that was the name of the hound — was dis- 
 posed of so as to leave no trace behind." 
 Eaten 1 " I ejaculated. 
 We didn't leave," replied my friend 
 deliberately, and dropping his words like peas 
 from his jaws, " even his head.'' 
 
 But why was this done? " inquired I. 
 The simplicity of infancy is truly re- 
 freshing! " observed Trimbush. ** There's 
 an adage, that a dead dog may tell how he was 
 killed," continued he; " but an eaten one 
 never can. Do you comprehend? " 
 
 " Perfectly," responded I. 
 
 *' From what I have said," he resumed, 
 " you must now be aware of the policy of 
 neither being overbearing to your fellows, nor 
 too tame or submissive to them. I am now 
 master here, and this is the rule I both teach 
 and observe." 
 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 11 
 
 " And a very good one too," I remarked; 
 " but don't let me interrupt you. Pray pro- 
 ceed." 
 
 ** You would find out in time," resumed 
 Trimbush, ** but may as well profit by my 
 experience, and learn it at once, that most 
 men who go with us to the covert-side know 
 little about hunting and less about hounds. 
 So long as their patience is not cramped with 
 drawing blanks, and we go the pace with 
 heads up and sterns down, they are satisfied, 
 and take little further interest in us. Not one 
 in fifty can tell even what the points of a 
 hound are; and as for understanding any- 
 thing about our habits and dispositions, they 
 think that we are as much alike as cherries 
 upon the same stalk. So far, however, from 
 that being the case, we differ from each other 
 in every respect as much as man to man 
 engaged in the same pursuit, and frequently 
 inherit the peculiarities of our fathers and 
 mothers, as they do. You see that black-and- 
 tan hound basking in the sun ? ' ' 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " That's Valentine. Now, his father, 
 who was killed from a kick three years ago, 
 always trotted to and from kennel just under 
 
12 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 the huntsman's off stirrup, and Valentine 
 does precisely the same. There's Graceful, a 
 bitch in the next court — she invariably is the 
 first home and the last to covert, and her 
 mother did the like before her." 
 
 *' That appears to be innate laziness," I 
 observed. ^ 
 
 " No," replied Trimbush. " So far from 
 that being the case, there never were better 
 working hounds on earth." 
 
 " Then how do you account for it? " 
 inquired I. 
 
 * * There are many things, ' ' returned Trim- 
 bush, with the air of a philosopher, " as clear 
 to our vision as the sunshine at noon, and yet 
 their causes are hid in impenetrable darkness. 
 I cannot," continued he, " tell why Graceful 
 and Valentine should inherit the eccentrici- 
 ties of their parents, but only see that they do 
 so. 
 
 *' Are these the only two instances coming 
 under your observation? " I asked. 
 
 "By no means," replied my companion. 
 ** I could recite a dozen others of a similar 
 nature, but I fear they might prove weari- 
 some. You see that badger-pied hound 
 amusing himself by snapping at the flies 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 13 
 
 buzzing about him ? Well, he is a nephew of 
 mine, and makes it a rule, as his father did, 
 to carry home whatever part of the varmint 
 that falls to his share, and never eats it, unless 
 there is a great chance of its being dragged 
 away from him, till he gets to the kennel 
 door." 
 
 *' Perhaps he wishes to show everybody on 
 the road that he had a hand in the breaking 
 up," said I. 
 
 " I think vanity has something to do with 
 it, " replied my friend ; " but if so, he inherits 
 the pride from his sire, just as those 
 peculiarities I have named are inborn in 
 others." 
 
 " I suppose, if these habits descend from 
 parent to child," I observed, " that vices are 
 also inheritable." 
 
 '* Decidedly," replied Trimbush, beginning 
 to evince symptoms of drowsiness. " Rioting, 
 skirting, babbling, and all such-like faults, 
 are inheritable, and as much so as the 
 defective points in symmetry." 
 
 " It appears to me somewhat harsh, then," 
 rejoined I, " to punish us for them." 
 
 " That's a matter," added Trimbush, " I 
 must leave to be decided between you and Ned 
 
14 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 Adams;" and then turning upon his side he 
 closed his eyes, and a deep, low snore quickly- 
 proclaimed him to be in the land of shadowy 
 dreams. 
 
 I found kennel life at first very tedious, and 
 soon began to pine for the farm-house, liberty, 
 and a romp with the shaggy old shepherd's 
 dog. I became so home-sick at length, that 
 had the opportunity offered, I should have run 
 away; but when taken for exercise, I was 
 always coupled with a companion, and no 
 chance given of an escape from my thraldom. 
 Notwithstanding the kindness of the feeder, 
 in offering me food twice, and occasionally 
 even three times a day, I got thinner and 
 thinner, and instead of the sleek and bright 
 coat which I had upon leaving my walk, my 
 hackles now began to stare and to look little 
 l^s rough than a badger's skin. Trimbush, 
 too, essayed to relieve me from my load of 
 misery, and recounted many a tale of interest 
 to wean me from gloomy reflections ; but it was 
 all to no purpose. I could not forget the 
 pleasures of home. 
 
 " He'll be right enough in a day or two," 
 said the huntsman to an expression of regret 
 from the feeder at my altered appearance. 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 15 
 
 " Let him go cub-hunting once, and he will 
 not sulk another hour. ' ' 
 
 ** I believe ye," rejoined the feeder. 
 ** There's too good blood in him for that, 
 after he has winded a fox." 
 
 " Well, then," added the huntsman, " to- 
 morrow at daylight we draw Wiverton Grorse ; 
 and if it does not hold a litter, it will be the 
 first time since my servitude — a matter of 
 twenty-five years and more." 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 " But, look! the morn, in russet mantle clad, 
 Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill." 
 
 The dew fell, dropping from leaf to leaf, 
 and hung on the greensward in an endless 
 succession of glistening gems. The mist 
 floated on a light breeze, scarcely strong 
 enough to waft the wet spider's film meshed 
 on sprig, and bough, and hawthorn spray. 
 Mushrooms marked the rings where the elves 
 of the night had held their orgies, and the 
 fairy's light — the glowworm's lamp — still 
 shone faintly on the moss-bank. Like a bride, 
 veiled but not hidden, the young, gay morning 
 broke, with a smile, the slumbering hours. 
 Drooping flowers raised their petals, and 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 17 
 
 folded blossoms opened to her kiss. Wild and 
 happy birds heralded her coming, and all 
 things of the day welcomed her. 
 
 At daybreak we were on our road to 
 Wiverton Gorse, accompanied by Will Sykes, 
 the huntsman, Tom Holt and Ned Adams, the 
 assistant whippers-in. I could not suppress 
 the delight I felt in going to cover; and, 
 instead of the homesick and sullen feeling 
 which I had had for a length of time, I was 
 ready to jump out of my skin with spirits. 
 
 ** Pray, keep quiet ! " said Trimbush, in a 
 reproving tone, as I galloped to his side, and 
 laid hold of one of his ears, by way of an in- 
 vitation to a romp. *' Pray, keep quiet! " 
 repeated he; " you can't be too steady in 
 going to cover. Nurse your strength," he 
 continued, " until it's wanted." 
 
 * * I could race for thirty miles this morning, 
 without a check! " replied I, boastfully. 
 
 "Pooh, pooh!" rejoined Trimbush; 
 ** that's the way with you young-uns — all 
 brag and self-conceit; and when it comes to 
 hard running, where are ye in a brace of 
 shakes? Somewhat in this form," continued 
 he, hanging down his head, with outstretched 
 tongue and drooping stern. 
 
 c 
 
18 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 I laughed heartily at Trimbush's acting a 
 fagged and beaten hound; and, although I 
 had not seen one at the time, I subsequently 
 learned that it was a very faithful representa- 
 tion. 
 
 *' One would think, from that puppy's 
 gambolsome larking, ' ' observed the huntsman, 
 pointing to me, " that he knows what he's 
 going about." 
 
 " Perhaps he do," sagely returned Tom 
 Holt. 
 
 "How the devil should he? " rejoined 
 Will Sykes. *' Isn't this his first day's cub- 
 himting? " 
 
 " Yes," added the first whip. *' But don't 
 you think them dumb animals have a language 
 of their own ? I'm blest if they don't almost 
 talk to us sometimes. ' ' 
 
 "Hal ha! ha 1 " laughed Will Sykes. 
 " You're a pretty kind of a Christian, Tom. 
 I suppose, by-an'-bye, you'll say they sing 
 hymns. ' ' 
 
 ** I don't see why they shouldn't," replied 
 the imperturbable Tom Holt. " At least," 
 continued he, " if they don't, they're a sight 
 more sensible than many of those that do." 
 
 " Come, come," said the huntsman, in a 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 19 
 
 correcting tone; " try back, Tom. We shall 
 have stones fall from the clouds presently, 
 if you go on in that way. ' ' 
 
 '* It wouldn't surprise me if they did," 
 replied the whipper-in, as cool as a cucumber. 
 " When so many folk, both gentle an' simple, 
 are building castles in the air, it's nothing 
 but reasonable that some o' the stones should 
 tumble." 
 
 " Ca-a-pital! " added Will Sykes admir- 
 ingly. ** I like a sharp and ready tongue. 
 But you don't really mean to say, Tom, that 
 you think hounds have a way of speaking to 
 one another ? ' ' 
 
 '* Yes, I do," replied the whipper-in; "and 
 have no doubt of the fact. They have the 
 sense," continued he, *' to understand what 
 we say to them, and a great deal, in my 
 opinion, of what we say of them; and it's 
 quite as natural, if not more so, that they 
 should have a language of their own, as it is 
 for them to comprehend a foreign one." 
 
 ** Your notions are queer ones, Tom," 
 observed the huntsman. ** And you'd have 
 me believe, I suppose, that Ringwood there 
 has been told what he's going to do? " 
 
 ** Nothing more likely," replied Tom Holt. 
 
20 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 We were now on the verge of Wiverton 
 Gorse — an extensive brake of some forty acres 
 of high but not thick furze, except in patches 
 where it had been lately cut. 
 
 " Don't let a hound get away," said the 
 huntsman. " We'll rattle the covers well; 
 but be sure and hold the hounds in." 
 
 At this moment Bluecap and Dauntless 
 made an attempt to sneak away; and, before 
 getting a rate from Ned Adams, found his 
 double thong cracking round their loins. 
 
 " That's for not waiting orders," observed 
 Trimbush. 
 
 ' ' Cover-hoik ! cover-hoik ! ' ' hallooed the 
 huntsman ; ' * Elooin-hoik ! ' ' and into the 
 brake we crashed like a flash of lightning. 
 
 " That's the dash of the old blood ! " said 
 the huntsman, as I rushed through the gorse 
 with the ambitious eagerness to find. ** I'd 
 bet a season's capping," continued he, " that 
 he takes as kindly to work as a baby does to 
 sucking." 
 
 " You'd better keep by me," observed 
 Trimbush, " and learn a little of your 
 business, instead of tearing your eyes out in 
 that blundering, stupid manner. One would 
 think, if you were not a greenhorn of a 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 21 
 
 puppy, that a dying fox stood before ye, 
 instead of not having so much as found one. ' ' 
 
 But I was in no humour to be dictated to; 
 and in spite of lacerating the corners of my 
 eyes, ears and stern, I flew right and left 
 through the furze, in the hope of being the 
 first to challenge. In pressing through a 
 thick patch, I scented that which I instantly 
 concluded must be a fox; and, immediately 
 afterwards catching a glimpse of something 
 spring across a ride, I threw up my head, 
 and made the cover echo as I dashed along the 
 line. I was much surprised, however, that 
 none of the old hounds joined me, and that, 
 with the exception of three or four of the 
 same age as myself, who merely gave tongue 
 because I did, no response or cheer was given 
 to my efforts. 
 
 In a few seconds we found ourselves 
 through the brake at the farthest corner up 
 wind, and in close proximity to the dreaded 
 presence of Ned Adams. 
 
 " War hare, puppy! " hallooed he, riding 
 at me, and cracking his heavy whip. *' War 
 hare ! war hare ! Hark back ! hark back ! ' ' 
 
 Learning that I had committed an error, I 
 was not slow to obey the caution, by getting 
 
22 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 out of the reach of the thong; although, as I 
 afterwards discovered, there was no fear of 
 being punished for a fault until it had been 
 repeated. Scarcely had I again turned into 
 the brake, when my friend Trimbush gave a 
 deep-toned note, announcing that a fox was 
 afoot. 
 
 * ' Hoik to Trimbush ! ' ' hallooed the hunts- 
 man — "Hoik to Trimbush! " and, as a 
 bunch of hounds took up the cry, he added, 
 •' Hoik together, hoik! " 
 
 Galloping on the line where three or four 
 couple of the knowing ones were feathering 
 their sterns and ringing their music, I for 
 the first time winded a fox. Anxious to 
 distinguish myself, I at once began making 
 more din about it than all the old hounds put 
 together. 
 
 " Don't jingle your tongue as if you were 
 currant-jelly hunting," said Trimbush, con- 
 temptuously, as I joined his side. ** A 
 workman," continued he, '* never wastes his 
 breath with too much whistling." 
 
 Feeling that there was truth in his chiding, 
 I changed my tone, and gave tongue only 
 when my friend did. 
 
 That's right," remarked Trimbush, 
 
 (i 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 23 
 
 flattered at my observing his dictate : ' ' now 
 you sound like business. ' ' 
 
 "Have at him! " hallooed Will Sykes. 
 " Yoo-oo-it, hoik! " 
 
 Hounds were now hunting in every 
 direction of the cover; and it was evident 
 that several foxes were before them. 
 
 ** The vixen and the whole litter are 
 a-foot ! " I overheard the first whip say. 
 
 ** Did you view her ?" inquired Will Sykes. 
 
 ** Yes! " was the reply; " and she's gone 
 away." 
 
 " Then there's a dog-fox behind," rejoined 
 the huntsman. 
 
 " I thought so," quietly observed Trim- 
 bush, stooping his muzzle to the ground, and 
 drawing, with infinite gratification to his 
 olfactory nerves. ** I thought so," repeated 
 he: "a vixen, except she's barren, never 
 carries such a scent as that. " 
 
 " You know the difference, then? " 
 returned I. 
 
 ** Ay," rejoined Trimbush; " as well as if 
 I had helped to break her up. And so will 
 you in a couple of seasons. * * 
 
 " But how? " asked I. 
 By experience," replied my companion; 
 
 {( 
 
24 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 ' ' and from the natural aversion most animals 
 have to destroy anything with or about to 
 have young. But come, ' ' he continued, * * this 
 is no time for talking, although we shall be 
 stopped from getting away if they can get 
 to our heads in time. However, keep close 
 to me, and I'll try to get a bat by ourselves 
 in spite of 'em." 
 
 " Who- whoop, " hallooed the huntsman. 
 
 " They've chopped a cub," said Trimbush. 
 " Now's our time, if Ned Adams doesn't 
 head him back." 
 
 A succession of loud cracks from a whip 
 followed; but no halloo was given. 
 
 " He's gone away," remarked Trimbush, 
 with glee; " and we'll be on good terms with 
 him. Stick to me." 
 
 Keeping close to my companion's stern, I 
 ran stride and stride with him through the 
 brake until we came to a corner of the cover 
 where the fox we were hunting broke away. 
 
 ' ' Now then, ' ' said Trimbush cheerily ; " up 
 with your head and down with your stern. 
 Come along, the scent's a burning one." 
 
 The instant that Trimbush was free of the 
 cover, he laid himself upon the line, and raced 
 like a greyhound; I following in his wake. 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 25 
 
 Hearing the heavy stride of a horse in our 
 rear, I turned my head to see who was 
 following. 
 
 ' ' Take no notice, ' ' said the old hound : 
 " If Ned gets to our heads — and he'll prick 
 blood for it, I'll be sworn — the sport's all 
 over with us. " 
 
 " What the deuce does he want to stop us 
 for? " inquired I. 
 
 "Pooh," rejoined Trimbush. "Rattle on." 
 
 The second whip came spurring on with the 
 evident desire of reaching us; but the faster 
 he came, the faster we flew. 
 
 "Ha, ha! " laughed Trimbush; " we'U 
 give ye a sob for it." 
 
 Along two open grass fields we led the 
 whipper-in; and then, for more than a mile, 
 up a long, narrow lane, flanked by two high 
 banks. 
 
 " I haven't carried a bit of scent since we 
 left the turf," observed I. 
 
 " Nor I either," replied my companion, 
 
 " Then what's the use of flashing on in this 
 way? " I asked. 
 
 " You've no cunning in ye yet," replied 
 Trimbush, " or you wouldn't ask such a 
 simple question. However, so much the better. 
 
26 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 Craft in the young is unwholesome ; while, if 
 the old don't possess some, they have lived 
 too long unprofitably. Now, we have no time 
 to stop, and if we had we could do nothing 
 with the scent on this hard, dry road : but 
 having found our fox up wind, and as he 
 turned down upon breaking cover, I know 
 that he will not turn again. We have, there- 
 fore, but to make our own cast good one way ; 
 and then, in the event of not being able to hit 
 it off, to try the other to be certain of getting 
 on the line — unless, indeed, he should chance 
 to head short back, which not one fox out of a 
 hundred will do, unless it is to die." 
 
 * * But we shall have no chance of making a 
 cast," said I, " with Ned at our sterns." 
 
 " I know the point he's making for," 
 returned my friend ; * * and if we once get clear 
 of this everlasting lane on to the scrubs, I'll 
 forgive Ned if he stops us this time. I do 
 like," continued he, "a run o' this kind. 
 There's a spice about anything stolen." 
 
 Upon coming to a sudden turn in the road, 
 Trimbush all but stood still at seeing a flock of 
 sheep in our way; who, upon our nearing 
 them, began scampering before us, and 
 became wedged together like one solid body. 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 27 
 
 " The devil! " exclaimed my companion, 
 making an ineffectual effort to reach the edge 
 of the steep bank, and reeling almost over in 
 the attempt. ** No matter," continued he, 
 as springing upon his feet, and rushing 
 forwards, he galloped along the backs of the 
 scared flock; and, following his example, we 
 cleared the impediment, and found ourselves 
 on the right side of a great obstacle to our 
 pursuer, Ned Adams. 
 
 ** Now we're all right," said Trimbush, 
 exultingly ; * ' and we shall have it to ourselves 
 m spite of 'em." 
 
 The long twisting and twining lane led on 
 to an open heath or sheep-walk, covered here 
 and there with patches of broom, furze, and 
 dwarf blackberry bushes. 
 
 ** We'll first try down wind to the right," 
 said Trimbush; ** for although Will Sykes 
 very often takes us just the other way, so as 
 to make sure the varmint hasn't given us the 
 artful dodge by slipping back on his foil, it's 
 a bad cast except with a beaten fox, and 
 generally widens the distance between us and 
 him. Always," continued the old hound, 
 btooping his muzzle to the ground as he 
 trotted cautiously along, " try the way first 
 
28 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 you think he's gone; and, having made that 
 good, it's quite time enough to take the 
 other." 
 
 On coming to some sloping, moist ground, 
 Trimbush stopf>ed, and, feathering for a 
 moment, threw up his head and made the air 
 ring with melody as he hit off the scent again. 
 
 " We are all right," said he, exultingly. 
 " We'll either kill or burst him to earth." 
 
 I could now wind the varmint with my 
 head stretched in the air ; and it was as easy 
 hunting as a bagman sprinkled with aniseed. 
 
 " There's nothing like break-o'-day hunt- 
 ing, ' ' observed my companion : * * the ground 
 is cool and unstained ; and there are no people 
 about. Those terrible enemies to our sport, 
 shepherd's dogs, too, are not often in the way; 
 and the hundred-and-one difficulties to be 
 picked through at noon removed." 
 
 " But we are not thrown off generally at 
 this hour, are we? " inquired I. 
 
 *' Never," replied my friend, ** except at 
 this season. In times gone by," continued 
 he, ** as I have heard tell, the meet used to be 
 before cock-crow ; and often hounds would be 
 waiting at the cover-side for daylight. But 
 fox-hunting, like most other things, has 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 29 
 
 undergone a great change; and instead of 
 the old slow-and-sure system of occupying 
 minutes to find and hours to kill, we are now, 
 taking the season through, hours finding, and 
 minutes killing. " 
 
 *' Which afi'orded most sport, do you 
 think? " inquired I. 
 
 " It's difficult to say," returned Trim- 
 bush. " Unless we go the pace, men now 
 consider that there is no sport whatever ; but 
 some years since, the merits of a good hunting 
 run had nothing to do with the time in which 
 it was done, like a horse-race. With a cold 
 scent, stained ground, and an unruly field — 
 heading the fox, riding over us, and hallooing 
 at everything from a cow's tail to a jackdaw 
 — ^we frequently pick through, and even 
 hold it on with extraordinary keenness; but 
 seldom, indeed, do we get any credit for our 
 pains. If, however, the scent is breast high 
 — as it is this morning, or I couldn't talk to 
 you — and we fly along without a check, for 
 fifteen or twenty minutes, with blood for the 
 finish, then there is no end to the praise, and 
 we receive nothing but commendation and 
 renown. Not that / am an advocate for slow 
 hunting : — for the enjoyment of sport, there 
 
30 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 must be a dash, spirit, and fire ; and in creep- 
 ing along at snail's speed there can be neither 
 one nor the other. But what I wish our 
 admirers and critics to understand is, that a 
 fast run by no means shows our qualities, but 
 a slow one may do so; and often that both 
 our praise and our censure are equally 
 unmerited." 
 
 " Still, " said I, beginning to pant for wind 
 as we rattled up a steep hill, with the scent 
 improving, if possible, at every stride, '* as 
 the old exploded system wanted that dash and 
 spirit which, you say, are indispensable for 
 first-rate sport, there can be no doubt of the 
 present one being the most desirable." 
 
 " On the whole I think so," rejoined my 
 companion ; * * but that may be, " he continued, 
 ' ' from not being practically acquainted with 
 any other. At the same time, ' honour to 
 those to whom honour is due ;' and my belief is 
 that our ancestors, the line hunters, hunted 
 their fox as well, if not better, than we who 
 now race him down." 
 
 " Your judgment's an impartial one," 
 returned I. 
 
 " Good or bad, better or worse," resumed 
 Trimbush, " it's no use arguing about the 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 31 
 
 matter : 'tis the pace now that's wanted, and 
 will be had. If we can't hunt, we must race; 
 and the moment we're at fault you'll hear a 
 dozen tongues holloa : — ' Lift 'em hard. Will. 
 That's your time o' day. Chink-wink 'em 
 along!'" 
 
 " There's no time given, then ? " said I. 
 
 ** Time !" repeated Trimbush with a sneer. 
 " I'll just give ye an instance of what may be 
 deemed a fair sample of the patience of 
 sportsmen of the age we live in. One day last 
 season we had been running a merry bat, for 
 about twenty minutes, as hard as we could 
 split, and leading the field over enough 
 yawners to satisfy the greatest glutton or 
 steeple-chase rider that ever crammed at a 
 rasper. The fox was dying, and, heading 
 short on his foil up wind, brought us to a 
 momentary check. * Hold hard, gentlemen ! ' 
 hallooed Will Sykes; 'pray hold hard! ' 
 * Consume me ! ' exclaimed one who had been 
 jamming his horse close to our sterns; * what 
 sport one might have, if it wasn't for these 
 d d hounds! ' " 
 
 ** A pretty kind of a foxhunter, truly ! " I 
 remarked. 
 
 ** A faithful description of the majority, I 
 
32 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 can assure ye, " replied my companion. ' ' But 
 I must not lose any more breath in talking to 
 you, ' ' continued he ; " I may feel the want of 
 it." 
 
 I had already done so, but was too proud 
 to let the symptoms be visible in any flagging 
 on my part. Desirous as I was, however, to 
 maintain the pace we had been going for some 
 minutes, and over part of an enclosed country 
 with strong fences, I began to feel my 
 strength failing, and the absurdity of my 
 boast of endurance becoming manifested. I 
 now, in spite of every exertion, dropped in 
 the rear; and although Trimbush cheered me 
 to hold on, I could not but think there was a 
 chuckle of triumph in his often-repeated 
 query, "Why don't you come along? 
 Recollect what you said about thirty miles 
 without a check." And then, as if to mock 
 me, the old hound increased his speed, and, 
 upon reaching a wide and level common, ran 
 completely out of view, leaving me alone in 
 my glory. 
 
 For a short time I endeavoured to struggle 
 forwards, but quickly losing the line, and be- 
 coming bewildered and giddy from fatigue, I 
 soon staggered to a stand-still. Ignorant of 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 33 
 
 my way home, and not knowing what to do 
 better, I gave tongue for assistance, and was 
 heartily glad to have my cry responded to by 
 the loud barking of a shepherd's dog, whom 
 I perceived with his master, in a valley at the 
 foot of the hill on which I stood. In a few 
 seconds he came trotting up to me, and mutual 
 delight was experienced in finding that we 
 were familiar acquaintances, and had had 
 many a game of fun together when I was at 
 walk at the home of my puppyhood, the 
 hospitable farm-house. 
 
 ** What, Ringwood, lad! " exclaimed the 
 shepherd upon approaching me, and patting 
 my sides, " is it you? Zounds, but it is! " 
 continued he. "I'd know thee anywhere, 
 skeleton though ye be." 
 
 For that night I was housed in my old 
 home, and the following day again conducted 
 to the kennel. 
 
 ** I wouldn't have lost him for the whole 
 entry, ' ' said Will Sykes, receiving me with a 
 warm welcome. " I can't think," continued 
 he, turning to the second whip, who, I 
 thought, regarded me with rather a savage 
 expression, " how you let 'em get away." 
 
 " I've told ye twenty times already," 
 
 D 
 
34 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 replied Ned Adams, in a tone and manner 
 portraying his humour, " that the devil 
 himself couldn't get to their heads. I did my 
 best, and, like many o' my betters, was 
 beaten." 
 
 ** Well, well! " rejoined the huntsman 
 with glee, " it's the first time that I ever 
 heard of a whipper-in not being able to stop 
 a puppy, cub-hunting. Ha, ha, ha." 
 
 ** It was Trimbush, and not him," 
 returned the irate Ned. 
 
 '* Oh ! " added Will Sykes, ** It was Trim- 
 bush, eh? It wasn't worth while then, I 
 suppose, to get to the head of one without the 
 other, and yet, if I am told rightly, it would 
 have been a difficult job to have separated 
 them." 
 
 The second whip was evidently chafed at 
 this bantering, and turned away with a 
 flushed cheek, and a tongue muttering any- 
 thing but his prayers. 
 
 Upon entering the kennel again, all my 
 companions came round me, and each, in 
 turn, licked my torn ears and eyes, and were 
 as kind and friendly as if I had been a 
 brother to each. 
 
 I am glad to see you back again," 
 
 ( ( 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 35 
 
 observed Trimbush, raising himself from a 
 corner of the court, and stretching his limbs. 
 ** I began to think some danger had befallen 
 ye." 
 
 * * No thanks to you for having escaped it, * ' 
 replied I, somewhat sharply. 
 
 ** Oh !" rejoined the old hound, carelessly : 
 " in a run it's every hound for himself, and 
 a kick for the hindmost. There's no 
 consideration then." 
 
 " What did you do with the varmint? " 
 inquired I, anxious to learn the result of our 
 hunt. 
 
 ' * Within five minutes of tailing you off, ' ' 
 replied he, "I ran him from scent to view; 
 and if he had not gone to ground, I'd have 
 broken him up without any sharers in the 
 feast. As it was," he continued, " he was so 
 hot and beaten that he couldn't lie more than 
 a few inches from the mouth of the earth ; and 
 there we remained, with our red rags out, 
 panting and grinning at each other for 
 hours. Now and then I had a scratching dig 
 "for him; but finding that I could make no 
 progress for the roots, left at last reluctantly, 
 and pointed for home, where I arrived when 
 the stars were twinkling." 
 
36 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 " Did you see Ned Adams upon your 
 return? " I inquired. 
 
 "No," replied Trimbush. " Mark, the 
 feeder, was waiting for me, knowing that I 
 should be back in the course of the night, let 
 the distance be ever so great; and the good 
 old fellow examined my feet and gave me a 
 good supper, without the least show of bad 
 temper for having kept him from bed." 
 
 '* The second whip would not have treated 
 ye so," I observed. 
 
 " Perhaps not," returned he. ** You 
 mustn't suppose, however, that Ned bears any 
 malice. He might feel vexed and chafed at 
 not being able to obey orders, but he always 
 lets bygones he bygones." 
 
 In the course of discussion relative to the 
 events of our stolen run, and during which 
 the remainder of our companions formed a 
 willing auditory, I asked Trimbush how he 
 discovered the difference between the scent of 
 a dog fox and that of a vixen. 
 
 ** In the first place," responded he, " it is 
 never so strong; and when she has either laid 
 down her cubs, is about to do so, or has not 
 left off suckling, there is a peculiar odour 
 with her which cannot be mistaken. Now, 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 37 
 
 most animals, ' ' continued he, * * as I observed 
 yesterday, have an aversion to kill those in 
 any of the situations just described; but I 
 should have added, when the fur'pose is to 
 eat them. For instance, a stoat v^ill not 
 touch a rabbit when about to litter; but a 
 terrier would kill her in a moment. This is 
 the reason that so few birds are killed whose 
 nests are on the ground. The weazel avoids 
 the partridge and lark whilst setting, and the 
 fox passes the pheasant." 
 
 " What! " exclaimed I. " Won't a fox 
 snap a pheasant from her nest ? ' * 
 
 " Gamekeepers," resumed Trimbush, 
 " would tell you, * Always when an oppor- 
 tunity presents itself;' but I know better. A 
 vixen, with a large litter, and food scanty, 
 will do so now and then, I don't deny; but 
 what does she get ? Skin, bone, and feathers 
 — a most unsavoury morsel, for which the cubs 
 will scarcely care to fight. The mother knows 
 this well enough, and, unless driven to 
 extremities, never takes any kind of bird 
 from her nest." 
 
 * ' The farmer's wife tells a different story, ' ' 
 I observed. 
 
 ** The farmer's wife, like the gamekeeper, 
 
38 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 is a sworn enemy to foxes," returned Trim- 
 bush, ** and with equally groundless cause. 
 If a single head of poultry is missed, the 
 robbery is always ascribed to a fox, and, how- 
 ever devoid of foundation, never forgotten. 
 The old trot dates her subsequent life from 
 the event, and begins her tale with, ' About 
 six months after the fox took my duck, ' ' and 
 so keeps the matter fresh and vivid to the end 
 of her days. ' ' 
 
 ** One would think you were a preserver 
 instead of a killer of foxes," said I. 
 
 ** Ay," rejoined the speaker; "if it was 
 not for preserving, we should have no oppor- 
 tunities of killing." 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 " We will, fair queen, up to the mountain's top, 
 And mark the musical confusion 
 Of hounds, and echo in conjunction." 
 
 Will Sykes was designed by nature for a 
 huntsman. With a short stature and wiry 
 frame, he possessed activity, indomitable 
 courage, patience, and judgment. His voice, 
 too, seemed to come from his heart, as he 
 cheered with lusty lungs; and his strong grey 
 eyes encompassed a whole parish, when he 
 threw them forward for a view. Grood 
 humour sat upon his lip, and there was a 
 great secret in his possession, of being capable 
 of pleasing everybody without any apparent 
 effort. Proud — perhaps a little vain — was 
 our Will of his exterior ; but then there might 
 be sufficient cause; for although his short- 
 
40 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 cropped hair was grizzled and frosted by 
 time, and a few wrinkles — albeit the joint 
 effects of laughter and age — -were stamped on 
 his ruddy cheeks, few could boast of a larger 
 circle of admirers. Will could never pass 
 through a village, in pink and boots, but 
 old women and young — but more especially 
 the young— and mothers and maids flocked 
 to their cottage doors and windows to 
 exchange nods and friendly greetings with 
 him. Ladies, too, of the first degree 
 acknowledged his polite lift of the cap with 
 friendly smiles, and, at convenient seasons, 
 inquired after the health of Mrs. Sykes, and 
 took quite an interest in sundry other of his 
 domesticities and household economy. And 
 was the huntsman's better half — the plump, 
 the prim, the comely Mrs. Sykes-— jealous of 
 these attentions? By no means. That 
 excellent and discriminating person con- 
 sidered that the favour in which Will was 
 held by the gentle and simple might be 
 ascribed to her tactics and general measures 
 of expediency ; and popularity, she had cogent 
 reasons for supposing, had greatly to do with 
 the liberal capping so invariably bestowed 
 upon the huntsman, whenever his right and 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 41 
 
 title to the gratuity accrued. Worthy indeed 
 is the care to be recorded with which the 
 worthy dame bleached and starched the 
 cravat, folded and tied without a crease, 
 around Will's neck. The white cords, too, 
 stained as they have been in many a run, with 
 the mud flying in showers over them, are 
 spotless, and without a speck to note the wear 
 and tear of bygone seasons. His tops also 
 bore evidence of a division of Mrs. Sykes's 
 accomplishments. Scratched and rubbed, it is 
 true, they were; but no erasible mark was 
 permitted to remain. His spurs, too, glittered 
 again; and in short, *' no baron or squire, or 
 knight of the shire," had greater attention 
 paid to his toilet than had our huntsman. 
 
 " Personal appearance," observed Mrs. 
 Sykes to Will, one evening, sitting in a cozy 
 corner of his parlour, in a dreamy, winking, 
 blinking state, lulled by the influence of a 
 blazing yule log — " personal appearance," 
 repeated she, somewhat louder, ' ' is necessary 
 for personal respect ; and unless we look as if 
 we respected ourselves, it's unreasonable to 
 suppose that other people will go for to 
 respect us. We must best know," continued 
 she, ** our own in'ards; and if we show, by 
 
42 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 our out'ards, that they're all gammon and 
 bacon, rest assured they won't pass as the 
 best of chitlins." 
 
 And was it for this, then — this worldly 
 object — that Mrs. Sykes might be seen on 
 every succeeding Sunday, volume in hand, 
 walking with stately and measured tread 
 along the path leading to the gray -mossed and 
 ivy-twined church ? Was it for this that the 
 ribbed silk dress and most treasured bonnet 
 were donned on the seventh day, when the 
 likelihood was great of many eyes beholding 
 them ? Was it for this that, from the bright 
 buckle in her shoe to the topmost ribbon stuck 
 jauntily to flutter in the breeze, Mrs. Sykes 
 evinced such elaborate taste and dainty care ? 
 Mrs. Sykes, like countless hosts of her betters, 
 would have been justly indignant had such 
 prying interrogatories been put to her for 
 solution, however blandly they might have 
 been effected ; and as there is no confession on 
 her part, and no justifiable ground for specu- 
 lation in the replies, they must remain 
 unanswered to the end of time. 
 
 Tom Holt, the first whipper-in, and conse- 
 quently second in command, was a very 
 different genus homo to our huntsman. As 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 43 
 
 may already have been learned from his 
 expressed opinions and sentiments, he 
 possessed strange quirks and notions, and, to 
 use his own graphic description of his 
 imaginary pedigree, might have been " a 
 cross between a bull-dog and a flat iron." 
 Much nice sophism might be used to support 
 the poetical origin of Tom Holt; but if 
 volumes were written to define his allegory 
 more clearly, the end could not be more satis- 
 factorily arrived at than by briefly saying, 
 " it can far more easily be conceived than 
 described." Tom was a reflective man; he 
 could not see an infant in its mother's arms 
 without the endeavour to picture to his vivid 
 imagination how it would look when blear- 
 eyed with age. A piece of thistle-down, whirl- 
 ing here and there, now catching in a bramble, 
 and then skimming along in its varied, 
 uncertain course, would make him think of 
 ** cause and effect " for an hour. A dew- 
 drop, a feather in the air, a film of gossamer, 
 often set Tom Holt '* a-thinking " for the 
 livelong day. He was a dreamer, and had 
 more strange fantasies, with eyes wide and 
 staring open, than a thousand such will-o'-the 
 wisps fanned by the fairies' midwife. Queen 
 
44 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 Mab. And yet Tom Holt, although his face 
 was pale and thin, and his dark hazel eyes 
 always bore a serious look, enjoyed right 
 heartily his duties, and all thereunto pertain- 
 ing. He studied the attributes and affections 
 of the animals with which he had to deal, and 
 took little less delight in the cunning and 
 subtle tricks of the crafty fox than he did in 
 the sagacity of his darling hounds hunting 
 him. Like many enthusiasts, however, Tom 
 went very strange lengths upon occasions ; and 
 it was generally reported in a wide ring in 
 the country, that he asserted, when " much 
 wrought," at the Duck and Gridiron, upon a 
 memorable occasion, ** that a spider might 
 teach a weaver more in one hour, than he 
 could learn in a seven years' apprenticeship." 
 Be this as it may, there is no doubt whatever 
 that, upon Tom's recovering consciousness 
 from a stunning fall, causing the blood to 
 flow from his nose profusely, he remarked, 
 brushing a few of the sanguinary drops from 
 the tip of it, that, " he did not see why they 
 shouldn't be blue instead of red." This is an 
 ascertained and acknowledged fact, and, 
 without further detail of his oddities and 
 eccentricities, Tom Holt must be left, like the 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 45 
 
 cork against the tide, to work his own way. 
 
 It appears indispensable — stale as the 
 necessity may prove — to introduce the persons 
 spoken of previously to relating the scenes and 
 incidents in which they may assist. The 
 second whip, Ned Adams, therefore, must not 
 be permitted to escape notice altogether, like 
 one of immaterial consequence and account; 
 and although slight will be the sketch of his 
 virtues, vices, and tendencies, still, to render 
 ihat which is justly due is but to yield the 
 very bare bones of common honesty. As with 
 the greater number of second whippers-in, 
 Ned was a connexion of the huntsman, and 
 had the right — needlessly, be it said, on the 
 maternal side — to call him " uncle." Ned's 
 uncle embraced divers opportune occasions to 
 impress upon his nephew's mind the onerous 
 duty and essential service which may be 
 performed by a whipper-in if he will only 
 keef in his 'place. " But," observed the 
 huntsman, " most of you hot-blooded young 
 'uns are so eager to get for'ard, that ye forget 
 the first principles of what you ought to do, 
 and instead of keeping behind, to bring on the 
 tail hounds, hang me if you don't jam to the 
 sterns of the leading ones." 
 
46 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 " It's more than mortal patience can 
 endure, " replied Ned, by way of justification, 
 " to stick in the rear on some occasions." 
 
 " But your duty, Ned," seriously rejoined 
 WiU Sykes, " won't bear excuse. It's as 
 much your place to be behind hounds as it is 
 mine to be with them. In my judgment," 
 continued he, " there are but these couple of 
 proper causes for a whip to be seen for'ard : 
 — when hounds are to be stopped, and when 
 ordered to clap to an open earth or hold a 
 fox in covert, if not on such terms that we 
 can run him." 
 
 " But you seldom give me the chance of 
 doing the last, ' ' returned his nephew. 
 
 "And the less the better," added Will 
 Sykes. '* It's too much like mobbing a fox 
 to please me; but still there are occasions, as 
 in lifting hounds, to justify us in so doing. If 
 the scent be cold and the fox a long way 
 ahead, so that hounds can't hunt, we must, 
 in order to have any chance, get them nearer 
 to him, and then it is that a whip may get 
 for'ard to the point and head him in." 
 
 *' But this only applies to a fresh fox, I 
 suppose? " said Ned Adams. 
 
 "To be sure," responded his uncle. 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 47 
 
 " unless, indeed, he's a dying one : for then, 
 as he can show no more sport, the sooner 
 he is killed the better. I'm one of the 
 last men living," continued the huntsman, 
 emphatically, " to kill a fox by either lifting 
 hounds or any other means, except by a fair 
 find — a fair rattle from scent to view, and 
 pulling him down when he can't run any 
 farther. But it isn't every day that we can 
 have such cream of sport ; and for any one to 
 say that it's unjustifiable to lift or assist 
 hounds to run when they can't hunt, or that 
 we should never hold a fox in covert, is to 
 acknowledge himself to be too tame a hand 
 for a killer of foxes." 
 
 " Nobody will accuse you of being that," 
 rejoined his nephew, laughing, ** if they 
 count the noses on the kennel-door at the end 
 of each season." 
 
 " I hope not," returned the huntsman, 
 seriously. " I hope," continued he, '' that 
 when Will Sykes's tally comes to be reckoned 
 up and squared, those noses will go in the 
 scales with his morals, and make' em kick the 
 beam." 
 
 It has been said that Will Sykes possessed a 
 wide circle of admirers; and therefore to be 
 
48 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 quite silent upon the matter respecting his 
 nephew, would be an act approaching 
 injustice; for, although the number was more 
 choice, and^to be strictly correct — comprised 
 no old women whatever, yet there is no 
 question but every pretty, young, and 
 unmarried one within the wide range of 
 Ned's jaunts and wanderings might be fairly 
 registered among them. And no wonder; for 
 Ned was spruce and handsome, and had soft 
 looks, and yet softer words, for those with 
 whom he wished to be in favour. His jest and 
 laugh, too, were free and hearty; and where- 
 ever he went, ** Welcome " awaited him. 
 
 The short sketches of those in immediate 
 authority would still be incomplete if Old 
 Mark the Feeder was allowed to escape obser- 
 vation. Whether he possessed a surname is a 
 subject known only to himself; for nobody 
 ever heard him spoken of, or to, but as *' Old 
 Mark. ' ' From infancy he had been employed 
 in the kennel, and owed his want of promotion 
 to a nervous inability to become a horseman. 
 No exertions on his own part, or those of 
 others, could render him anything like com- 
 petent to ride to hounds; and the result was 
 that, after a long and patient trial to obtain 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 49 
 
 this necessary accomplishment for a whipper- 
 in, Mark was compelled to abandon the 
 design, and to fall back on his former 
 position. After this, no second attempt was 
 made; and so years and years rolled on, and 
 at length discovered the failure of a whipper- 
 in in Old Mark the feeder. As may be 
 supposed from his long experience, no one 
 knew more about us than he did; and the 
 moment his practised eye fell on a hound, he 
 could instantly tell a defective point, let it be 
 never so trifling. Proud and enthusiastic in 
 his calling, the courts and lodging-houses 
 were always clean, dry, and wholesome ; and, 
 late or early, the old man never allowed the 
 most insignificant part of his duties to pass 
 unfinished. The feet of each were carefully 
 examined after returning home, and if foot- 
 sore, washed with bran, warm water, and 
 vinegar. A warm bath, too was also in 
 readiness, and plenty of clean straw to roll 
 m for the purpose of drying. 
 
 Little can be said of Mark's outward man ; 
 for his back was crooked — perchance from 
 continually bending over the troughs and 
 copper — and his legs were lean and long, like 
 a daddy-long-legs; but one of the best 
 
 E 
 
50 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 attributes of human nature sat reflected in 
 his mild, open, honest face; and that was 
 gentle kindness of heart. Oh ! if the world 
 was more thickly populated with " Old 
 Marks," how many hearts and hides would 
 cease to throb with anguish ! 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 '* In the barn the tenant-cock, 
 Close to parti et, perched on high, 
 BrisMy crows (the shepherd's clock), 
 Jocund, that the morning's nigh." 
 
 With a yawn, a stretch, and a shake, Trim- 
 bush completed his toilet one misty morning, 
 just as a neighbouring cock had thrice thrown 
 his chivalrous challenge on the breeze, and 
 invited me, with a crack of his stern across my 
 muzzle, to follow his early example of 
 industry. 
 
 ** Come," said he, ** it's time to be awake 
 and stirring. How do ye fare ? " 
 [ " Hearty and hungry," replied I, re- 
 luctantly arousing myself from a dream of 
 enjoyment. 
 
 "Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Trimbush. 
 " You'll have to wait, then," continued he. 
 
52 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 *' till sunset for a meal, unless you earn a 
 share for yourself." 
 
 ** How so? " inquired I. 
 
 ** This will be the first meet o' the season, 
 and your first day of regular work. Mind," 
 said Trimbush, admonishingly, as he showed 
 a long row of very white and strong teeth, 
 " to let me see that you have profited by my 
 lessons and the experience you've had in cub- 
 hunting, or your jacket may be well shaken 
 when least expected." 
 
 ** You needn't begin to threaten," rejoined 
 I, somewhat indignantly, ** without any 
 cause. A rate's well enough," I continued, 
 " when a fault is committed; but there's no 
 occasion to meet it half-way." 
 
 ** True," returned Trimbush, ** quite 
 true; and your remark only proves that a 
 young head may sometimes correct an old 
 tongue, despite what may be said to the 
 contrary. One of the greatest faults with all 
 whippers-in," resumed he, ** is the rating us 
 in anticipation of our doing wrong ; or, after 
 committing it, before soaking in the double- 
 thong; whereas, they should wait until the 
 cause is given, and then — after blistering us 
 with the flax — proceed to lecture upon the 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 53 
 
 impropriety of the conduct. It's quite 
 remarkable what effect a sound drubbing has 
 upon the memory." 
 
 " I shall not forget the first I received," 
 observed I. 
 
 " But you'll never repeat that riot," 
 significantly returned Trimbush. *' It was a 
 christening not to slip through the memory 
 as if it had no knots tied in it." 
 
 " But then," added I, "in coming across 
 the slot of deer, the scent was so sweet and 
 grateful that I couldn't refrain from carrying 
 a head." 
 
 * ' Well, ' ' said Trimbush, * ' like luxuries of 
 other descriptions, you paid for the enjoy- 
 ment." 
 
 ** And dear as the cost was," replied I, 
 " it's very doubtful whether I might not be 
 inclined to have another flutter at the same 
 feather." 
 
 What ! swallow a hackle of the dog that 
 bit ye? " rejoined my friend. 
 
 '* It's a common case, I've heard, with our 
 betters," returned I. 
 
 " Right again," added my companion. 
 ** Fire puts out fire." 
 
 "I suppose," observed I, ** that you've 
 
54 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 felt, before now, an inclination to repeat an 
 error, convinced as ye may have been of its 
 impropriety." 
 
 " Ah! " exclaimed Trimbush, drav^ing in 
 the breath between his teeth with a hissing 
 sound; " that I have. We are as clannish as 
 Scotsmen, and support each other through 
 thick and thin, in the same mortar-an' -brick 
 fashion. If one of us is a marked and 
 confirmed rebel, he seldom repeats his fault 
 without lots of company to back him. The 
 season before last, a hound was sent here from 
 the north country, and as sulky and ill- 
 tempered a brute as was ever seen in a kennel. 
 We all hated him; and yet, strange as it may 
 appear, upon Ned Adams attempting to drive 
 him from the lodging-house one morning, in 
 consequence of his refusal to come when 
 called, he flew at him, and, fastening upon his 
 shoulder, was instantly joined by half the 
 hounds in the court." 
 
 " I can't understand that," replied I. 
 
 " The cause lies in our blood and bone," 
 rejoined my friend. ** The impulse with us," 
 continued he, " is paramount — to follow the 
 leader however wrong he may be in his 
 example." 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 55 
 
 ** And what was the finish of this attack 
 on Ned Adams? " inquired I. 
 
 " But for his lusty lungs for help," replied 
 Trimbush, ** it might have gone hard with 
 him. However, Will Sykes, Tom Holt, and 
 Old Mark quickly made their appearance, 
 and put an end to the fray with little 
 difficulty. As for our new companion, we 
 never saw him afterwards." 
 
 " He was sent away, I suppose? " 
 remarked I. 
 
 " Yes," returned Trimbush, " to dance in 
 the air with a hempen cord round his 
 throttle." 
 
 " And no wonder, either," added I, '* for 
 such an offence." 
 
 Breaking up a whipper-in is certainly no 
 joke," said my companion. " But there was 
 one picked as clean as ivory once, without any 
 unpleasant interruption to the spread." 
 
 ** Gracious powers ! " ejaculated I, " what 
 do you mean? " 
 
 " Simply what I have said," replied Trim- 
 bush, licking his jaws with a peculiar relish, 
 and coolly adding, ** I had a hand in the 
 supper." 
 
 You? " I exclaimed. 
 
 (( 
 
56 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 ** Listen," returned the old hound, check- 
 ing my impetuosity, ** and you shall hear. I 
 was not bred in this kennel, but came from the 
 west at the end of my first season. It so 
 happened that about the middle of this season, 
 and when all of us were full of fire and 
 devilry, our regular whipper-in died, and his 
 place became filled by a perfect stranger to 
 us. His cottage being within a short distance, 
 he could hear any quarrel or disturbance, and 
 was ready to quell it at a moment's notice. 
 Trifles light as air, I've heard, will frequently 
 cause the most vital consequences; and such 
 was the case that I am alluding to. A ray of 
 the moon, streaming through a chink in the 
 door of our lodging-house, occasioned a 
 hound of the name of Restless to bay it. This 
 broke the sleep of all ; and in a few minutes a 
 regular fight began, each running a-muck and 
 attacking friend and foe with equal want of 
 consideration. In order to quell the row, the 
 whipper-in made his appearance amongst us, 
 as he quitted his bed, undressed ; but scarcely 
 had he lifted the latch of the entrance, when 
 — not recognising his voice or his person — 
 he was seized by the throat; and, before 
 the morning light, there was nothing left 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 57 
 
 "but a cleanly picked skeleton." 
 
 "I'm not surprised at his death, under the 
 circumstances," rejoined I; ** but to eat 
 him! " 
 
 '* In my opinion," added Trimbush, ** that 
 was the most innocent part of the affair." 
 
 " And how," said I, curious to learn 
 further particulars, " how did he taste? " 
 
 " Take my word for it," replied the old 
 hound, in a tone and manner conveying much 
 conviction of the correctness of the assertion, 
 " take my word for it," repeated he, ** that 
 with a little broth, daintier food could not be 
 eaten." 
 
 " Who was the first to discover the 
 remains? " 
 
 " Our feeder," returned he. 
 
 * * And what did he say ? ' ' 
 
 " Well! " added Trimbush, scratching an 
 ear with his off hind foot, as if tickled with 
 the reminiscence which the question created, 
 " I should observe, in the first place," con- 
 tinued he, " that Harry Bolton, our feeder, 
 was one of the coolest fellows that ever boiled 
 a copper of kit, and never known to exhibit 
 the slightest astonishment at anything. 
 Whenever he read an astounding piece of 
 
58 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 news in the County Chronicle — natural 
 phenomenon, accident, or offence, or anything 
 sufficient to cause the generality of his 
 neighbours' hair to stand on end was related 
 to him — his short unchanging observation 
 was, ' Shouldn't wonder ! ' However, thought 
 I, the ice of your surprise will be broken at 
 last." 
 
 ' ' And was it ? " inquired I . 
 
 ** You shall hear," resumed Trimbush. 
 " When Harry came to the kennel, as was his 
 wont just at break o' day, and his eyes fell on 
 the white bones of the unfortunate whipper-in 
 spread upon the ground, he continued puffing 
 a short black pipe, constantly between his 
 lips, for a few seconds in silence, and then 
 taking it from them with a slow deliberate 
 movement, ejaculated, "Shouldn't wonder! 
 D — n me if they an't hashed the whip.' " 
 
 ** And was that all he said? " I asked. 
 
 *' Every word," returned my companion. 
 
 At this moment Will Sykes arrived 
 mounted, accompanied by the two whippers- 
 in; and to his order, Mark threw back the 
 door of the court upon its hinges, and out we 
 rushed with a chorus of merry tongues ringing 
 for our freedom, and the joy that we knew 
 to be in store for us. 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 59 
 
 " Unkennelling hounds," remarked Trim- 
 bush, as we trotted along the road, side by- 
 side, " is one great illustrative fact of the 
 difference between high-bred and low-bred 
 animals. A puddle-blooded mongrel, or one 
 of low caste, licks and fondles only the hand 
 that gives him food; but we, and all possess- 
 ing similar tendencies, love him and those 
 who show and give us sfort. See the 
 difference with which we hail our feeder's 
 appearance, and that of our huntsman. We 
 have affection for both; but there is no com- 
 parison between either the kind or strength of 
 the feeling." 
 
 " We may like Will, too, all the better," 
 I observed, *' on account of his not flogging 
 us." 
 
 ' * A huntsman should never use the thong, ' ' 
 replied my companion. ** It should be his 
 study to be on such terms of friendship and 
 good-will with his pack, that each hound is 
 ready to fly to his voice like a bird to her nest ; 
 and among the varied tempers and disposi- 
 tions which he has to deal with, this is 
 impossible if he unites with his office the 
 duties of whip." 
 
 " I always feel inclined to head just the 
 
60 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 other way when I hear Ned Adams," 
 observed I. 
 
 " To be sure/' returned Trimbush. " The 
 thrashed hound fears the whip; and getting 
 away to his cry of ' for'ard * is as essential as 
 obeying the huntsman's horn; but the feelings 
 for the two are far from being akin." 
 
 We now turned a sharp angle in the lane, 
 down which we were gently trotting : and on 
 a large open piece of waste ground — the 
 coarse grass, patches of thistles and rushes, 
 being cropped by a few donkeys and a flock 
 of desolate-looking geese — ^my eyes first saw 
 the assembled members of " our hunt." 
 
 Deny it who will — it is a heart-stirring, 
 gladsome, inspiring, English sight, to witness 
 a country gentleman and popular master in 
 the field. There are his friends and neigh- 
 bours, his tenants and yeomen, stout and true, 
 his servants and dependents, met together for 
 a noble amusement, and one which unites 
 them in the bond of goodly fellowship. It 
 has been well observed, ** What is a gentle- 
 man without his recreations ? ' ' and, to alter 
 the query slightly, it might be said, " What 
 is a country gentleman unless he be a sports- 
 man f ' ' Like a fish out of water, a bull in a 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 61 
 
 china shop, a bear in a tea-garden, or any- 
 thing else strangely awkward and much out 
 of his element. 
 
 There they were, in showy red and Lincoln 
 green, in leather, cords, and kersey drabs; 
 white tops, brown, and black; hats, caps, and 
 thatch; some mounted and some afoot. From 
 the high-mettled hunter with his shot-silk 
 and glistening coat, to the rough and shaggy 
 tailor's pony; in short, all sizes, shapes, 
 colours, and conditions, might be seen 
 congregated, expectant, and prepared for our 
 arrival. 
 
 "Here they are! " shouted an urchin, 
 perched on the topmost limb of a tree. " Here 
 they are! " repeated he, hallooing to the 
 stretch of his lungs; and then a whooping 
 crew of his fellows took up the cry, making 
 the welkin echo with their din. 
 
 " Your servant, gentlemen," said Will 
 Sykes, touching the peak of his cap; and 
 during a short delay, waiting the arrival of 
 the Squire, he proceeded to point out the 
 young hounds, making me an especial object 
 of notice. 
 
 " What's his pedigwee? " lisped a pale- 
 faced gentleman in spectacles, famous for 
 
< ( 
 
 ( ( 
 
 62 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 riding hard along roads and over nothing but 
 hounds at check. 
 
 " By Osbaldeston's Furrier out of Crafty, 
 sir," replied the huntsman. 
 
 * * By Fuwier out of Quaf ty ! ' ' repeated 
 the interrogator. 
 
 " Yes," rejoined Will; " and I'm much 
 mistaken if he doesn't equal the celebrity of 
 his father." 
 
 * * What do you call him ? ' ' further 
 inquired he of the ghostly countenance. 
 
 Ringwood, sir," returned the huntsman. 
 
 Wingwood, eh? " added the questioner, 
 " That's one of the sort," said Trimbush 
 to me, '* I was mentioning some time ago. 
 He comes out just to show himself and have 
 an excuse for wearing a red coat; but as for 
 taking any interest in either the sport or us, 
 he fears the one and knows nothing of the 
 other. A man, from age, or other causes, may 
 be imable to ride straight and live with us, 
 and yet take as much pleasure in joining the 
 meet, nicking in, and pottering on to the end 
 of a run, as those who are in the first flight 
 from the find to the finish; but I am certain, 
 from what I have seen, that if a man is so 
 naturally timid as to be afraid to ride to 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 63 
 
 hounds, he can never be — in the sense of the 
 word — a foxhunter." 
 
 " And who is he ? " I asked, pointing to a 
 thick-set and jolly-looking man in a green 
 coat, and occupied in the act of taking up the 
 girths of his saddle. 
 
 " A very different description of sports- 
 man," replied Trimbush; " that's farmer 
 Stockdale, a tenant of the Squire's, who has 
 forgotten more about hounds and hunting 
 than the majority of men ever learn. You 
 see," he continued, " that he's making a 
 careful examination of his horse, and the few 
 alterations necessary, whilst there is plenty of 
 time ; as none but the greenhorns leave them to 
 the last moment. I remember a man, upon 
 one occasion, tightening a curb-chain at the 
 moment we unkennelled our fox; and such 
 were the impatient plunges of his horse, that 
 he could not mount him again in time to get 
 away with us, and he never saw an inch of the 
 run — long and gallant as it proved." 
 
 My attention being turned to a young man 
 superbly mounted, and dressed with the most 
 scrupulous care, I inquired of my companion 
 if he was one of the timid school. 
 
 *' No," rejoined Trimbush; " that he is 
 
64 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 not. From the delicate look of his boots, 
 breeches and gloves, one might feel disposed 
 to imagine that he was not in the habit of 
 dirtying them; but so far from that being the 
 case, he is not only the boldest but the best 
 rider in the hunt — for the two do not always 
 go together. It used to be thought," con- 
 tinued he, " by men of the old school, that a 
 white top was the certain mark of a he-haw, 
 know-nothing, gal-drawing, watering-place 
 snob ; but I have no hesitation in saying that 
 the white tops of the present day could show 
 the dark and mahogany ones their heels with- 
 out the slightest difficulty, or more than 
 ordinary exertion . ' ' 
 
 *' You think, then, that men ride bolder 
 and better now? " I remarked. 
 
 " Without a doubt of it," replied Trim- 
 bush. ** The stamp of horse — thorough-bred 
 and up to the mark in condition — the pace we 
 go, and the modern style of racing a fox 
 down, require both bolder and better riding 
 than in the days when they found him at cock- 
 crow and killed him at noon. Not only is 
 courage indispensable to be near the * sinking 
 one,' but hands, head, and heels must be 
 exercised with the best of judgment. T grin, ' ' 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 65 
 
 continued he, " to see a first-flight man, after 
 a fifteen minutes' burst, blown to a stand- 
 still; while farmer Stockdale gives him the 
 go-by with his goose-rumped, short-legged, 
 long-necked nag, just in the wind." 
 
 " And does that often take place? " I 
 inquired. 
 
 ** Very frequently," replied my com- 
 panion. " Head and hands will beat heels 
 all the world over." 
 
 At this moment the Squire came trotting 
 briskly up on his hack ; and as he rode through 
 the throng, hats were lifted and salutations 
 exchanged. Our master, be it remembered, 
 although an old English gentleman, was not a 
 gentleman of the old school. He neither swore 
 the roundest oaths, nor horsewhipped those 
 whom he dared or could afford to pay; he 
 boasted not of the number of bottles it took to 
 make him oblivious of sublunary matters, or 
 laughed only at the practical joke and coarsest 
 jest. His object was not to be the oracle of 
 grooms and stable-boys, or the subject of 
 discussion in the village tap-room. With an 
 affable bearing, he possessed a kind and 
 generous disposition, and a heart more ready 
 to befriend the deserving and destitute than 
 
 F 
 
66 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 to check the imposter and depraved. His 
 house was one wherein hospitality reigned the 
 seasons round; and it mattered not who were 
 the guests, a hearty welcome awaited each and 
 all. In the pursuit, too, of his favourite 
 sport, he never permitted an injury to pass 
 unrecompensed, although careful that no false 
 application should succeed. Not a gate nor a 
 bar was broken, a head of poultry lost 
 suspiciously, or the most trifling damage 
 done, but what, instantly and liberally, 
 amends were made. Sternly discountenanc- 
 ing all unfair riding over wheat, young grass, 
 and layers, he was regarded by the farmers as 
 a friend to their interests; and so far from 
 objecting to a fixture in their neighbourhood, 
 they were glad when it came to their turn. 
 By proper and simple judicious means the end 
 is always attainable; and if those masters of 
 hounds who complain of a dearth of foxes, 
 and opposition to their sport, would but take 
 a memorandum out of the note-book of " our 
 Squire, ' ' many a blank day might be rendered 
 as fruitful as the vine *' clustering with a 
 thousand rings.** 
 
QQ 
 1-4 
 
 w 
 
 a 
 
 < 
 
 1-4 
 
 to 
 
 Q 
 
 < 
 
 W 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 " For easy the lesson of the youthful train 
 
 When instinct prompts, and when example 
 guides." 
 
 ** I HOPE I'm to my time," said the Squire, 
 pulling out his watch. * * Yes, ' ' continued he, 
 glancing at the dial, ** to a minute." 
 
 Immediately after the Squire's arrival, we 
 were thrown into the cover, and, when about 
 the middle of it, I saw Trimbush feather his 
 stern, and before I could reach him he threw 
 his tongue, and, as he did so. Will Sykes gave 
 a cheer which Echo took pleasure to repeat. 
 
 " Hark to Trimbush ! Hark to Trimbush ! 
 Have at him ! Whoop ! ' ' 
 
 We clustered to him, and, poking my nose 
 to the ground, I drew in a scent which made 
 
68 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 every hackle on my body stiffen with delight. 
 Up went my head, and forth I sent some 
 music that came from my very heart. 
 
 " See that puppy," said the Squire. 
 " How he loves it." 
 
 " Have at him, Ringwood," hallooed the 
 huntsman, rising in his stirrups. '* Have at 
 him, good hound! " and then, turning to the 
 Squire, I heard him remark, " He's a perfect 
 wonder, sir." 
 
 " Yes," was the reply, ** he's the most 
 promising I have ever seen." 
 
 We now got to our fox in a body, and 
 crashed him through the cover. Full swing 
 we flew, and, as we swept out of the furze, I 
 was astonished to lose the scent which we had 
 carried so strong up to the corner of the brake, 
 and flung myself here and there to pick it up 
 again. Most of us were sorely puzzled for a 
 few seconds, when Trimbush, after stooping 
 his nose to the ground for some distance, down 
 wind and up, along the verge of the cover, 
 said to, me, " The artful dodger's slipped 
 back, and shot into the brake again." 
 
 ' * Tally-ho ! tally-ho ! Gone away, ' ' 
 hallooed a voice from the farthest end of the 
 cover. 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 69 
 
 " I told you so," said Trimbush. " We 
 were too close to him, and he headed back to 
 make the distance greater at the burst." 
 
 I now sniffed the scent again, and, thinking 
 I was showing off, made as much noise as I 
 possibly could. 
 
 " Keep your tongue still," snapped Trim- 
 bush. " Like most puppies, two-legged and 
 four, if they possess a good voice, they seldom 
 exhibit equal good sense in using it." 
 
 Twing, twing, twang, twa — a — ng, went 
 Will Sykes's horn, as he jammed his horse 
 through bush and briar. 
 
 "For'ard, for'ard," shouted Tom Holt. 
 ** Get to him, hounds, get to him." 
 
 *' Come along," said Trimbush. " Stick 
 tome." 
 
 ** What a clean, fine, lengthy fellow he 
 is! " I heard some one remark. ** His 
 point's Picton Brake." 
 
 " Yes," replied another. ** His brush must 
 be two feet : and what a snowy tag to it ! " 
 
 *' Indeed! " observed Trimbush. '* Then 
 we'll give it such a dusting as to change its 
 colour pretty quickly." 
 
 A bunch of old hounds flew out of cover 
 with us, and, taking up the scent, away we 
 
70 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 rattled in a body, as close as a swarm of 
 bees. 
 
 *' They won't over-ride us to-day," 
 remarked I. 
 
 ** Not if the scent lasts as good as it is," 
 replied Trimbush; ** but that's doubtful." 
 
 For fifteen minutes we burst him along as 
 hard as we could split. The day was fine and 
 warm, and, sinking the wind, the pace began 
 to tell most terribly upon some of us young 
 ones. 
 
 ** I feel very choky," said I, doing my best 
 to keep my place. 
 
 " Hold on," returned Trimbush. " He 
 must have crossed the Kulm stream, and there 
 we shall get a cooling plunge." 
 
 In a handful of seconds we neared the 
 water, and dashed into it with as much 
 delight as a flock of thirsty ducks. 
 
 " Now," said Trimbush, " you'll be able to 
 reach the brake, where, I'd bet my stern to a 
 buck rabbit's scut, he'll hang as long as he can 
 and dare." 
 
 " Why so? " inquired I. 
 
 "Why so! " repeated Trimbush, rather 
 contemptuously. " Because he must know by 
 this time that he can't outrun us. The scent's 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 71 
 
 too good, and we got away with him on such 
 terms that nothing but reaching a strong 
 earth, or changing to a fresh fox, can save 
 him." 
 
 * * We must try to keep to our hunted one, ' ' 
 said I, thinking it was exhibiting some 
 wisdom. 
 
 * ' Try ! ' ' repeated my friend ; " of course 
 we shall try. We always do; but it's some- 
 times impossible to distinguish the difference 
 between the scent of our hunted fox and a 
 fresh one. It's easy enough, when a fox is 
 viewed, to know, because it can be seen 
 whether he's been shoved along at the expense 
 of his bellows and toilet; but our noses can't 
 be depe'nded upon." 
 
 As Trimbush said, upon gaining the brake 
 we found the fox hanging in it ; and, although 
 very hot, we gave him such a towelling, that, 
 so far from improving his condition, he had 
 better have taken to his pads and faced the 
 open. I saw him a dozen times in cover, and 
 his red rag hung from his open jaws, and his 
 brush dragged along the ground. We pressed 
 him up and down across the rides at a killing 
 pace, and although there was no bullying by 
 holding him in cover, and every opportunity 
 
72 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 given him to quit it, he still stuck to his 
 quarters. 
 
 ' * You shall either run or die, ' ' said Trim- 
 bush, going through the cover like a bullet. 
 
 A clear, musical " Tally-ho " now echoed 
 far and wide. 
 
 ** Gone away at last, eh? " observed my 
 friend, and, throwing up his head, he rushed 
 to the halloo. 
 
 '* Hold hard ! " roared the Squire, as one, 
 too eager, rode nearly over me as I leaped 
 from the cover. " You almost killed, sir," 
 continued he, '* the best of my young entry, 
 and perhaps the most valuable puppy I ever 
 bred." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir ; but my horse pulls 
 so, that " 
 
 '* Then he is not fit to ride to hounds, sir," 
 hastily rejoined the Squire. 
 
 Being high on our mettle, we flashed 
 forward, after just touching the scent on a 
 dry-lying fallow, thinking that we had struck 
 on his line; but Trimbush, and a few of the 
 old hounds, soon found that they were wrong, 
 and, throwing up their heads, came to a 
 check. 
 
 ** Let them alone, " said the Squire, as Will 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 73 
 
 Sykes indicated a disposition to make a hasty- 
 cast down wind. ' * Let them alone, ' ' repeated 
 he. 
 
 " He's certain to be making for the belt of 
 covers on the ridge, sir, ' ' replied Will, * ' and 
 the ploughs are so dry that it is impossible 
 for hounds to carry it over them." 
 
 " Let them alone," quietly rejoined the 
 Squire. ** Let them alone." 
 
 ** When allowed to make our own casts, 
 which we always should at first," remarked 
 Trimbush, poking his nose to the ground, 
 " we try down wind first, because that's the 
 way foxes constantly run. It's time enough 
 to cast up when we've made good the cast 
 down. Humph! " continued he, as if 
 puzzled, " I begin to think Will's wrong." 
 
 '* What do you mean ? " inquired I. 
 
 " I don't fancy he's pointed for the covers 
 on the ridge," returned Trimbush; " let's see 
 whether he hasn't headed back," continued 
 he. 
 
 We now tried up wind, and, sure enough, 
 hit it off again under a hedgerow. 
 
 " Ha, ha! " laughed Trimbush. '* He's 
 a sinking one, and has turned to die." 
 
 We now rattled on full swing over a 
 
74 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 common, and on climbing a steep hill I saw a 
 magpie darting to the ground and then rising 
 high in the air' to swoop again. 
 
 " What's that chattering pie doing? " 
 inquired I, directing Trimbush's attention to 
 the bird. 
 
 " Mobbing him," replied he. " The mag- 
 pie, jay and crow love to mob a sinking fox. 
 Keep your eye forward; it will soon be from 
 scent to view. ' ' 
 
 ** Are those covers strong?" I asked, 
 seeing that we were making for a long line of 
 trees. 
 
 •^ Little more than spinnies," replied my 
 friend. ** He can't hang in them a minute." 
 
 We drove him through these little covers 
 without let, check, or stop; and at the last, 
 out he flew in view of all of us. We rushed at 
 him like greyhounds from the slips ; but, with 
 a desperate effort to save his life, he managed 
 to dash round the corner of a barn, and, as we 
 turned, I saw him slipping along on the top 
 of a thick square-topped hawthorn fence, 
 and, springing upon the trunk of a tree 
 covered with ivy, disappear. None of the 
 others saw this artful dodge; but all flashed 
 forward, and were bewildered at not either 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 75 
 
 viewing or being able to hit him off. Trim- 
 bush flung himself here and there in a perfect 
 fury, and would not pay the smallest attention 
 to what I had to say. 
 
 '* Put your nose down and work," said he 
 passionately, ** don't talk to me." 
 
 "But I tell you " 
 
 (( 
 
 Pshaw! " interrupted Trimbush. 
 '' What's your head in the air for? " 
 
 ** Because the fox is in the air," replied I. 
 
 " What do you mean? " asked he, seeing 
 that I was serious. 
 
 I then told him that which I had seen, and 
 inquired what I should do. 
 
 " Hold your tongue," returned the artful 
 old rogue; ** it shows a wise head, I've heard. 
 Leave the matter to me. ' * 
 
 In order to monopolize the whole of the 
 credit to himself, Trimbush galloped to the 
 tree and dashed at it, in the attempt to climb 
 the knarled and knotted trunk. 
 
 "What's that hound about? " said the 
 Squire, looking greatly astonished. 
 
 I now saw that Trimbush would get all the 
 praise of discovering our fox's hiding place, 
 and felt greatly vexed with myself that I had 
 not gone at once to the tree and thrown my 
 
76 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 tongue. The rest now clustered round the 
 leader, who, managing to stick and cling to 
 the ivy, got some dozen feet from the ground. 
 
 '* He's gone to tree, sir," said Will Sykes, 
 exultingly, as he threw himself from the 
 saddle. 
 
 " That he has," returned the Squire, 
 scarcely knowing which to be — more 
 astonished or pleased. 
 
 To the infinite surprise of the field, who 
 came dropping up one by one, they saw the 
 huntsman drag a fox by the brush from a 
 hollow in the tree, and catching him by the 
 neck to prevent the visitation of his grinders, 
 hold him up over his head with a halloo that 
 might wake the dead. 
 
 " Who-whoop, who- whoop! " cried Tom 
 Holt. 
 
 "Who- whoop, who- who- whoop ! " hallooed 
 Ned Adams, in his good and choice voice, 
 which always had the effect of working us 
 into a frenzy. 
 
 " He'd give us a run now," lisped a young 
 gentleman in pink, ** if he was turned down 
 and had a little law given him." 
 
 I could have bitten his head off. 
 
 "My hounds deserve their fox, sir," replied 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 77 
 
 the Squire. " He is beaten, and nothing but 
 an accidental escape — like this might have 
 been — could have saved him. There have been 
 no unfair means used, from the find to the 
 finish; and the only illiberal, unsportsman- 
 like act, would be now to run the risk of 
 robbing the hounds of that which they have 
 justly won and made their own." 
 
 Not exactly among us, but not far from 
 where I stood — I think Will did it on 
 purpose to please me — the fox was thrown, 
 and my teeth were the first to fix themselves 
 across his loins. I had been taught in cub- 
 hunting not to gripe elsewhere ; but as it was, 
 he gave me a nasty pinch in the cheek. 
 
 In a few moments afterwards he was given 
 to us to be broken up, and then somebody 
 asked the Squire "if he would not try for 
 another fox, as it was early? " 
 
 " No," replied our master, shaking his 
 head. " We are fifteen miles from kennel. 
 The hounds have had a good deal of fatiguing 
 work in cover, and are satisfied with a novel 
 but glorious finish. I shall not run the risk 
 of tiring them more, perhaps for nothing, and 
 doing away with that spirit which the sport 
 of the day must have given, I hope, to every 
 
 G 
 
78 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 one present." And lifting his hat, string 
 high, he bowed and joined the side of his 
 huntsman. 
 
 As we trotted along down a bye road, with 
 our sterns well up over our backs, and feeling 
 as proud as peacocks, I heard Will Sykes 
 remark, " It was a good forty minutes, sir." 
 
 " Yes," replied his master with a slight 
 smile, ** but it would not have been so long 
 if you had made that cast." 
 
 ** If I had done that, sir," replied the 
 huntsman, dropping his voice to a whisper, 
 '* if I had done that, sir," repeated he, " we 
 should have lost our fox." 
 
 "Let them alone, eh?" rejoined the 
 Squire, smiling more perceptibly. 
 
 " Ay," returned Will. " Let them alone 
 is a beautiful rule." 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 ** See, the day begins to break, 
 And the light shoots like a streak 
 Of subtle fire ; the wind blows cold 
 While the morning doth unfold : 
 Now the birds begin to rouse, 
 And the squirrel from the boughs 
 Leaps to get him nuts and fruit : 
 The early lark that erst was mute, 
 Carols to the rising day 
 Many a note and many a lay." 
 
 I WOKE the following morning soon after 
 the first tinge of day had streaked the east, 
 and found myself terribly stiff and foot-sore. 
 My nose, too, was hot, and I felt very thirsty. 
 
 ** What's the matter? " asked Trimbush, 
 waking, as I gave a whine of uneasiness. 
 
 " I'm not well," replied I, limping from 
 the bench. 
 
 ** Oh, it's nothing to care about," replied 
 he, yawning and stretching his limbs. 
 
80 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 " Yesterday's work has taken the steel and 
 wire out of ye, that's all." 
 
 " It does not appear to have touched you," 
 rejoined I. 
 
 ' ' Me ! ' ' returned Trimbush, grinning so 
 that he showed every tooth in his head. " Do 
 you know, youngster, what you are? " 
 
 ** Yes," answered I proudly: "one who 
 does his duty, and gives as much satisfaction 
 as any of you oldsters.'' 
 
 " Well, well! " responded he, "I must 
 admit that you allow yourself to be taught; 
 and both the duty and satisfaction which you 
 give at present are concentrated in that one 
 great and good quality." 
 
 Feeling somewhat humbled at this reply, 
 and smarting under the advantage taken of 
 me the day before, I added sharply, " There 
 was no teaching me to instruct you how to 
 obtain all the credit of the finish yesterday. ' ' 
 
 " Hear, hear, hear," said one of our com- 
 panions called Chancellor. 
 
 ' ' At him again ! ' ' exclaimed a spaded 
 bitch named Levity, and of the same age as 
 myself. " Take a suck at the lemon, and at 
 him again ! * ' 
 
 ** You're a sharp lot," replied the old 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 81 
 
 hound, with a mingled look of contempt and 
 indifference, " a very sharp lot indeed. I 
 couldn't think,' he continued, turning to me, 
 " what made the tip of your stern curl over 
 your head and tickle your nose until now. I 
 have heard of a French poodle's being so stiff 
 in the bend that he couldn't get his hind legs 
 to the ground ; but hang me if your conceit is 
 not about a match for his." 
 
 '* But you must admit," observed Chan- 
 cellor, * ' that without him we should not have 
 broken up our fox yesterday." 
 
 **Well!" returned Trimbush, "and 
 supposing I do admit it, what then ? ' ' 
 
 * ' You should not have snatched the honour 
 from him," replied Levity. 
 
 ** Honour? " rejoined Trimbush. " Pooh! 
 The honour was already gained before we 
 mouthed the fox. We all like blood for the 
 finish — men as well as hounds — but it does not 
 follow that there may not be quite as much 
 credit due to both without a who-whoop as 
 with it. For instance," continued he, " if 
 ^ that youngster Ringwood had had his nose to 
 the ground — as he should have done the 
 moment the fox was lost to view, instead of 
 occupying himself by stargazing — we should, 
 
82 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 in all probability, have lost our fox. What 
 would have caused us to have done so ? A mere 
 accident, for which no one would have been 
 to blame. And what, let me ask, enabled us 
 to obtain a more desirable result? Just 
 as accidental a circumstance. Honour? 
 Fudge! " 
 
 *' At any rate," said Chancellor, " I heard 
 everybody praising what they called your 
 sagacity for discovering the fox in the tree." 
 
 " It's the way with those fools of men," 
 replied Trimbush. " They often laud that 
 m us which deserves no praise whatever, and 
 pass by in silence some of our most remarkable 
 accomplishments. ' ' 
 
 I felt that there was much truth in Trim- 
 bush's argument; and although a sly twinkle 
 in his eyes led me to suspect that he made 
 thus light of my information for a selfish 
 purpose, I lost a great deal of the vanity 
 which I hitherto had entertained from being 
 the agent of so fine a finish. 
 
 " You chanced to remark yesterday," said 
 I, " that foxes constantly run down wind. 
 Why do they ? Is it to render the scent less 
 strong for us ? " 
 
 " Certainly not," responded Trimbush. 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 83 
 
 ** The scent has nothing whatever to do 
 with it, notwithstanding what a parcel of 
 cackling geese may have said and written. 
 The truth is, a fox is a timid, sly animal with 
 extraordinary quick ears and eyes, and a 
 famous nose. When found, he, of course, 
 must break where there's an opening; and as 
 no men place themselves up wind of us, or 
 very seldom, that side is generally left free, 
 and away he rattles uf wind at the burst. I 
 am now, of course, speaking of the rule, and 
 not the exceptions. He does not go far, 
 however, before he smells, hears, or sees 
 something unpleasant, which turns him either 
 to the right or left. Another lurking cause 
 of suspicion that there's an enemy in front, 
 as well as those in the rear turns him again, 
 and so on until he gets his head straight down 
 wind, when, smelling and hearing nothing 
 before him, he tries to make his point and get 
 out of the reach of our ringing cries, and, as 
 he knows full well — whetted appetites." 
 " That sounds reasonable," remarked I. 
 " Thank you," rejoined the old hound, 
 flourishing his stern. '* I'm flattered with 
 your approval." 
 
 " I noticed that the scent continued to 
 
84 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 improve after the first ten minutes," said I, 
 ** until within a short time of running him 
 to view, when it seemed to gradually die and 
 become more faint." 
 
 " It not only seemed," replied Trimbush, 
 * ' but it did so, and from obvious reasons. 
 Every animal with a skin — and I don't 
 remember at this moment any without," 
 facetiously continued he, " smells stronger 
 when hot than cold. Fear often produces the 
 same effect, but from the like cause — as any 
 excitement, whether pleasurable or the 
 reverse, produces physical heat. Now, after 
 a fox is found, his scent increases — although, 
 from the state of the weather and ground, we 
 may not be able to hunt him a yard, neverthe- 
 less — so long as exhaustion does not take 
 place ; and then as he sinks, so does the scent 
 decrease. The reasons for this," continued 
 Trimbush, " are as simple as they are 
 indubitable. The perspirable matter escaping 
 through the skin augments for a time from 
 exertion, and the devil of a fright he is in 
 from our rattling behind him : but this begins 
 to die away after excessive evaporation, and 
 often has caused us to lose a fox scarcely able 
 to crawl." 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 85 
 
 *' I thought the scent came from the pads," 
 remarked Levity. 
 
 ** And what made ye think that ? " sneered 
 the old hound. 
 
 " I don't exactly know," replied Levity; 
 " but certainly such was my opinion." 
 
 * • Then never express such a foolish one for 
 the future," rejoined Trimbush. ** If it 
 came from the foot, how could we carry a 
 good head in a body, and each have a fair 
 share of the scent ? We should have to run 
 and follow each other in a string, and one or 
 two might do the work, after drawing, as well 
 as twenty or five-and-twenty couples. Again, 
 if it came from the foot, how could we carry 
 it through water. I say, and ought to know 
 something about the matter," continued the 
 old hound, emphatically, " that the scent 
 proceeds from the entire animal. The back, 
 belly, head, foot, brush, and — and— and — 
 exactly so, and every part else." 
 
 Old Mark was now heard approaching, 
 which at once put a stop to the discussion ; and 
 as soon as the good old man saw that I was 
 lame he examined my feet and washed them 
 with something which he took from a bottle 
 hung by a piece of string to the button-hole of 
 
86 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 his frock. A few others he served in the same 
 way ; and calling us each by name, let us into 
 another court, saying, ** You puppies shall 
 feed by yourselves this morning ; you all want 
 a little nursing, I find." 
 
 Will Sykes entered soon afterwards, and, 
 seeing Mark's arrangement for our comfort, 
 observed, '* That's right; those puppies want 
 taking care of." 
 
 *' Ay," replied Mark, smoothing down my 
 sleek ears and patting my sides, ** I hear some 
 of 'em deserve it." 
 
 *' That Ringwood," rejoined the hunts- 
 man, " is more like a third-seasoned hound 
 than a puppy at the beginning of his first." 
 
 Old Mark's eyes glistened again at this; 
 and looking at me for a few seconds as I 
 lashed my stern to and fro and stared him full 
 in the face, to let him understand I knew all 
 that was being said of me, he muttered, " If 
 a draft of hounds ever goes to heaven, you'll 
 be one of 'em, my lad." 
 
 All this praise tended to make me a little 
 vainer than I otherwise should have been, 
 perhaps; but at the same time it fixed my 
 resolution to merit as much as I could of it. 
 And I have often thought since, that there is 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 87 
 
 Dothing like encouragement to the young and 
 inexperienced. The difficulties of attaining 
 anything worth learning are always great, 
 and using harsh and severe means on the part 
 of the teachers only makes the attempt more 
 painful and repulsive. Punishment is, 
 occasionally, indispensable for obstinacy or 
 repeated offences; but there is nothing like a 
 cheer for improvement. 
 
 After breakfast, and when we were all 
 assembled in the court, the subject of scent 
 was again renewed by Levity observing, in a 
 confidential whisper to me, but which was 
 overheard by Trimbush, '* that she very much 
 questioned the correctness of the old hound's 
 opinion concerning it." 
 
 ** You question?" snarled Trimbush. 
 " We shall certainly hear," continued he, 
 *' of mewling, puking babes teaching their 
 grandmothers to suck eggs, by and bye." 
 
 Levity looked abashed at this satirical 
 remark, and, burying her nose between her 
 fore feet, appeared resolved to give herself to 
 silence bordering on the sulky. 
 
 ** There's nothing so puzzling, nothing so 
 difficult to comprehend by the best and most 
 experienced of us," said Trimbush, address- 
 
88 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 ing me, * * as the philosophy of scent ; and yet, 
 forsooth, we are to be told by a babbling 
 puppy that " 
 
 "Well, well! " said I, interrupting his 
 irate speech, ** don't get in a passion about 
 a trifle." 
 
 " Right," replied my friend, smoothing 
 the bristling hackles on his back. ^* Quite 
 right. Life is made up of trifles, as the hours 
 are of seconds, days of hours, years of days, 
 and ages of years. Life's trifles are the 
 atoms in unity, forming the whole." 
 
 Not wishing to enter into a discussion of 
 this sort, I led Trimbush back to the original 
 subject by saying, " I should like to hear a 
 little more about the philosophy of scent." 
 
 ' ' There is little more to add, ' ' returned he, 
 " as far as I know. Depending, as I have 
 before said, on the weather, which changes 
 sometimes three or four times in a day, and 
 the state of the ground, the rule is, that it is 
 invariably uncertain. In windy weather we 
 are often accused of being wild and flashy; 
 but the fact is, that the particles of scent 
 being widely spread and wafted about, one 
 hits it here, another there, and we fly from one 
 to the other, each thinking that some are on 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 89 
 
 the right line, and may slip away with it 
 unseen down wind. There is nothing more 
 tiresome than a gale of wind in hunting, both 
 to us and men. We can't hear each other, and 
 they can't hear us; and it is matter of doubt 
 to me which is the worst of the two — a thick 
 fog, or a blowing gusty wind. I may here 
 remark," continued Trimbush, " that there 
 is a strange fact connected with scent, which 
 I have not heard attempted to be accounted 
 for. On the going off of a frost, we can run 
 the drag hard, right up to the kennel, and yet 
 be unable to run an inch afterwards." 
 
 ** That seems very singular," said I. 
 
 ** I suppose it to be," resumed my com- 
 panion, " that the scent clings to whatever 
 the animal rubs against or passes over during 
 the night ; and having gone slowly, a greater 
 portion is emitted, which is preserved by the 
 frost, and the thaw having loosened the 
 particles, enables us to take them up." 
 
 ** But how do you account for not being 
 able to run after he is unkennelled ? " asked I. 
 
 * * Because his skin is cold ; and going at a 
 greater pace, there is not sufficient time for 
 the small quantity of scent escaping to lie 
 strong enough to overcome the exhalations 
 
90 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 from the ground, occasioned by the warmth of 
 the day." 
 
 This sage reasoning on the part of Trim- 
 bush made me feel very small in my own 
 estimation, and I made up my mind to follow 
 his advice for some time to come, and listen 
 rather than give tongue. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 ** To hear the lark begin his flight, 
 And singing startle the duil night, 
 From his watch-tower in the skies. 
 Till the dappled dawn doth rise; 
 Then to come in spite of sorrow, 
 And at my window bid good morrow, 
 Through the sweet-briar, or the vine, 
 Or the twisted eglantine. 
 
 » » * * * 
 
 Oft listening how the hounds and horn 
 Cheerly rouse the slumbering morn." 
 
 " I HATE this meet," observed Tom Holt, 
 as we arrived at four cross ways close to the 
 market town nearest our kennel. " I hate this 
 meet worse than any we have in the country." 
 
 " It's not a pleasant one, certainly," 
 replied the huntsman. 
 
 "Pleasant?" repeated Tom. "In the 
 first place there's a nasty, close, woodland 
 country with banks as high as churches. Then 
 
92 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 we have a pack of riff-raff counterskippers to 
 over-ride hounds, halloo, head the fox, and 
 play the devil. And as if this was not enough 
 for one blessed day's misery the Squire him- 
 self generally finds fault all day long with 
 everybody and everything, when the fixture's 
 at these four cross ways." 
 
 '' We had better christen them the cross 
 purposes then," returned Will Sykes. 
 
 *' I don't mean to say," continued Tom, 
 without noticing the huntsman's remark, 
 * * but he may have — heaven knows ! — ^lots of 
 causes to put him out of temper; still it's 
 rather hard to feel oneself suffering for the 
 faults of others. ' ' 
 
 "It is not an unusual circumstance, 
 though," said Will Sykes. ** I have often 
 heard of similar instances unconnected with 
 hounds and hunting." 
 
 Some of the field had arrived before us, and 
 others were trotting briskly up, the hoofs of 
 their horses clattering along the roads in all 
 directions. 
 
 ' * We must look out for ourselves to-day, ' ' 
 said Trimbush, " or there will be cases for 
 the hospital." 
 
 " They are a rough-looking set," replied I, 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 93 
 
 glancing at some thirty horses, not one of 
 which would fetch ten pounds, and all in a 
 high state of perspiration, with their riders 
 puffing cigars and smelling of all kinds of 
 horrible mixtures. I felt quite ill, and a little 
 more would have turned my stomach. 
 
 "If any of these gentlemen," remarked 
 Trimbush, sneezing, " of high rank and 
 particular smell, get down wind of us to-day, 
 we shall not be able to hunt a yard." 
 
 " What a dreadful thing it is," returned I, 
 *' that men should make themselves so 
 offensive. I don't suppose they have any 
 noses, have they? " 
 
 '* Can't you see they have? " replied my 
 companion. 
 
 " But it doesn't follow that they are any 
 use," said I. 
 
 "Well! " added Trimbush, "as far as 
 that goes I don't think they are, although I 
 have heard of some men capable of smelling a 
 rat." 
 
 A few of the gentlemen who regularly 
 
 ^■joined us now came up on their hacks, and 
 
 instantly afterwards their clothed and hooded 
 
 hunters, being led up and down by neatly 
 
 dressed and light-weight grooms, were 
 
 H 
 
94 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 stripped and mounted by their respective 
 owners. The contrast was strangely striking 
 between these and the " roughs," and, 
 perhaps, caused my admiration to be greater 
 as I regarded each climbing into the pigskin. 
 
 Our master, as was his wont, and which 
 should be that of every one entitled to the 
 dignity of a M.F.H., made his appearance to 
 the minute of the hour fixed, and, lifting his 
 hat, saluted the field generally, while he gave 
 his hand, and exTchanged warmer salutations 
 with his friends and associates. 
 
 Our first draw was Pickton brake, a large 
 furze cover about a mile and a half from the 
 meet, and there we trotted with the gratifying 
 expectation of a sure find. 
 
 ** Mind what I say," remarked Trimbush, 
 " if you don't keep your eyes and ears back- 
 ward as well as forward to-day, you will 
 have a dozen horses go over ye and not a bone 
 left in your skin unbroken. Be quick as 
 lightning, and if you flash over the scent, 
 never mind; don't throw up and check if 
 there's a chance of being ridden over. 1 
 never do. It's not our fault if they won't 
 give us room." 
 
 " I'll take care of myself," replied I. 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 95 
 
 Upon nearing the cover the office was 
 given, and into it we dashed, and shortly 
 afterwards the whimperings in various parts 
 proved that there was more than one fox in 
 it, I hit upon a drag and opened loudly, 
 when Trimbush reproved me, after poking 
 his nose where I had mine, saying, ** Not so 
 noisy, not so noisy. Let's have a distinction 
 between opening on a drag, and a good hearty 
 challenge when he's found." 
 
 An old favourite line hunter, called 
 Rasselas, now threw his tongue. 
 
 •' That's it," said Trimbush, flying to the 
 cry, and taking it up, his roar thundered 
 through the brake. 
 
 "Have at him! " hallooed Will Sykes. 
 " Have at him, hoik. Hoik, hoik together ! " 
 
 It was evident that a brace was on foot, and 
 the Squire, looking more serious than usual, 
 desired that the field might move away from 
 one side of the cover and be quiet, otherwise 
 there was a probability of a chop taking place. 
 
 About a minute afterwards, out came a 
 fine, lengthy dog-fox. 
 
 * * Tally-ho ! ' ' shrieked a muffin on a hired 
 knacker, and back the fox dived into the 
 brake again. 
 
96 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 ( ( 
 
 It is most strange, sir, ' ' said the Squire, 
 riding up to the side of the offender, " that 
 you should give yourself the trouble of 
 hallooing, I pay three servants to do that 
 work, and, although I am extremely obliged 
 for your voluntary assistance, I shall feel 
 much more indebted, as will many of the 
 gentlemen present, if, for the rest of the day, 
 you'll hold your tongue." 
 
 I never saw a muffin so browned in the 
 whole course of my life. If he had been 
 8worn at and called a parcel of hard names — 
 which always recoil upon the utterers of them 
 — he might have been made more angry; but 
 nothing could be more effective than the rate 
 from the cutting, gentlemanlike tone and 
 manner which accompanied it. 
 
 In consequence of being scared with this 
 halloo, the fox showed the greatest disinclina- 
 tion to break a second time, and the day being 
 very warm, and the cover strong, we began 
 to feel as if a spider had been spinning cob- 
 webs in our throats. 
 
 " It's choking work this," said I. 
 
 " Yes," replied Trimbush. ** There's no 
 wind here. Let's press him as hard as we 
 can; for he feels it as well as us, recollect." 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 97 
 
 We now rattled him up to the top of the 
 cover, and, crossing a ride, Will Sykes 
 viewed him, and giving us a ringing view- 
 halloo, convinced us we were on our hunted 
 fox. 
 
 " There's a leash a-foot, sir," said the 
 huntsman, as the Squire now came to his 
 assistance. 
 
 " Then get them as near to him as you 
 can," replied the Squire, " and prevent them 
 getting on the other lines." 
 
 Ned Adams now viewed the fox in a broad 
 open ride, and hallooed, " Tally-ho! " 
 
 " Never mind," said Trimbush, as I was 
 about leaving the scent to fly to the halloo. 
 " Ned Adams, like yourself," continued he, 
 " is young and cannot be depended upon. 
 Keep your nose down; we are quite close 
 enough to carry him over the other lines of 
 scent without changing." 
 
 Immediately afterwards I heard the Squire 
 ask in a loud, angry voice, ** Why did you 
 halloo? " 
 
 ** Because I viewed the hunted fox, sir," 
 replied Ned, touching his cap deferentially. 
 
 "Where? " 
 
 ** At the bottom of the ride, sir." 
 
98 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 ** And you standing at the top," returned 
 the Squire, ** when you must hear that the 
 body is well settled to him, halloo them away. 
 What could be your object? " 
 
 '* I thought the stragglers " 
 
 Would rather fly to their tongues than to 
 your foolish halloo, ' ' interrupted the Squire, 
 " or you ought to have thought so." 
 
 " You see," added Trimbush, " I was 
 right. But all young 'uns think they know 
 everything, and the study and experience of 
 the oldsters go for nothing." 
 
 We had now given him such a dusting that 
 he could hang no longer, and Tom, holding up 
 his hat at the farthest end of the brake up 
 wind, quietly announced that he had gone 
 away. 
 
 Following Will, crashing through the 
 furze, I heard Tom say to him, " He's just 
 crossed the road," pointing with his whip to 
 the exact spot. 
 
 We flew in a body to it, and, taking up the 
 scent, away we went. 
 
 *' Get on," said Trimbush, " and we may, 
 perhaps, shake off the rabble and have a run. 
 It's our only chance." 
 
 We carried a fine head across the first field 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 99 
 
 of some thirty acres of grass, and crossing 
 two wide ditches — which would be called 
 brooks in some counties — we began to hope 
 that these would prove of essential service in 
 stopping the mob. A blind bullfinch, too, 
 increased our sanguine hopes on this head, 
 and we began to flatter ourselves that a good 
 day's sport was in store, when we had to 
 throw up and check. 
 
 ** That ploughman's headed him," said 
 Trimbush, making a cast to the right, " and 
 he's down wind as sure as I'm a foxhound." 
 
 He was right, and hitting it off, with an 
 improving scent, we dovni with our sterns 
 and raced along at our best pace. A large 
 flock of sheep was before us, and, notwith- 
 standing they ran some distance, we managed 
 to carry it through the stained ground, with a 
 little careful picking, without much loss of 
 time. I saw Will Sykes in doubt as to 
 whether he should not cast us forward; but 
 thinking, perhaps, of the sensible rule of 
 " letting us alone," and as we did not throw 
 up, he, luckily for himself, kept his horn 
 quiet. Had he twanged it he would have had 
 the Squire about his ears. 
 
 As the ground was good and we had a turn 
 
100 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 of wind in our favour, we set to work and 
 soon recovered the little time lost through the 
 sheep. There was now every probability of 
 having a glorious day's sport. The field had 
 been thinned materially at the burst, and 
 those with us were not near enough to do any 
 harm. 
 
 " It will be short and fast to-day," said 
 Trimbush, exultingly. 
 
 The scent was now a burning one, and we 
 all bristled for blood. Across three deep 
 fallows we carried it in great force into and 
 across a green lane, flanked by two tall quicks, 
 when suddenly the leading hounds threw up. 
 
 '' What's the matter? " inquired several, 
 throwing up their heads. 
 
 " Find out," briefly replied Trimbush, 
 doing his best to accomplish the deed himself. 
 
 In a few seconds the lane became full of 
 horses; for it is wonderful how courageous 
 men are in spinning along the roads. Some 
 came screaming up and cracking their whips, 
 and instead of sticking to our work we began 
 flying about in every direction. 
 
 The Squire scolded. Will roared, Tom lost 
 his patience, and Ned Adams thundered out 
 " Hold har-r-r-d! " until black in the face. 
 
I 
 
 < 
 
 w 
 
 Q 
 
 o 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 101 
 
 At this juncture, a fellow with his hat 
 hanging by the string, his long lank hair 
 streaming in the wind, coat tails sticking well 
 out, and his horse's head close to his chest, 
 came tearing up the lane. Bang he went 
 against me, rolling me over and over like a 
 football. I thought my back was broken, and 
 sung out with pain and fright most lustily. 
 
 " William," said the Squire, sternly. 
 '* Take the hounds home. ' ' 
 
 Will touched his cap, and the order was 
 obeyed. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 ** Oh ! what avails the largest gifts of heaven 
 When drooping health and spirits go amiss ? 
 How tasteless then whatever can be given ; 
 Health is the vital principle of bliss." 
 
 " Lick that stain off your flank," said 
 Trimbush, pointing to the dirt on my side. 
 
 ' * Why should I be so particular ? ' ' replied 
 I, obeying his instructions, " we don't go 
 out to-day." 
 
 " No," rejoined he; *' but the Squire's 
 coming to inspect us, and, I suppose, you'd 
 like to appear nice and comely in his eyes." 
 
 " What do you mean by that? " I asked, 
 applying my tongue more diligently to the 
 completion of my toilet. 
 
 " You'll see in a few minutes," added 
 Trimbush, " and if everything isn't in 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 103 
 
 gingerly order, I'll bet a week's meal and 
 broth, those will hear of it who are responsible 
 for their neglect." 
 
 The greatest neatness and cleanliness were 
 always observed in our kennel; but I noticed 
 old Mark had put a polish on his shoes, and a 
 white neckerchief was tied, with much skill 
 displayed in the bow, round his throat. Will 
 Sykes, too, Tom Holt, and Ned Adams, upon 
 entering the court, exhibited more care than 
 usual in their dress on non-hunting days. 
 
 The huntsman, glancing round and seeing 
 all was unobjectionable as far as his hope and 
 belief went, pulled a watch out of his fob, 
 and observed that * * the Squire will be here in 
 seven minutes three-eighths." 
 
 " Can you time him to a second? " said 
 Mark smiling 
 
 '* Ay," replied Will, " it doesn't require a 
 gauge to do that with his rules. ' ' 
 
 As a distant clock was striking, the bell 
 rung at the kennel door. 
 
 "I said so," remarked the huntsman, and 
 upon opening it he lifted his hat, and in 
 walked our worthy master. 
 
 *' Now for my frock," said he, and one as 
 white as snow was brought by old Mark, who 
 
104 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 was sensitively jealous of the privilege of 
 assisting the Squire to make his kennel toilet. 
 
 When attired he proceeded to the boiling- 
 house, examined the boiling flesh, coppers, 
 and everything belonging to that department. 
 Then turning into the feeding-room, he 
 looked at the troughs and expressed himself 
 satisfied with the perfect order that all 
 things were in belonging to this. 
 
 In going to the lodging rooms, Will Sykes 
 said, " How would you like to have them 
 drawn, sir? " 
 
 " Each hound singly," replied the Squire, 
 " and the entry first." 
 
 It was some little time before it came to my 
 turn; but when my name was called out I 
 sprang, and as soon as I made my appearance, 
 the Squire took a piece of biscuit from his 
 pocket and throwing it to me, said " Here 
 Ringwood, beauty," and caressed me kindly. 
 
 One or two of my young companions 
 evinced some temper and jealousy at this, and 
 growled deeply with up-reared hackles. 
 
 "Come, come," hallooed Tom, correctingly, 
 and a crack from his thong soon silenced the 
 grumblers. 
 
 " His nose is hot," observed the Squire, 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 105 
 
 touching my nostrils, and standing a few feet 
 back followed up the remark by saying, 
 ** What is that redness on his flank ? " 
 
 ** A little heat, I think, sir," replied the 
 huntsman, making a more careful examina- 
 tion of me. 
 
 ** Then cool him," was the reply, " and let 
 him stay at home to-morrow." 
 
 I was very sorry to hear this order given; 
 for although I felt far from being in health, 
 I was anything but disposed to be placed on 
 the hospital list. 
 
 Being passed forward to the others. 
 Vanquisher was summoned, and the Squire 
 noticing him limp, said, " What is the matter 
 with that hound? He's lame." 
 
 ** He has cut his near fore-foot a little," 
 replied Will. 
 
 ** Let me see," rejoined our master, and 
 upon lifting it up, said, " He has sprung a 
 claw, and you ought to have known it." 
 
 The huntsman's face became a little flushed, 
 and he looked as if he felt the rebuke keenly. 
 
 There was no further remark of censure 
 after this, and when the entire presentation 
 had been gone through with, the Squire took 
 his departure, expressing himself perfectly 
 
106 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 satisfied and content with the general 
 arrangements of the establishment. 
 
 "I'm not going out to-morrow," said I to 
 Trimbush, with my spirits down to zero. 
 
 ' ' Never mind, ' ' replied my friend ; adding, 
 by way of consolation, that he would give me 
 a good account of the day's sport. 
 
 " Yes," rejoined I, " but that's a poor 
 makeshift for the disappointment of not 
 joining in it." 
 
 " Well, well! " added he, hastily. " We 
 can't have everything as we could wish, and 
 must make the best of crooked matters when 
 they occur. I dare say," continued Trimbush, 
 *' that the blow you received the other day, 
 with the fright, may have put you out of 
 sorts." 
 
 ''Probably," said I, "and I wish the 
 fellow " 
 
 " Pish, pish ! " interrupted my companion. 
 " You might as well wish him good as wish 
 him evil. We have no more power in the one 
 case than in the other, and it's old womanish 
 to snap your teeth when you can't bite." 
 
 " I heard a man say, when we were out 
 last," said I, resolved to take advantage of 
 Trimbush's present loquacious humour; for 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 107 
 
 the old hound spent most of his time in a sort 
 of dreaming, winking, blinking state in the 
 kennel, and was excessively out of temper if 
 disturbed, " I heard a man say when we 
 were out last," repeated I, " that he liked to 
 see a flying hound, and would hang every line- 
 hunter that was ever bred." 
 
 *' He must have known a great deal about 
 fox-hunting," replied Trimbush, with a 
 sarcastic grin, " a very great deal indeed. I 
 should like to have his name and address." 
 
 ** Of course he was wrong," observed I, 
 with a slight touch of the interrogative in the 
 remark. 
 
 " Wrong? " repeated Trimbush. '* Ha, 
 ha, ha ! It makes my old sides ache again. 
 What would the flying, flashy devils do when 
 the scent fails at head if it was not for the 
 line-hunters ? By a line-hunter, I don't mean 
 one of those old pottering fools who stick 
 their noses to the ground as if they intended 
 them to take root there; but a hound, that 
 when he has stopped long enough to satisfy 
 himself that he is on the line, holds forward, 
 and occasionally feels for the scent. That is 
 what I call a killing line-hunter, and is a 
 guide and pilot for the pack. Often will you 
 
108 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 see the flyers with their heads up and sterns 
 down, and no more notion of stooping than a 
 flock of stray pigeons, flash a field or two 
 over the scent, and then back they turn and 
 follow the line-hunter in his cast, and the 
 moment he touches it, at him they dash, catch 
 it up, and away they race again. But who 
 gets all the praise? " continued the old 
 hound, " Why, those who did none of the 
 work." 
 
 " The Squire would give the applause to 
 whom it was due, though," replied I. 
 
 " Yes, yes, yes," rejoined my companion, 
 " and so would every true sportsman; but 
 where there is one who understands fox-hunt- 
 ing as a science, there are five hundred who 
 know no more about it than un-hatched torn 
 tits. There are foxes and circumstances," 
 continued he, " that will beat the best hunts- 
 man that ever cheered a hound or blew a horn ; 
 but in nine cases out of ten the cause lies in 
 not paying attention to the line-hunters. 
 Hang every line-hunter that was ever bred ! 
 Ha, ha, ha ! " and the old hound's laugh of 
 derision rung through the courts and lodging- 
 houses far and wide. 
 
 "I am very glad you told me this," 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 109 
 
 returned I ; " for I began to think, from what 
 I heard, there was nothing so likely to insure 
 the praise of the field as having one's head in 
 the air and flying like a bird." 
 
 " Nor is there," added Trimbush. " But 
 who cares for the praise of a set of fools? 
 I'd rather have one * Yo — o ' from our 
 master, or a * Hark to Trimbush, have at 
 him, hark,' from Will Sykes, than all the 
 yells and whoops from the greatest mob that 
 ever met by a cx)ver-side. ' ' 
 
 ''That's true," said I. "There's no 
 pleasure to be had from their cheer." 
 
 '* Only last season," continued my friend, 
 " some fellow who was dressed as if he knew 
 better, absolutely cheered a second-season 
 hound babbling the moment he was in cover. 
 ' Softly, softly,' hallooed Will, cracking his 
 whip. ' Why, it's a challenge,' said the 
 gentleman in pink. * Yes, sir, ' replied Will, 
 * such a challenge that will cause him to have 
 a hempen cord put round his throat to-morrow 
 morning. We've put up with his noise long 
 enough, and longer than the Squire would 
 have done had I obeyed his orders strictly." 
 
 " And was he hung! " inquired I, feeling 
 a cold shiver run through my veins. 
 
no THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 " Yes," replied Trimbush. " He was led 
 out of the court the next day, with a rope 
 round his neck, to suffer for his repeated 
 offence. It made us very sad to see him taken 
 away; but no caution or punishment could 
 break him of the habit, and his example was 
 a shocking one for the young entry." 
 
 *' I'll take great care not to acquire such 
 an one," said I. 
 
 " Several made the same remark," replied 
 Trimbush, " and some, who were rather 
 prone to indulge in kicking up a row for 
 nothing, made serious resolutions to avoid 
 doing so for the future, when the fate of the 
 babbler was witnessed." 
 
 " It was necessary, I suppose, for the 
 discipline of the pack? " rejoined I. 
 
 *' Ay," added the old hound, " if it were 
 not for strict discipline we should be as 
 ungovernable, wild, and useless as a lot of 
 untamed tigers. Indeed," continued he, 
 ** I'm not certain that the tigers couldn't be 
 turned to greater advantage." 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 *' Cold grew the foggy morn: the day was brief: 
 Loose on the cherry hung the crimson leaf : 
 The dew dwelt ever on the herb, the woods 
 Roared with strong blasts, with mighty showers 
 
 the floods. 
 All green was varnished, save the pine and yew, 
 That still displayed their melancholy hue, 
 Save the green holly with its berries red. 
 And the green moss that o'er the gravel spread." 
 
 It was the last day of November, and, 
 consequently, the concluding one of the first 
 month of regular hunting, that I was left at 
 home in consequence of indisposition. The 
 huntsman had given me the night before a 
 dose of something which tasted horribly 
 bitter, and I tried to reject taking it; but, 
 from my position between his knees, and his 
 ramming a bullock's horn half down my 
 throat, I was obliged to swallow the nauseous 
 mixture against my will. Between the effects 
 
112 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 of this, and the mortification of being 
 deprived of the pleasure of a day's hunting, 
 my spirits became sadly depressed, and I 
 could do nothing but creep about the court 
 whining, and feeling as miserable a dog as 
 any on four feet. 
 
 The day was very windy, and the light 
 clouds, looking like fleecy wool, scudded 
 before the gale, charged with rain; but 
 with the exception of a few drops which 
 occasionally fell, there was nothing as yet but 
 the threatening of the flooding storm. 
 
 Sighing, moaning, whistling, screaming — 
 now in fitful gusts, then in one solid sweep, 
 mighty nature's breath snaps the tree top and 
 rends up the gnarled roots of a century's 
 growth. On, on, he goes. Bough, branch, 
 twig, and leaf — clinging like affection to the 
 dead — he whirls and scatters in his stormy 
 path, and with mad delight flings destruction 
 in his wake. 0-ho for the wind. Away, 
 o'er heath and waste, and through dark and 
 deep woods, and by lone churchyards, 
 humming through ivy- twined belfries, and 
 jarring rickety casements, shaking old hinges, 
 and ripping up thatched eaves and roofs, he 
 holds his course, like a fiery unchecked steed. 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 113 
 
 0-ho for the wind. Breasting the wave, he 
 drives the surge high, and higher yet. Rolling 
 mountains, topped with white and hissing 
 foam, duck from cresting clouds to the wide 
 chasms below. 0-ho for the wind — death to 
 others is fun to him. A ship ! Boldly she 
 braves his mighty thrust. Again. With one 
 fell swoop, and, quivering, down to the depths 
 she sinks. 0-ho for the wind. 
 
 It was late in the day, and darkness began 
 to drop around before there were any 
 symptoms of my companions' return. At 
 length I heard the welcome clink of the 
 horses' feet along the gravel road leading to 
 the kennel, and shortly afterwards old Mark 
 threw open the door, and in they trotted. 
 
 " Well," said I, as Trimbush entered 
 " what sport? " 
 
 " Oh! " replied he, " none at all. Such a 
 wind as this, ' ' continued he, " is as bad as a 
 blind fog or a hard frost ; for the result is just 
 the same. We can do nothing with a fox 
 while it lasts." 
 
 ** I didn't think of that," rejoined I, "or 
 I should not have been so envious of ye all 
 day." 
 
 * ' Might as well have been at home, ' ' 
 
114 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 returned the old hound, in a grumbling 
 humour. 
 
 " You found? "said I. 
 
 ** Of course we did," he replied. " We 
 never get a blank day. They are too staunch 
 and true preservers in our country for that to 
 take place." 
 
 My companion v^^as now called to take his 
 turn in the warm bath, which Mark had 
 prepared, and after his body and limbs were 
 well laved, he was ordered into the lodging- 
 room, where there was plenty of clean straw 
 to roll in. 
 
 ** There's nothing like this," said Trim- 
 bush, rubbing his back, with all his feet in 
 the air. ** There's nothing like this," 
 repeated he, " after a cold, wretched day. 
 It warms one's blood, prevents rheumatism, 
 and is a real blessed preventative to many 
 disorders. I like my bath as well as my 
 meal." 
 
 " You are no bad judge," replied I, 
 laughing. 
 
 " I should say not," returned he. "I 
 should say that I was anything but a bad 
 judge between what's good for us and what is 
 not." 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 115 
 
 After all had been washed, and each had 
 enjoyed a good tumble among the straw, 
 Mark summoned them to the feeding-room, 
 where a bountiful meal was ready for their 
 sharpened appetites. When this was finished 
 — and it did not occupy many minutes — they 
 were conducted to another lodging-house, so 
 that there might be no damp or chill remain- 
 ing from the wet straw in the one used as the 
 drying apartment. Nothing could be more 
 perfect than all the arrangements made for 
 our health and comfort, and yet, in them- 
 selves, they consisted of little more than a 
 simple method of doing that well, which 
 would have occupied quite as much time and 
 trouble in the end to do badly. 
 
 ** There," remarked Trimbush, with his 
 ribs sticking out as if they were well lined 
 within, " now I feel comfortable, and at 
 peace with all the world." 
 
 Except the foxes in it," replied I. 
 Oh! " rejoined he, ** I have no enmity 
 towards them. It's the combined joy of 
 finding, running, and beating them, and the 
 pleasure of ' ' 
 
 '* Eating them," added I. 
 
 " Well ? " continued he, as if weighing the 
 
 
116 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 sentence, " I suppose we may say that, too; 
 but I am rather doubtful about it." 
 
 " About what? " inquired I. 
 
 *' About the eating part of the business," 
 replied he. " It's true that w^e break up a fox, 
 and swallow him as if we loved his carcase 
 better than any other kind of flesh. But, in 
 my opinion, it is more from the excitement we 
 are worked into than from any desirable 
 flavour he possesses. A fox is too near 
 ourselves for him to be considered proper 
 food for our stomachs. It's approaching 
 particularly close to dog eating dog." 
 
 " But that you did once," said I. 
 
 " Yes," responded Trimbush, carelessly, 
 " I know I did, and might again, under 
 similar circumstances. It only shows," he 
 continued, " what we will do when in a rage 
 or in an excited state. There is nothing with 
 life, from an elephant to a cockroach, but we 
 would have a shy at." 
 
 " Then you don't believe that we really love 
 the varmint as a dainty morsel ? " rejoined I. 
 
 " No," returned he, " I think not. Fancy, 
 for instance, your killing and eating the poor 
 little vixen chained just outside the kennel 
 door." 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 117 
 
 " Ugh ! " said I, disgusted at the thought. 
 
 * * Does not that prove what I say ? ' ' asked 
 my companion. ** We pass her continually in 
 going out and coming in, and yet not one of 
 us ever thinks of making a meal of her. But 
 if the fox was our natural food, we couldn't 
 help doing so, and the first opportunity that 
 presented itself she would be digested 
 victuals. ' ' 
 
 '* But, perhaps, the fear of getting a good 
 drubbing may operate as a check to the 
 inclinations of others," observed I. 
 
 ** If that were the case," replied he, " how 
 is it that the hounds, which occasionally come 
 home by themselves hungry, never make the 
 slightest attempt to injure her? Nothing 
 would be easier than to kill and eat the 
 fox without the smallest risk of being 
 discovered." 
 
 ** There's great force in your argument," I 
 remarked. 
 
 '* I flatter myself that there generally is," 
 returned the egotistical old hound. " Now, 
 look at a cat with a bird," he resumed, " the 
 cases are very different. Whether the bird is 
 wild or not — let it be on the tree or in a cage — 
 she will be equally disposed to make it her 
 
118 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 prey. Birds, like mice, are her natural food ; 
 and she, therefore, takes them without any 
 other motive than to please her palate; but 
 foxes, not being ours, we require the ardour 
 of the chase to make them agreeable to our 
 tastes." 
 
 * ' What do you think would be the effect if 
 we were not allowed to break the fox up ? " 
 inquired I. 
 
 " That we should be just as eager to find, 
 run and pull him down," replied he. ** You 
 hear sometimes of men talking about hounds 
 wanting blood. It's all nonsense. We may 
 want to kill ; but hounds never flag from want 
 of blood. All highly bred dogs like iis love 
 sport, and we hunt for the enjoyment of it; 
 not for our bellies. But men are such selfish 
 beasts, and think so much about eating that 
 they can't give us credit for being more 
 disinterested than themselves. ' ' 
 
 " You are very severe on our masters," 
 rejoined I. 
 
 *' Not more so than they deserve," returned 
 Trimbush. " Not one in a thousand of 'em 
 thinks for himself; but just repeats that 
 which he's told, and so they go on babble, 
 babble, babble, with about as much meaning 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 119 
 
 and sense as a flock of cackling geese. It's a 
 strange thing, too," continued he, " that 
 what they see in one case, forms no precedent 
 or guide to their addlepated brains in another. 
 I don't mean to compare pointers, or setters, 
 or greyhounds with us, of course; but they 
 never get blood, and yet they take as much 
 pleasure in their work, and are as eager to 
 find game, as if every bird shot over them 
 was plucked, roasted, and served up in rich 
 gravy, on silver, for their suppers. Now, it 
 is quite clear that they don't hunt for blood, 
 and, therefore, why should we? It is true 
 that we look for it at the finish from habit, 
 and because we are cheered even to take it, 
 and I never feel wilder than when Tom and 
 Ted are who-whoo^ping over us; but, to say 
 that we absolutely require blood, is all 
 nonsense." 
 
 '* But the more we kill, the greater kill- 
 devils we become," said I. 
 
 ** That's true, " added my companion. ''As 
 in everything else, the supreme gratification 
 lies in securing the object sought to be gained, 
 and the running into our fox is ours. The 
 same rule would apply to our killing but 
 seldom, and consequently being generally 
 
120 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 disappointed, as to pointers and setters 
 having very few birds shot over them. Con- 
 tinued mortification would render all much 
 less ardent for the work, in consequence of the 
 dearth of the great climcue to sport ; not from 
 the covetous, greedy, piggish, grovelling 
 want of the material to lick our chops." 
 
 Finding Trimbush getting warm upon the 
 subject, I thought it better not to provoke the 
 discussion further, and made no reply. The 
 old hound, however, continued to abuse 
 mankind in general, for some minutes, for 
 entertaining such a low estimate of our 
 motives in the chase, and wound up his 
 observations by saying, *' It's not to be 
 wondered at; for true sportsmen are born, 
 like poets — chaps with as much music in their 
 souls as we have in our tongues — ^now and 
 then; but fools come into the world every 
 second." 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 ** For with a sigh, a blast of all his breath, 
 
 That viewless thing, called life, did from him 
 steal." 
 
 We were trotting leisurely to cover, one 
 morning, when I remarked that Trimbush 
 was more serious and silent than usual. 
 ** What are you thinking about? " said I. 
 *' We've got our work cut out to-day," 
 replied he, " and I was just turning a few 
 matters over in my brain, to untie some of the 
 knots and difficulties which always beset us 
 when we draw Berry brake." 
 
 Is that our first draw ? " said I. 
 
 Yes," returned my companion, *' and a 
 
 sure find. For the last four seasons we have 
 
 challenged the same fox, and, as he lives, I 
 
 need not say that he has, hitherto, beaten us." 
 
 "But how?" I asked. "He must be 
 
 ( ( 
 ( ( 
 
122 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 something extraordinary to beat ye four whole 
 seasons. ' ' 
 
 ' * He is, ' ' added Trimbush : ' ' but he must 
 be more than that, even to live till sun-down 
 to-day." 
 
 " Tell me all about him," said I, " and 
 what your plans are; for I see your mind is 
 made up for mischief." 
 
 " Why, in the first place, then, I should tell 
 you," replied my friend, *' that Berry brake 
 IS the strongest cover I ever was in. It cuts 
 our chests and sterns, and makes our heads 
 swell terribly, to get through at any pace. 
 The scent, too, is very good in it, and from 
 having given Old Charley some good dusting, 
 he will not hang a moment now. This, in so 
 far as the strength of the cover is concerned, 
 is all the better for us ; but he is so wary that 
 he bolts at the slightest noise, and has taken 
 to his pads long before Tom has been even able 
 to occupy his station at the upper part of the 
 cover. Whatever his tactics may be, how- 
 ever, he invariably breaks away fresh, and 
 with a good start, and being as strong a fox 
 as ever stood before hounds, he has manage<^ 
 to outrun and beat us up to this time." 
 
 ** Is he a big one? " I inquired. 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 123 
 
 '' I have viewed many a one in my day," 
 replied Trimbush ; ' ' but never did I put eyes 
 upon such a v^olf-like looking animal. He's 
 as black as thunder, and as long as a rope- 
 walk. You can't mistake the devil's own, as 
 Will Sykes christened him, if you chance to 
 view him; but we have not done so for the 
 last six times of hunting him. ' ' 
 
 ** View or no view," rejoined I, ** we'll 
 stick to him." 
 
 " For a month, if we can but hunt, yard by 
 yard, inch by inch," said the old hound, with 
 fixed determination expressed in his proudly 
 erected head and lashing stern. 
 
 " You've got some manoeuvre or artful 
 dodge in store for him, I know," I remarked. 
 
 " I have," responded my companion, " and 
 you shall not only hear what it is, but shall 
 join in the scheme. As I told you a short 
 time since, most foxes hang in cover as long 
 as they dare or can. It is their nature to 
 screen themselves as much as possible, and 
 they face the open only when compelled and 
 pressed. A fox that has been often hunted, 
 however, is of course more shy than one who 
 has not, and the devil's own, having 
 invariably met with a precious rattling when- 
 
124 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 ever he attempted to thread the covers, never 
 bangs fire now, but sv^^eeps straight through 
 them. In order to be on good terms with him, 
 therefore, we must act in the same manner, 
 and to lose no precious second of time, 
 remember, that the moment we reach a cover, 
 the chances are a hundred to one that he is 
 already through. If not, we shall instantly 
 know that the pull is in our favour by his 
 hanging, for, if it was not for the general 
 lule of foxes hanging in covers, they would 
 serve us, in nineteen cases out of twenty, as 
 the devil's own does, and run us clean out of 
 all scent." 
 
 " Being so crafty," returned I, " I'm 
 surprised that they don't depend more upon 
 that which would save them, their sfeed.'' 
 
 " The reason is this," added Trimbush. 
 "Although much faster than we are, and 
 with power of equal endurance, they cannot 
 bear the heat of the day as well as we can. 
 It should be recollected also, that we have 
 rested the night before, and commence our 
 work with empty bellies in the morning ; but 
 the fox has been on the pad foraging for food 
 when we were asleep, and, perhaps, is gorged 
 at the moment we unkennel him. He, there- 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 125 
 
 fore, feels himself in no condition for racing, 
 and tries all his cunning to elude us in 
 preference to facing the open. I don't 
 know," continued he, *' how the devil's own 
 regulates his meals; but I fancy he must sup 
 early, and go to bed long before cock-crow." 
 
 At this moment Will Sykes glanced round, 
 and hallooed, " Give them more room, Ned, 
 and let them empty themselves." 
 
 "Ay, ay," replied Ned, checking his horse 
 to leave greater space between himself and the 
 huntsman. 
 
 " That's right," observed Trimbush. 
 ** There should always be plenty of room 
 between the second whip and the huntsman, 
 so that we may not be hurried when we want 
 to stop." 
 
 ** Then you intend," said I, resuming the 
 subject, '* then you intend " 
 
 "To fly straight to the farthest end, or 
 opposite side of every cover he points for," 
 interrupted he, " and especially the moment 
 we are thrown into Berry brake, in order to 
 be on good terms with him at the burst. It's 
 our only chance," continued the old hound, 
 * * and if he beats us to-day, with the ground 
 in the order that it is, and this mild velvety 
 
126 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 wind, hang me if I shall have any hope of 
 breaking up the devil's own." 
 
 " Have you made known your plan tx) any 
 of the others? " I inquired. 
 
 " Yes," replied my companion, " two 
 couple and a half of the right sort stand in 
 with us, and it will go hard but we'll give a 
 better account of him than he has met with 
 
 yet." 
 
 We had not to travel far to the meet, and 
 soon after Trimbush ceased speaking we came 
 in sight of it. The Squire had just trotted 
 up on his hack, and was dismounting at the 
 moment of our arrival. 
 
 "Well!" said he, addressing Will 
 Sykes, *' is the devil's own to beat us again 
 to-day ? ' ' 
 
 *' He may, sir," replied the huntsman, 
 giving a cursory glance at us, as if to direct 
 his master's attention to the draft; " but if 
 he does, I shall think Tom's suspicions are 
 right." 
 
 " And what are they? " asked the Squire. 
 
 ** That he bears a charmed life," replied 
 Will, '* and no hounds ever bred could run 
 into him." 
 
 Our master laughed heartily at this, and 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 127 
 
 said, " We must try to break the charm." 
 
 I felt all on fire as the cover appeared, and 
 could scarcely refrain from dashing after 
 Tom when he trotted off to take his station. 
 Trimbush, seeing my impatience, said, 
 " Gently, my lad, gently. There's nothing 
 like spirit; but wait for orders, and never 
 yield to the impulse of committing a breach 
 of discipline." 
 
 Notwithstanding this reasoning, however, I 
 could see that he had enough to do to keep a 
 check upon his own inclination to break away. 
 But our impatience was not kept long upon 
 the stretch. Will was as anxious to begin as 
 we were, and no sooner had the whips taken 
 their places than he threw us into cover, but 
 without the slightest noise being made. There 
 was not so much even as the crack of a thong. 
 
 " That's right," said Trimbush, going 
 like a bullet through the furze, " although I 
 should not wonder but he's gone." 
 
 The hounds, instructed by Trimbush, and 
 agreeing to adopt his proceedings, were 
 Dashwood, Hector, Loyalty, Wildboy, and 
 Rubicon, all old friends of his. We went 
 together in a body full swing, more as if we 
 were flying to a view halloo than drawing a 
 
128 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 cover, and just when about the thick of it, a 
 whimper from Chancellor announced that the 
 devil's own was afoot. 
 
 " Tally-ho! " now rung from Tom Holt's 
 throat. 
 
 " Shoot to the right," said Trimbush, lead- 
 ing, and in a few strides we were outside the 
 thick, almost impenetrable gorse. 
 
 " Tally-ho, tally-ho !" again hallooed Tom. 
 
 " Come along," said the old hound, " we 
 are close to his brush this time at any rate." 
 
 Racing to where the whipper-in stood with 
 his cap in the air, we picked up the scent and 
 found it sweeter than fresh-pulled flowers. 
 
 Settling to him, and with a bunch of our 
 companions, who likewise made play to the 
 halloo as we did, away we rattled at the pace 
 which only a burning scent and hounds 
 bristling for a kill can show. 
 
 For an hour-and-a-half we burst him along, 
 and not one fox in a thousand could have 
 stood before us for such a time and over such 
 a country, in which there was not so much as 
 a spinny to hide him; but he kept on at just 
 the same rate, and a halloo, every now and 
 then, told us that he was only just a-head. 
 Several of us were tailed off, and some never 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 129 
 
 reached the main body at all. The burst was 
 so quick, that the field, too, couldn't get well 
 away with us, and the consequence was that 
 nearly all the horses were run to a standstill 
 before getting their second wind. 
 
 " I begin to think," said Trimbush, still 
 the leader of the chosen few, *' that his point's 
 Gretwith rock, and if so, there's not a bush to 
 hold him for fifteen miles as straight as the 
 crow flies." 
 
 " He can't last the distance," replied 
 Rubicon. " We shall run him from scent to 
 view in less than another mile." 
 
 " So I think," rejoined Wildboy. *' His 
 red rag's hanging from his jaws worse than 
 mine, I know, and that feels like dried 
 chalk." 
 
 ** We shall come to soil presently," 
 returned Loyalty. " There's the Loam stream 
 not far a-head." 
 
 '* Egad! " added Dashwood, *' but I wish 
 it was in my next stride. I'm blistered with 
 thirst." 
 
 " I shouldn't be surprised," said Trim- 
 bush, " to find him try an artful move at the 
 Loam. Be careful, my hearts, and don't 
 flash forward on the opposite bank. Feel for 
 
130 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 it as you go, and make good inch by inch, 
 rather than be in doubt. We shall save time 
 by the trouble." 
 
 Thus schooled, we took especial care, upon 
 refreshing ourselves in the Loam, to follow 
 the instructions given, and our first cast was 
 along the verge down stream, which, also, 
 chanced to be down wind. 
 
 '* This is his line," said Trimbush, 
 evidently puzzled, " and yet " 
 
 ** Let us try up wind," interrupted Dash- 
 wood, *' he may have headed, as he's a sinking 
 one." 
 
 " You flatter yourself," returned the old 
 hound; ** he has as much life in him as will 
 serve to test your pluck and powers for an 
 hour to come." 
 
 ' ' But he may have headed back, ' ' observed 
 Wildboy. 
 
 He may,'' quietly added Trimbush; 
 
 but make your work good as ye go. I 
 think," continued he, " that we have cast to 
 the right, which was the probable line, far 
 enough. Now let us try the left." 
 
 Will Sykes, Ned Adams, and the Squire, 
 now came in sight ; but their horses could not 
 be spurred out of a trot. Their heads were 
 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 131 
 
 between their knees, and their tails shook as 
 if they must drop off. 
 
 " How beautifully they work," I heard the 
 Squire say as he threw himself from the 
 saddle. " Let them alone; pray let them 
 alone." 
 
 We had now made the cast as far to the 
 left as we had done to the right, and yet we 
 could not hit him off. 
 
 "I'm sure he's headed back," said Wild- 
 boy, confidently. 
 
 "We'll try," replied Trimbush; "but I 
 doubt it." 
 
 " It's now quite clear," said the Squire, 
 as we failed to touch the scent in our track, 
 " that the hounds can make nothing of it. 
 They have had a fair trial; now let me see 
 what you can do, William." 
 
 Will threw his strong, keen eye forward, 
 and his ears were pricked for any halloo or 
 indication of the line of the fox ; but nothing 
 appeared to enlighten him. He then out with 
 his horn, and was about making a wider and 
 more forward cast than we had made down 
 wind, when Trimbush sprang into the stream, 
 and swam to a small patch of sedge and grass, 
 not a great deal bigger than a man's hat, and 
 
132 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 apparently scarcely large enough tx) hold a 
 rat, when bang the fox sprang from the 
 middle and away he raced, whisking the 
 water from his brush like a maid trundling 
 her mop. We rushed at him in a body, but 
 might as well have attempted to get to the 
 head of a stroke of soaped lightning. 
 
 "A trick worthy of the devil's own," said 
 Trimbush, laughing, '* but I proved a match 
 for him this time." 
 
 " How was it that we could not carry the 
 scent down stream? " inquired I, as the 
 devil's own became lost to view over the brow 
 of a short but steep hill. 
 
 ** Because," replied my companion, " he 
 reached the water some seconds before our- 
 selves, and swimming so far down the stream, 
 he gained the little bank of mud, where he 
 squatted, with all the scent washed away from 
 him. We could, therefore, carry it no 
 further than where he took water, and as he 
 did not break from it, the reason is obvious 
 for our being unable to act otherwise than we 
 did." 
 
 " I can't think how you came to suspect 
 that he had laid up there," remarked I. 
 
 ** I never knew a fox to do so before," 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 133 
 
 leturned the old hound. " Soil is about the 
 only dodge a stag has to try his cunning at; 
 but a fox rarely hangs in or about water. I, 
 however," continued he, " was prepared for 
 any trick with the devil's own, and my 
 anticipation of a deep one proved correct." 
 
 We now came to a more enclosed country, 
 and the fences greatly added to our momen- 
 tarily increasing distress. The hounds 
 dropped off one by one, and some, attempting 
 to jump the steep and wide ditches, fell into 
 them, and there laid, not having strength 
 enough to crawl out again. 
 
 It was fearful work, and how I managed to 
 stagger forward is a mystery to me to this 
 day. Trimbush did his best to cheer us on, 
 and continually reminded us " that a kill was 
 certain if we only stuck to him a little 
 longer.'' But this " little longer " appeared 
 to be a very indefinite period. 
 
 The winter day was waning fast. Objects 
 at a short distance began to loom through the 
 thickening shades, and the sun's last rays had 
 ' scarcely left a faint tinge of his glory in the 
 west. Still the chase went on. There was no 
 check, let, or stop. On, on, we flew : the 
 pursuing and pursued. 
 
134 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 " He dies, by the Lord ! " cried Trimbush, 
 in perfect ecstacy, as we flashed a few yards 
 over the scent, and then, turning, hit it off 
 short to the right. " He dies, he dies! " 
 cried he, throwing up his head, and waking a 
 loud echo from his deep-toned tongue. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " inquired I, reeling 
 with weakness, and certain that my remaining 
 strength was all but spent. 
 
 *' His point was Gretwith rock, as I 
 thought long since," replied the old hound; 
 " but he can't live the distance. He has now 
 turned short to run up wind, which proves 
 him to be a sinking one, and if he reaches 
 Quaffam wood it is as much as he can do. ' ' 
 
 Seeing that Trimbush was serious, this 
 sage opinion lent fresh aid to our flagging 
 energies, and the skeleton of his force, com- 
 prising only Dash wood, Wildboy, and myself, 
 answered his cheer by redoubling our efforts to 
 run into the devil's own. 
 
 The wood which Trimbush spoke of now 
 appeared at the bottom of a deep valley, and 
 into the underbush we dashed, confident that 
 the fox must hang, and also in the hope that 
 he would not live to leave it. I had no sooner, 
 however, entered the cover than, losing the 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 135 
 
 cool refreshing wind at my nostrils, I fell 
 to the ground, faint and breathless; but 
 every effort proved fruitless ; and crouching 
 behind the trunk of a large tree, I was 
 obliged to remain stationary sorely against 
 my wiU. 
 
 For a few minutes I heard my companions 
 driving the devil's own to the furthest end of 
 the cover from where I laid, and then, as their 
 cry approached, I knew they had headed him 
 towards me. Putting my head close to the 
 ground, I saw the fox creeping along with his 
 back up, scarcely able to crawl. His tongue 
 was drooping from his jaws, and his brush 
 dragged along as if there was not strength 
 enough in him even to lift that. Every now 
 and then he stopped and turned his head, 
 and, not perceiving me, continued to near the 
 spot where I laid. Close and closer he came, 
 and, at length, coming within springing 
 distance, I made an effort which surprised 
 myself, and fastened my teeth right across the 
 middle of his loins before he had a chance of 
 knowing from what quarter he was attacked. 
 Catching me by the ear, however, he gave me 
 a dying grip which made me remember the 
 length of his teeth and the strength of his 
 
136 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 jaws for some time to (X)me, and he had not 
 unlocked them, before Trimbush, Dash wood, 
 and Loyalty came to my assistance, and 
 quickly put an end to the struggle. 
 
 '* We'll break him up presently," gasped 
 Trimbush. " Let's get a sob or two of wind 
 first, ' ' and forming a circle round the lifeless 
 carcase of the devil's own, we lay stretched 
 upon the ground, panting and beaten to a 
 crawl. 
 
 At this moment something crashing through 
 the brushwood was heard, and soon after- 
 wards a labouring man came running up, and 
 seizing the fox, lifted him above his head, and 
 " who-whooped " most lustily. He then 
 drew a great clasped knife from a sheath, and 
 cut off the head, brush, and pads of the devil's 
 own. 
 
 ' ' Ah ! ' ' said he, "I heard ye, and thought 
 there was something up more than common. 
 I can guess all about it. You've beaten every 
 one o' the field, and tailed off all the rest o' 
 the pack." 
 
 ** You're right enough, old fellow," 
 observed Trimbush, " and I wish you could 
 understand me as well as I can you. But what 
 the deuce are ye about with the fox ? ' ' 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 137 
 
 The astonishment of Trimbush was caused 
 by seeing the man deliberately proceeding to 
 skin the fox, as he might the body of a dead 
 cat or rabbit. 
 
 " ITl soon whip off your jacket," said the 
 man, " and then they can eat ye nice and 
 comfortably. Such a skin as this, " continued 
 he, " must be terribly tough, I know." 
 
 ' ' What a considerate Christian ! ' ' 
 exclaimed Loyalty. ** Old Mark could 
 scarcely be more thoughtful. ' ' 
 
 * * Besides, ' ' resumed the labourer, finishing 
 his job, " such a skin as this is worth half-a- 
 crown, and it had much better go into my 
 pocket than down your bellies." 
 
 ** Ho, ho! " ejaculated Trimbush. 
 " That's the secret of your attention, is it ? " 
 
 " Who- whoop ! " hallooed the man. 
 " Who- whoop ! " and throwing the dismem- 
 bered carcase to us, we tore it into pieces and 
 demolished, with more than ordinary relish, 
 the devil's own. 
 
 * ' Now, what am I to do with ye ? " 
 observed the rustic, scratching the back part 
 of his head. 
 
 " Take us to the nearest best quarters," 
 said Trimbush; '* give us a good supper, 
 
138 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 plenty of straw, and lead us home in the 
 morning." 
 
 '* It's a long distance," soliloquized the 
 man; ** but I shall get well paid for my 
 trouble, I know. It can't be done to-night, 
 howsomever; and so I'll get farmer Oatfield 
 to give grub and lodgings, and journey home 
 with ye to-morrow myself." 
 
 " A capital move," said Trimbush, " and 
 a sentiment after my own heart. Come 
 along." 
 
 Most willingly we followed our conductor 
 from the cover, and after proceeding about a 
 mile, we came to one of those nests of 
 comforts, a good farm-house. As we entered 
 the yard, two rough and shaggy shepherd's 
 dogs ran barking towards us ; but upon coming 
 closer, they wagged their short stumpy tails 
 by way of a welcome, and soon afterwards we 
 had a famous supper of warm milk and meal, 
 supplied to us by the hospitable Mr. Oatfield, 
 who heard with infinite glee the rustic's 
 account of the way in which he discovered us ; 
 and then, by his orders, some bundles of fresh 
 straw were shaken out, upon which we 
 stretched ourselves, with that pleasure which 
 only the wearied feel. 
 
CHAPTER XI, 
 
 ** The gorse is yellow on the heath, 
 
 The banks with speed-well flowers are gay, 
 The oaks are budding, and beneath 
 The hawthorn soon will bear the wreath. 
 The silver wreath of May." 
 
 " I HATE to see those violets a-peeping on 
 the banks," said old Mark to the huntsman, 
 one morning, " and always did." 
 
 "Why so? " asked Will. 
 
 * ' Because they are a sure sign that hunting 
 is drawing to a close," replied our feeder. 
 
 " Yes, yes," rejoined Will Sykes. " True 
 enough. When the speed-well flowers begin 
 to show," continued he, " we may be certain 
 that the season's almost at an end." 
 
 " Shall we kill a May fox? " inquired 
 
 K 
 
140 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 Mark, for he always coupled the we in all 
 relating to us and our doings. 
 
 '' No," replied Will. '* The season's too 
 forward, and the Squire said yesterday he 
 would only hunt twice more." 
 
 " That's bad news," observed Trimbush. 
 " However," said he, " the noses on the 
 kennel-door show that we have given a good 
 account of our foxes." 
 
 " The devil's own is not there," replied I. 
 ' •■ How is that ? ' ' 
 
 " No," rejoined the old hound. '* His 
 head was sent to be mounted as a cup, I heard 
 Tom tell Ned Adams, and it is always to be 
 placed in the middle of the table at the hunt- 
 dinner." 
 
 "I'm glad of that," returned I. 
 
 " No doubt you are," added Trimbush, 
 * ' and so am I. It will be a lasting record of a 
 run that, if equalled, was never beaten." 
 
 ** What was the time, do you suppose? " 
 inquired I. 
 
 " Not a minute less than five hours," 
 responded my companion. 
 
 ** How proud the Squire and all of them 
 were upon our return ! " said I. 
 
 " Yes," rejoined the old hound. " I 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 141 
 
 thought we should be killed by that which 
 seldom forms the ground of coroners' inquests 
 • — excessive kindness. ' ' 
 
 ** Well! " exclaimed I, " since we have 
 but two days remaining, we must endeavour 
 to wind up the season with a good finish." 
 
 "To be sure," returned Trimbush; " a 
 brace more of noses must be added to the 
 account, at least." 
 
 " How tired I shall be of kennel life 
 throughout the long, hot summer," said I, 
 with a whine at the thought. 
 
 "It is rather monotonous, I must say," 
 replied my companion. 
 
 " And then to be continually shut up," 
 rejoined I. 
 
 '• Oh ! but you'll not be," added he. " We 
 are taken out always at daybreak, when the 
 air and ground are nice and cool, and have a 
 gentle trot for some eight or ten miles. Then 
 a certain number, from three to four couple, 
 are allowed, in turns, to remain at large all 
 day about the kennel, or where we like, so 
 -long as we don't get into mischief." 
 
 " That's very kind and considerate," said 
 I, " and contributes greatly to our happi- 
 ness. ' ' 
 
142 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 "And health, you might have added," con- 
 tinued Trimbush. " Nothing is so bad as 
 close confinement for us, and, indeed, for all 
 kinds of sporting dogs. The more liberty we 
 have, the better for our condition, spirit, and 
 general good. Trencher-fed hounds," said 
 he, " are remarkable for the superiority they 
 possess over their kennelled brethren, and the 
 only cause is from the freedom they enjoy." 
 
 " What a pity it is," said I, *' that we 
 can't make our rulers comprehend us as well 
 as we understand them." 
 
 " Their heads are so thick," replied Trim- 
 bush, contemptuously. "A great many are 
 solid, like stones, all the way through, I'm 
 sure." 
 
 " Some act as if they were," rejoined I. 
 
 "Act? " sneered the old hound. " Upon 
 my soul I can't think what nineteen out of 
 twenty were born for. Certainly not for 
 fox-hunting; that's quite evident." 
 
 " It's a good thing," I remarked, " that 
 our master is not one of the stone-heads." 
 
 ' * Yes, ' ' returned he, ' ' we are fortunate in 
 that respect, and in most others. Will and 
 Mark are as famous hound servants as ever 
 entered a kennel, and, as a good huntsman 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 143 
 
 makes good hounds, so does a good master 
 make good servants. ' ' 
 
 " There's a wonderful deal in the manage- 
 ment," I observed. 
 
 '* Everything," replied Trimbush. "And, 
 unless a master of foxhounds is a thorough- 
 going sportsman, and is acquainted with 
 all the apparently trifling details of his 
 establishment, you may depend upon it that 
 he's very much out of his place." 
 
 ** Your information concerning our liberty 
 during the summer months," said I, " has 
 reconciled me somewhat to the mortification 
 of closing the season." 
 
 * ' We need not examine farther, ' ' resumed 
 Trimbush, " than the effect produced upon 
 birds, when caged, to learn the advantages of 
 freedom. The plumage of a wild bird is close, 
 smooth, and bright ; while that of one in close 
 confinement is dull and rough. There is 
 strength and energy in the one, too, which is 
 never seen in the other." 
 
 " The feather often shows which way the 
 wind blows," remarked I. 
 
 "As well as the national banner of Eng- 
 land floating in the breeze, ' ' returned the old 
 hound. 
 
( ( 
 
 144 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 " I have heard," I remarked, after a 
 pause,, " with the greatest pleasure, all that 
 you have said regarding us, and I do not 
 think anything has been advanced without 
 sufficient reason being given. But what 
 would you say may be deemed a general rule 
 for a huntsman to observe ? ' 
 
 " In the field ? " asked Trimbush. 
 Yes," replied I. 
 
 Study the wind," returned he, " let 
 hounds alone, and keep his eyes on the line- 
 hunters. On these important points," he 
 continued, " depends all the success in 
 hunting. But when I say let hounds alone, 
 I mean that they are to stand still just long 
 enough for them to be sure that the scent is not 
 at the point they are trying. We then go 
 cheerfully to try another ; but there is nothing 
 so prejudicial as an imperfect, hasty cast." 
 
 ' ' Nothing can be more obvious, ' ' I replied ; 
 " and I wish, vdth all my heart, that such a 
 golden rule could be indelibly carved in the 
 memory of every one whom fate may decree 
 to blow a horn to hounds." 
 
 "Ay," rejoined Trimbush, " if abided by, 
 there would be but little cause for grumbling 
 about want of sport. We can generally do 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 145 
 
 far better without assistance than with it, and 
 the more we receive, the more helpless and 
 artificial we become. I believe I told ye so a 
 short time since, and it is the case, not only 
 with us, but with everybody, two-footed and 
 four, to look for support from those resources, 
 which, through times of difficulties, save 
 labour and exertion, rather than put our own 
 shoulders to the collar. This is but natural, 
 and the blame rests more with those who are 
 unwise enough to forget that we all have our 
 duty to perform, and in doing that of others 
 they commit as great an error as in neglecting 
 their own; because, if not idle themselves, 
 they are the positive cause of neglect and 
 idleness in their fellows." 
 
 " Upon my honour," returned I, " you 
 talk like a philosopher." 
 
 * * Then a philosopher speaks but the simple 
 truth," added my companion, " in very 
 simple language." 
 
 " You never hear," said I, diving again 
 more particularly into our subject, " of men 
 admitting that they had anything to do with 
 losing a fox, although they invariably claim a 
 large share in the honour of killing him." 
 
 * ' You have noticed that, have you ? ' ' 
 
146 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 responded the old hound, laughing. " No; it 
 IS always they lost him, but we killed him. 
 Ha, ha, ha ! " 
 
 " It ought to be just reversed," rejoined I. 
 
 * * There would be much greater truth in the 
 assertion, when generally applied, ' ' returned 
 Trimbush. "A fox is frequently lost through 
 them, and rare, indeed, is the occurrence when 
 any act on their part may be regarded as one 
 of assistance in killing him. ' ' 
 
 "I begin to have a great contempt for the 
 Ignorance of human beings," observed I. 
 
 "All of us do at the end of our first 
 season," replied my friend. " We discover, 
 by that time, what a set of know-nothings 
 men are, and, if worthy to be retained in the 
 pack, take no notice whatever of their cheers 
 or rates; but merely avoid their horses' feet, 
 and get away from them as far and as fast as 
 we can." 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 ** When early primroses appear, 
 And vales are decked with daffodils, 
 I hail the new reviving year, 
 And soothing hope my bosom fills. 
 The lambkin bleating on the plain, 
 The swallow seen with gladdened eye, 
 The welcome cuckoo's merry strain, 
 Proclaim the joyful summer nigh." 
 
 It was the second week in April, and the 
 last day of the season, that we jogged slowly 
 along the road to the meet. The season had 
 been unusually forward, and the air was 
 fragrant with the early violets and primroses, 
 decking the roadside banks. There was a 
 haze rolling along the valleys, and the boughs 
 and branches of the trees, now unfolding their 
 luxuriant and freshest green, were glittering 
 with myriads of dew-drops, flashing in the 
 light of the young spring morn. 
 
 Punctuality being the standing order with 
 
148 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 our Squire, Will often consulted his watch to 
 regulate our pace, so that we should be at the 
 fixture exactly at the time named ; and as we 
 approached Duvale village, the church clock 
 was striking the hour of ten. Turning on to 
 a patch of green, where a few geese and a 
 lonely dejected-looking donkey cropped the 
 meagre herbage, and a host of round-faced 
 chubby children played, and madly screamed 
 with joy to see us arrive, we formed a group 
 around Will's horse in eager expectation of 
 the Squire's coming. The hum of the last 
 stroke had scarcely ceased, when the sharp 
 pit-a-pat of a horse's feet was heard, and 
 immediately afterwards the Squire came 
 cantering up, accompanied by three or four 
 of his friends. 
 
 I was glad to see that the field comprised 
 those only who hunted regularly with us, and, 
 although many of them were generally too 
 anxious to get forward, and thought of little 
 more than showing well in the first flight, yet 
 there was no fear of much unsportsman-like 
 conduct on their part. 
 
 Without the loss of a minute we trotted off 
 to our first draw, a long and narrow belt of 
 fir trees, with thick brushwood at the bottom. 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 149 
 
 which proved a blank. We then drew a line 
 of small spinnies, and in one of them, at the 
 furthest end up wind, I saw two or three old 
 hounds flourish their sterns at one spot, and 
 before I could reach it, a first-seasoned one, 
 like myself, called Boaster, threw his tongue. 
 
 " Gently, Boaster," hallooed Will, giving 
 an admonitory crack of the whip. " Gently, 
 Boaster." 
 
 Upon pushing my nose among the group, I 
 inhaled a slight scent of the animal; but it 
 was very faint. 
 
 ** It's a stale drag,' said Trimbush, " and 
 he may be twenty miles away by this time. 
 Who opened on it? " asked he. 
 
 " Boaster," replied I, fearing that he 
 might think me guilty of the puppy-like 
 deed. 
 
 ** Then I tell you this, youngster," re- 
 joined the old hound, *' if you're so free with 
 your tongue, you'll have reason to wish, some 
 day, that it had been cut out at your birth." 
 
 " But it was the right scent," expostulated 
 Boaster ; ' ' and how could I tell if it was stale 
 or not? " 
 
 '* Then your nose is not worth a damn," 
 returned Trimbush, passionately. "At any 
 
150 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 rate, ' ' continued he, ' ' you might have a little 
 decent modesty, and not take precedency of 
 
 Trimbush placed a very strong emphasis 
 upon the " us," and Boaster, ashamed and 
 abashed, drooped his stern, and, for the 
 remainder of the day, did not again attempt 
 playing first fiddle. 
 
 We w^ere now taken about two miles, and 
 thrown into a large rambling cover, composed 
 of patches of gorse, bramble, and nutwood. 
 
 " I saw some fresh billets just now, sir," 
 said Ned Adams to the Squire. 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 " Just under that ash, and on the edge of 
 the gap, sir," replied the second whip. 
 
 ** Very well," rejoined his master. 
 
 I was close to Dashwood and Trimbush, 
 when both stopped suddenly, and simul- 
 taneously throwing up their heads, both gave 
 long bell-like notes, which rung and echoed 
 far and near. 
 
 " Hark to Trimbush! " cried Will Sykes; 
 '* hark to Dashwood, hark, hark ! " and then, 
 as I and others picked up the grateful scent, 
 and threw our tongues cheerfully, he hallooed, 
 " Hark together, hark! " 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 151 
 
 Now we closed; now we went full swing. 
 Up went Tom Holt's cap. 
 
 " It's a vixen, sir," I heard him say. 
 
 " Stop them, then," replied our master, 
 " and let her go. We can't spare a bitch fox 
 now." 
 
 Out we crashed; but Tom charged at our 
 heads, cracking his awful double thong, and 
 being well mounted, the most daring of us 
 knew that it was hopeless to endeavour to get 
 away with her. Boaster was the only one who 
 made a lame attempt, and he instantly got a 
 cut across the loins, which sent him flying 
 back into cover howling most piteously. 
 
 " It's a hard case," said Trimbush, 
 doggedly, "to be whipped off in this 
 fashion, and I don't think it's fair. When 
 too late to kill vixens," continued he, 
 with little apparent inclination to draw the 
 cover again, " why not give up hunting 
 altogether? " 
 
 " You would be the last to carry out that 
 principle, I'm sure," observed Rubicon. 
 
 " I don't know that," rejoined the old 
 hound. " It's very tantalizing and dispirit- 
 ing to be stopped the moment a fox, which we 
 have taken the trouble and pains to find, 
 
152 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 breaks away. We meet with enough 
 disappointments which can't be avoided, 
 throughout a season, without having such as 
 these thrust upon us." 
 
 * ' But we are continually so stopped in cub- 
 hunting," returned Rubicon. 
 
 " That's quite a different matter," said 
 Trimbush. " There are then two or three 
 brace of 'em afoot, perhaps, and they get 
 headed back as well as ourselves. We can 
 always reckon, too, upon plenty of sport at 
 that time; but at the end of a season, when 
 foxes are thin, it ' ' 
 
 At this moment I winded the glorious scent 
 again, and, throwing my tongue, bang a great 
 dark-coloured fox went across a ride. Trim- 
 bush cut short his harangue, and, forgetting 
 the cause of his anger, flew to my side, and 
 away we rattled. 
 
 *' Have at him ! " hallooed Will. " Have 
 at him, darlings ! Yoiks, have at him ! ' ' 
 
 Up went Tom Holt's cap again. 
 
 "All right, sir," I heard him say. **As 
 fine a dog-fox as ever was seen." 
 
 Through the furze we dashed, and out 
 burst more than two-thirds of us close to his 
 brush. 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 153 
 
 Twang, twang, twang, twang, went Will's 
 horn. 
 
 " For'ard, for'ard !" hallooed Ned Adams : 
 " get to him hounds, get to himl For'ard! 
 for'ard! " 
 
 For fifteen minutes we flew along at our 
 best pace, over a country, without even a bush 
 strong enough to hold him. The scent being 
 breast high, we cut out some of the sharpest 
 work for the best and boldest to ride to us. 
 
 " His point's the main earth at the Curby 
 brake," said Trimbush; " but old ' fox-fix ' 
 has been there with his spade and pickaxe, 
 I'll be bound." 
 
 The cover spoken of by my companion was 
 quickly gained, and on the slope of a steep 
 bank, thickly twined with the stubborn roots 
 of some neighbouring oaks, we ran straight 
 to the mouth of a closed earth. 
 
 '' Ha, ha! " laughed Trimbush, " I said 
 so. If he had poked his nose underground 
 here, they might have dug for a week to no 
 purpose." 
 
 We now carried it through the brake, and, 
 sinking some rising ground, entered Bushford 
 Woodlands. Here the small enclosures and 
 thick fences began to tell both upon us and the 
 
154 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 field, and instead of carrying a head in one 
 close and compact body, many began to tail 
 and string in the rear. As near as I can guess 
 we had ran ten miles from the find without 
 the check of a moment, when we threw up at 
 a gate leading into a road. We flew over it, 
 and saw an old woman with a red cloak on, 
 screaming most lustily; but whether from 
 fright or joy I could not discover. 
 
 To the left we went, but not making it out, 
 turned short to the right, when Will blowing 
 a " come-to-me," off we swept to the 
 summons. 
 
 " I saw it, sir," I heard the woman 
 shriek; " I saw it, sir, as plain as the nose on 
 your face, jump over the gate and then jump 
 back again. And it's put me all in such a 
 twitter that " 
 
 A twang, twang, from the horn, drowned 
 the conclusion of the old woman's delivery, 
 and, trying back, we were quickly on his line 
 again, and making play at topping speed. 
 
 "I thought," observed Trimbush, " that 
 the old woman had headed him; but it doesn't 
 do for us to try back until we have made our 
 oasts good, right and left. It is quite correct 
 for a huntsman to do so if he learns from any 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 155 
 
 cause that the fox has been headed; but 
 we should not speculate upon chances or 
 accidents. ' ' 
 
 We now carried it over some deep fallows, 
 and, being very dry and flying, we had to 
 pick through with great care. It was 
 remarkable to see the difference between the 
 old steady hounds and the young and eager 
 ones in these difficulties. With their noses on 
 the ground, the pilots of the pack felt for the 
 scent, here and there and held it forward with 
 patience and perseverance, while the too 
 ardent and flashy ones dashed in all 
 directions, with as much notion of the line of 
 the fox, as that of the rook flying over their 
 heads. After picking through the ploughs we 
 were enabled to up with our heads again, 
 cluster, and go full swing over some small 
 grass fields to a village road, where unfortu- 
 nately, some dung had been recently carted, 
 and the horrid smell made me feel ready to 
 vomit. Trimbush felt along the road a con- 
 siderable distance, as it was down wind, 
 before he was satisfied that this was not his 
 line, and then turning up, made about as wide 
 a cast, but to no purpose. 
 
 ' I wonder, " said the old hound, both vexed 
 
 L 
 
156 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 and puzzled, *' if he has been headed back? " 
 
 Rubicx>n, who must have had a remarkably 
 strong stomach, now jumped upon the steam- 
 ing, reeking, stinking heap, and, plunging 
 his nose under a loose portion at the top, drew 
 out the fox by a hind leg. In an instant we 
 flew to his assistance, and for the first and 
 last time in my life, I helped to kill a fox on 
 a dung heap. 
 
 ** Well ! " said our master, wiping his bald 
 head, and looking as pleased as at any period 
 that I ever saw him, * ' we wind up the season 
 with a glorious finish. We were too far 
 behind to see," he continued; '' but of course 
 they must have viewed him into the manure." 
 
 "No doubt, sir," replied Will, "or he 
 would most likely have beaten us." 
 
 *' It only shows," rejoined the Squire, " to 
 what improbable shifts a sinking fox will have 
 resort. How often men's brains are racked to 
 discover the why and wherefore that a fox 
 could have beaten their judgment and experi- 
 ence, when, perhaps, he may be close to their 
 elbows without the smallest blame to be 
 attached to either hounds or them for his 
 
 ) » 
 
 escape. 
 
 " Or merit to his craft and cunning, you 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 157 
 
 might have added," said Trimbush. " For 
 when a fox sinks, not only his physical 
 strength is expended, but his mental powers 
 die with it. He is in such a mortal fright, 
 that he cannot think; but like a blown chicken, 
 pokes his head into the first hiding place 
 which presents itself." 
 
 As we were trotting quietly homewards, 
 as proud as peacocks, I saw Trimbush tip 
 Rubicon over the nose with his stern, and drew 
 him from the body on one side of the road. 
 
 " Be candid," said he, in a half whisper. 
 *' How was it that you made the fox out in 
 that beastly manure ? ' ' 
 
 " I winded him," rejoined Rubicon, with 
 a sly grin. 
 
 " Pshaw! " replied the old hound. " It 
 was impossible." 
 
 " Well, well! " interrupted Rubicon, " I 
 admit it. The fact is I jumped on the heap 
 for a very different purpose, and as I did so, 
 I felt something move under my feet. A 
 thought struck me ' ' 
 
 "As it did me," interrupted Trimbush, 
 *' before commencing your explanation. We 
 owe the kill to chance." 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 ** Now the hill, the hedge, are green, 
 Now the warbler's throat's in tune, 
 Blithsome is the verdant scene. 
 Brightened by the beams of noon." 
 
 It was a sultry summer's day, and Trim- 
 bush and myself were luxuriating under the 
 wide-spreading and deep shade of a walnut 
 tree growing near the kennel. Five or six of 
 our companions, on the free list, like our- 
 selves, were lounging about in the coolest 
 spots, and their only occasional signs of life, 
 as they laid upon the ground, consisted in 
 brushing the buzzing flies from their nostrils 
 and hides, and, now and then, making a snap 
 at their enemies. Wearied, at length, with 
 my own laziness, I made an effort to draw 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 159 
 
 Trimbush into conversation, by asking him 
 the cause of kennel lameness. 
 
 The old hound rolled on his side, and giving 
 a wide yawn, stretched out his legs as far as 
 possible, with his stern stiffly turned over his 
 back. 
 
 " That's comfortable," said he, " very. 
 And so you wish to learn the cause of one of 
 the greatest afflictions that can visit us? " 
 
 " Yes," rejoined I, "it is my wish to 
 know everything concerning our interests. 
 For if mankind be the proper study for man, 
 so must hounds and hunting be the proper 
 study for me." 
 
 "A sensible remark," returned my com- 
 panion; " and as you are always ready to 
 listen, there can be no doubt but that you'll 
 attain proficiency." 
 
 ** I'm greatly obliged for your encourage- 
 ment," added I. 
 
 * * I remember two seasons ago, ' ' said Trim- 
 bush, " hearing Tom Holt read aloud from 
 The Sporting Magazine a remarkably sensible 
 article on the subject you wish to be informed 
 about, and it made so deep an impression that 
 I can now repeat it nearly word for word." 
 
 ** I'm all attention," I replied. 
 
160 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 My friend cleared his throat, and then 
 commenced. 
 
 '* Peculiar conditions of the atmosphere 
 have generally the effect of some disorders, 
 which attack men and animals to so great an 
 extent as to be denominated the prevailing 
 diseases of the time — such as cholera, typhus 
 fever, influenza, and many others. These 
 results are not always contemporary with the 
 weather, which in reality produces them. 
 Indeed, they most frequently make their 
 appearance some little time after a change of 
 temperature has taken place, by which certain 
 influences have been established, which become 
 the sources of disorder in the functions of 
 animal economy. Such disorders as those 
 which are peculiar to any particular districts 
 cannot fail to receive an impulse from such a 
 season as the one we have lately experienced. 
 Kennel lameness ranks among the number as 
 likely to be one over which these powers may 
 be expected to have a very considerable 
 control. Much has been said and much has 
 been written on the subject, and many 
 possibilities have been suggested, and 
 remedies proposed, which have so little reason 
 for their basis, that it appears extraordinary 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 161 
 
 how they could ever have entered the brain of 
 reasonable and thinking men : but before 
 going into a detail, I will introduce a few 
 remarks on endemic diseases, for the purpose 
 of more clearly establishing the point, ' that 
 certain situations produce the complaint, and 
 will for ever be the cause of its continuance so 
 long as those situations are preserved ' ; and 
 also that certain modes of treatment are the 
 causes of its prevailing in some instances 
 with a greater degree of inveteracy. Indeed 
 I have no hesitation in declaring, that bad 
 management will, even on healthy sites, 
 produce a modified degree of rheumatism, 
 which assumes the name of kennel lameness. 
 
 " There are certain diseases which afflict 
 the human body, and which are found to rage 
 in particular localities, termed endemic. 
 They are attributable to some pecularities of 
 the soil, the air, the food, and in some 
 instances of the habits of the inhabitants. 
 Poverty, want of cleanliness, and, the con- 
 sequence of poverty, bad and insufficient food 
 and raiment, may be enumerated among the 
 most conspicuous causes. A removal of them 
 will naturally be followed by the disappear- 
 ance of the endemic. So with hounds : if a 
 
162 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 slight degree of rheumatism exists, produced 
 by irregular treatment, alter the treatment, 
 and if those already affected do not recover, 
 the list of invalids v^ill not be augmented by 
 its appearance in fresh subjects. Some may 
 oppose me on this point, by observing, if bad 
 management produces the complaint in a 
 slight degree, may it not do so in a greater ? 
 To this I answer distinctly, No; inasmuch as 
 in some kennels the disorder has never been 
 knov^n to emanate, but that unsoimd hounds 
 brought from other kennels have recovered : 
 besides v^hich, there are many kennels in 
 which the disorder rages where the hounds are 
 treated precisely upon the same system as in 
 establishments which are perfectly free from 
 it. 
 
 "It is well known to what an extent 
 various diseases, such as cutaneous com- 
 plaints and scurvy, have identified themselves 
 with peculiar situations, more especially after 
 certain seasons. Medical practitioners are of 
 opinion, that, for the thoroughly compre- 
 hending the nature and the cure of endemical 
 diseases, an accurate study of topography is 
 essentially necessary. The inhabitants of 
 countries or places where diseases prevail 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 163 
 
 endemically are very often exempted from 
 other serious indispositions; and the natives 
 of a country or district frequently become 
 inured by habit to influences which at once 
 manifest their power over newly-imported 
 strangers, especially in tropical regions. In 
 countries inhabited by different races of men, 
 the same circumstances do not always produce 
 the same effects upon different varieties. The 
 water of the Seine produces disorder in the 
 Londoner, to which the Parisian, who is 
 accustomed to it, is exempt. The treatment 
 also of similar diseases often requires to be 
 very different in consequence of the locality 
 where it appears, and also the constitution 
 and habits of the patient. 
 
 " The miasmata, or particles which 
 emanate from the surface of the earth, 
 produce marked effects upon the human 
 constitution in those places where they 
 prevail. The districts where they are most 
 conspicuous are the marshes, fens and 
 swamps in Lincolnshire, Cambridgeshire, and 
 Essex : intermitting fevers and agues are 
 the consequence. Although marshy districts 
 are pre-eminently capable of engendering 
 miasmata, they are not exclusively so : the re- 
 
164 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 suit of numerous observations proves that the 
 circumstances essential to this phenomenon 
 are the presence of water, or moisture, and the 
 influence of solar heat : when the quantity of 
 water is great at any particular time, the 
 effects do not manifest themselves until it 
 subsides. Many circumstances are supposed 
 to influence the development of the effects of 
 these exhalations. It is also asserted, that it 
 has sometimes been carried to considerable 
 distances, to situations naturally healthy, by 
 currents of air. This is a consideration of 
 vast importance in forming an opinion upon 
 the fact of kennel lameness being indigenous 
 to certain situations, and shows most clearly 
 how little benefit can be anticipated in those 
 cases where the malady is severe, by the 
 interposition of impervious concretes, asphal- 
 tum, and such like preparations. 
 
 *' It has been asserted that attacks of 
 paralysis have been mistaken for kennel lame- 
 ness. How such mistakes can have originated 
 with any persons conversant with the 
 characteristics of the latter malady, it is 
 difficult to conceive, unless that term is 
 intended to comprehend all disorders in which 
 lameness is apparent. If so, ere long, we 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 165 
 
 shall have hounds, when lamed by thorns or 
 bruises, included in the list. Kennel lame- 
 ness, properly so termed, is intended to 
 convey the idea of a malady whose distinctive 
 symptoms are so identically similar to 
 rheumatism, that there appears scarcely any 
 visible reason why it should be distinguished 
 by any other term ; but as it has now acquired 
 a standing in the huntsman's nomenclature, 
 it would be presumption to attempt to displace 
 it : nevertheless, the term rheumatism would 
 be quite as applicable and more universally 
 comprehended. Before a physiologist pro- 
 nounces to what class a disorder belongs, and 
 before a physician attempts to prescribe a 
 remedy for its cure, it is requisite to 
 investigate the symptoms which exist. Now 
 the symptoms of paralysis and rheumatism 
 are so distinctly at variance, that it is utterly 
 impossible to fall under a mistake. Paralysis 
 is a nervous affection, in which the nerves, 
 acting on the muscles, interrupt their motion, 
 relaxing their tone and fibre, and very 
 frequently distorting some particular limb. 
 Rheumatism is a rigid or contracted state of 
 the muscles, attended with a slight in- 
 flammatory condition of the tissue which 
 
166 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 covers the muscles, having the effect, 
 when the animal has been some time at 
 I est, of creating a certain degree of 
 adhesion. Thus a hound badly affected 
 with kennel lameness, on first being taken 
 out, is so stiff and sore as scarcely to be able 
 to move — a state in which I have seen so 
 many, that the remembrance is accompanied 
 with feelings of commiseration and pity that 
 would prompt me to any trouble or exertion 
 that would produce the effect of subduing the 
 complaint. When hounds thus disordered 
 have been in motion a short time, so as to 
 increase the circulation of the blood, the 
 extreme rigidity or stiffness goes off to a 
 certain extent, dependent upon the violence of 
 the attack. But paralytic affections would 
 not be attended with any such results : 
 exercise would rather tend to increase than 
 to improve the capabilities of action. 
 
 " I have very little doubt but the severe 
 work which staghounds occasionally undergo, 
 and the numerous changes of temperature 
 which they have to contend against, are 
 causes for the aggravation of this malady. A 
 foxhound generally has some preparatory 
 exercise, besides the exertion of going to 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 167 
 
 covert, which latter is equivalent to the stag- 
 hound going to the place of meeting. The 
 former has to drav^ for and to find his fox, in 
 which effort his powers are more gradually 
 brought into play, and the circulation of his 
 blood is more rationally increased; but the 
 staghound is laid on to the scent of his game 
 without any preparatory excitement of the 
 system, when he immediately goes to work, 
 straining every nerve in his ardour for the 
 chase, and very frequently maintains those 
 efforts during the period of several hours; 
 and frequently, when in an evident state 
 of exhaustion, a time when immersion is 
 dangerous, he plunges into rivers, canals, or 
 lakes — places which stags have such inordin- 
 ate propensities for when severely pressed. 
 
 " The high and stimulating food, which is 
 no doubt found necessary to maintain con- 
 dition during a long chase, is another cause 
 for symptoms of kennel lameness making 
 their appearance with staghounds. The 
 circumstance of the canine species not throw- 
 ing off perspirable matter through the pores 
 of the skin, appears to be a very powerful 
 reason why they are so susceptible of 
 rheumatic affections, and more especially that 
 
168 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 it should assume a chronic character when 
 once introduced into the system. It is asserted 
 that the dog perspires through the tongue; 
 admitting that as a fact, it is to a very 
 trifling extent, and not equivalent to the vast 
 effusion of violent perspiration which must 
 ensue from the laborious exertions of the 
 chase, providing a hound generates an 
 equivalent proportion according to his bulk 
 that either a man or a horse does under similar 
 efforts ; besides which, making its escape from 
 one part only, the general relief to the animal 
 cannot be equivalent to that which is 
 experienced by those animals who have outlets 
 in the immediate proximity of almost every 
 muscle. It is very evident that a great portion 
 of the extraneous fluid, which in some animals 
 flies off in perspiration, is by the hound voided 
 m urine. The vast quantity which he passes 
 is a proof of this, and it is a reason why 
 medicines acting upon the urinary functions 
 should be resorted to, in cases of kennel lame- 
 ness, as a palliative. 
 
 " Seeing the announcement some months 
 ago that * our right trusty and well-beloved 
 friend ' and faithful correspondent. Ring- 
 wood, had forwarded his opinions and 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 169 
 
 suggestions on the subject of Kennel Lame- 
 ness, and appreciating most highly his 
 experience on sporting subjects, I was buoyed 
 up with the hope that his discoveries would 
 have thrown some new light on the case; 
 but was much disappointed at reading his 
 recommendations to try the effect of fires in 
 the lodging-rooms. Knowing them to have 
 been tried by Sir B. Graham, Mr. Boycott, 
 also in the kennels occupied by Mr. Nicol, I 
 believe also by Lord Kintore, with prejudicial 
 consequences, it only remains to intimate that 
 the practice is incompatible. Moreover, the 
 diuretic tendency which it produces, in 
 encouraging hounds to perform their evacua- 
 tions in the lodging-rooms, instead of in the 
 yards, is a reason why the adoption of fires, 
 however secured, in kennels, cannot be carried 
 out consistently with the usual discipline and 
 necessary observance of cleanliness. One of 
 the most positive cases in proof, that on some 
 occasions kennel lameness proceeds entirely 
 from the unhealthy situation of their habita- 
 tion, is that of Mr. Foljambe. With the 
 utmost attention to kennel management, a 
 long series of years passed with nothing but 
 disappointment and vexation to crown the 
 
170 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 most liberal and judicious experiments. 
 Nothing that human skill could suggest or 
 accomplish was left untried, until at length 
 it was determined to remove the hounds to a 
 kennel at another part of the country, where, 
 under precisely the same management, they 
 are sound and well. 
 
 ' ' In conversation with a friend a short time 
 since, a M. F. H., he made the remark, that 
 if I could make the discovery of a cure for 
 this disorder, I should be entitled to honors 
 and distinctions too superfluous to mention. 
 My reply was simply this : *A remedy has 
 been discovered, not by myself, for I desire no 
 merit w^hich I am not entitled to, but it is 
 clearly proved that removal to a healthy site 
 will effect all that is desired.' The removal 
 must not, however, be undertaken without 
 mature consideration, in order to ascertain 
 if the proposed new situation is perfectly free 
 from the causes which produce the disorder. 
 Clay soils may be denominated the most 
 eligible; light sandy soils and light soils on 
 chalk, are the worst. Any attempt to cure 
 the complaint on a situation which so 
 evidently engenders it, is like trying to heal a 
 wound while the substance which created it 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 171 
 
 remains within. Removal on the first 
 discovery that the kennel is so located as to 
 be injurious will most assuredly be found the 
 most satisfactory, and, in the end, the most 
 economical determination." 
 
 I managed to keep myself from a most 
 seductive doze during my companions some- 
 what prosy delivery; but scarcely had he 
 finished, than I was in the land of dreams, 
 and toying with 
 
 ** The children of an idle brain, 
 Begot of nothing but vain fantasy." 
 
 M 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 *' We still have slept together, 
 
 Rose at an instant, iearn'd, play'd, eat together; 
 And wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's swans, 
 Still we went coupled, and inseparable." 
 
 It was late in August, and the weather so 
 sultry, that we scarcely knew how to bear with 
 the intense heat. Some did nothing but lap 
 the water, always running in a clear fine 
 stream, from the fountain in the court, and 
 assuaged their thirst by continual sipping. 
 Others drank deeply, but seldom; and all, 
 more or less, evinced the feverish suffering 
 they endured. 
 
 I was lying in a shady corner of the court 
 one day about noontide, when I happened to 
 notice a hound of the name of Gameboy go 
 two or three times towards the fountain, and 
 then turn from it with a slight shudder. 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 173 
 
 Rising from the ground, I went towards 
 him and said, " What's the matter? " 
 
 '' I don't know," replied he, " but I feel 
 very strange. I'm dreadfully thirsty, and yet 
 cannot go near the water." 
 
 I now perceived that his eyes looked dull 
 and leaden, and his body shook, as if every 
 nerve and sinew were shattered and unstrung. 
 
 " Perhaps you have eaten something that 
 has disagreed with you," returned I. 
 
 * * No, ' ' added he ; " I picked up a bone in 
 our walk this morning, but that couldn't 
 injure me." 
 
 " What's that wound on your shoulder," 
 I asked. 
 
 **A mere scratch," said he, "I got from a 
 cur three days ago. He flew at me while 
 passing a cottage garden, and just touched 
 me on the skin." 
 
 This intelligence struck me with the most 
 inexpressible uneasiness, and I went to Trim- 
 bush, who was asleep, and waking him, 
 lepeated all I had seen and heard. 
 
 In a moment the old hound jumped from his 
 posture of indolence, and approaching Game- 
 boy, regarded him minutely. 
 
 "Are you unwell ? " said he. 
 
174 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 ** Yes," replied Gameboy; " I never felt so 
 queer before." 
 
 * 'Are you thirsty ? ' ' 
 
 "Awfully so," he rejoined, ** and yet 
 cannot drink." 
 
 '* But why? " asked Trimbush. 
 
 Gameboy gave an involuntary shudder, and 
 said, ' ' The sight, and even the noise of water, 
 is more painful than I can describe. ' ' 
 
 * ' Let me see you make an effort to go near 
 it," responded my companion. " Perseverance 
 may overcome this, seemingly, nervous affec- 
 tion." 
 
 In accordance with the desire, poor Game- 
 boy turned his head towards the fountain, 
 and endeavoured to approach it; but had 
 scarcely taken a stride in the direction, when 
 a spasm appeared to seize him, and with a 
 howl he rushed cowering to the farthest 
 corner of the court. 
 
 The attention of the rest of the hounds was 
 attracted by this, and several were trotting 
 towards him to learn the cause, when Trim- 
 bush interposed by saying, ** Stay — h»*s 
 mad." 
 
 As if each had received a shock of elec- 
 tricity, the whole stood still and mute, 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 175 
 
 regarding in silent horror their miserable 
 companion. It is impossible to convey the 
 effect produced upon the communication made 
 thus briefly by Trimbush. Every one seemed 
 not to know what to do or say, until Gameboy, 
 with a white thick foam dropping from his 
 jaw, sprung upon his feet and rushed towards 
 them. A wild bull would not have scattered 
 us more completely. Frenzied with fear, we 
 flew from the maddened wretch, who rushed 
 staggering at everything in his way, and 
 snapping his jaws with that fury which the 
 mad can only show. 
 
 •• Get from him," said Trimbush, in a 
 thick husky voice, and exhibiting the greatest 
 terror. ** Pray get from him. It's death if 
 he touches ye." 
 
 The noise in the kennel now became furious. 
 All were stricken with fright, and the howling 
 and cries were most appalling. 
 
 It could scarcely have continued more than 
 a minute, however, when the stentorian 
 voices of Will Sykes and Ned Adams were 
 heard, calling for " quiet," accompanied by 
 the cracks of a heavy thong. 
 
 ** Thanks be to the saints! " exclaimed 
 Trimbush, " assistance is at hand." 
 
176 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 Immediately afterwards both entered the 
 court, and the huntsman glancing round, said 
 reproachfully, " What's all this about, eh ? " 
 
 At this juncture, Mark the feeder made his 
 appearance, and his eye instantly fell upon 
 Gameboy. I never shall forget the old man's 
 countenance, the moment he saw the hound. 
 A ghastly paleness came over it, and he 
 looked almost stunned with the sight. 
 
 ** Great heaven! " ejaculated he, holding 
 up both his hands. " Great heaven. Will, 
 there's madness among 'em ! " 
 
 '* What ! " said the huntsman, his question 
 sounding like a sharp expression of pain. 
 
 " Madness," repeated Mark, " as sure as 
 we live." 
 
 With staring eyes, the huntsman and 
 second whip examined Gameboy at a short 
 distance and, after a slight pause, the 
 former exclaimed, " 'Tis true! Run, Ned, 
 and bring the Sqiure." 
 
 " Get in, get in," hallooed Mark, and 
 closing the lodging-room door, we were safe 
 from the attacks of the wretched Gameboy, 
 who was now left alone in the court. 
 
 " Take care," said Will, retreating to- 
 wards the door, " he's in a most rabid state." 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 177 
 
 '* I wonder where it will end," returned 
 Mark, joining the huntsman's side by the 
 
 door. 
 
 " Who can tell? " rejoined Will, bitterly. 
 " We may lose half of 'em, perhaps." 
 
 ** I noticed that he looked rather heavy 
 about the eyes, for a day or two, ' ' added the 
 feeder, " but I accounted for it through the 
 heat." 
 
 '* It was only yesterday," said Will, " that 
 I gave him a dose of black brimstone and 
 lard, seeing that he was feverish." 
 
 " It was a mercy no accident occurred to 
 ye," responded Mark. '*A mere scratch 
 from a tooth would have 
 
 " What's this ? " interrupted a well-known 
 voice, and there stood our master, breathless 
 and exhausted with the speed he had used in 
 attending the summons to the fearful scene. 
 
 *' Gameboy, sir," replied Will, pointing to 
 the convulsive and agonized hound, *' is mad 
 beyond a doubt." 
 
 * 'Are there any more with such symptoms ? ' ' 
 hurriedly asked the squire, scrutinizing the 
 object of their painful attention and interest. 
 
 ** We have not had time for a careful 
 examination, sir," returned the huntsman; 
 
178 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 " but I saw none as we hastily separated 
 them." 
 
 " You have acted well," said the Squire, 
 " and we must continue the same prompt 
 and sound judgment. Shoot that hound 
 instantly." 
 
 No sooner was the order given than Mark 
 produced a long, single-barrelled flint gun, 
 with which he was in the habit of slaughter- 
 ing rats about the precincts of the kennel, and 
 handed it to Will. 
 
 "Do it for me," whispered he, with a 
 quivering lip. " I feel quite sick." 
 
 Our feeder hesitated for a second or two; 
 but after a short struggle with a correspond- 
 ing reluctance to become the executioner, he 
 brought the piece to his shoulder, and drove 
 the charge crashing through Gameboy's brain. 
 Without a perceptible throe of anguish, poor 
 Gameboy fell lifeless upon the flags, and so 
 ended, to us, this terrible tragedy. 
 
 ** Before endeavouring to learn the cause of 
 the disease in him," said the Squire, " draft 
 each hound singly, and let us see whether any 
 have been bitten by him, or if the least cause 
 of fear exists that more must be destroyed." 
 
 " I hope not, sir," returned Will, with a 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 179 
 
 strangely inarticulate voice. " What shall 
 we do if " 
 
 V* It's useless to talk of what we shall do," 
 interrupted his master irritably, ** until we 
 learn what we can do. Draft the hounds." 
 
 One by one was called from the lodging- 
 room by name, and after minutely examining 
 the eyes, nose and mouth, every hackle was 
 rubbed back to see if the slightest recent 
 abrasion of the skin had been made. At 
 length it came to my turn, and unfortunately 
 a scratch made by myself, while brushing a 
 flea from my neck in the morning, was found 
 just under my left ear. 
 
 ** Reload your gun," said the Squire. 
 
 A trembling seized me at these words, so 
 that I could scarcely stand, and a film spread 
 itself across my eyes, which nearly blinded me. 
 
 " Oh, sir," exclaimed Will Sykes, " don't 
 have him shot yet. It does not look to me 
 like a bite." 
 
 " But it does to me," replied his master. 
 ;• What think you, Mark ? " 
 
 The old man divided the hackles with his 
 thumb and finger, and after a careful 
 examination pronounced an opinion coincid- 
 ing with that of the huntsman. 
 
180 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 " I know that the hound is a great 
 favourite with both of ye," said the Squire, 
 '■' and with good reasons. But remember, if 
 from any false feeling of kindness we spare 
 one infected, the entire pack may be lost." 
 
 '* I wouldn't do it, sir," returned Mark. 
 " I wouldn't do it, sir," repeated he, " if he 
 was my own child, and I thought him bitten. 
 The intended kindness would be right down 
 cruelty." 
 
 " Still," added our master, shaking his 
 head, ** I entertain great doubt as to the 
 policy of hesitating to take the safer course. 
 However, let him be shut up by himself and 
 watched incessantly; and in the event of the 
 most trifling but certain symptom appearing, 
 wait for no instructions from me, but shoot 
 him." 
 
 I was now taken from the court and 
 subjected to solitary confinement for six 
 weeks; but as Tom Holt explained the cause 
 of poor Gameboy's malady, from having seen 
 him attacked by the cur, and all the rest being 
 found free from the smallest likelihood of 
 inoculation, I was permitted to join my 
 companions again soon after cub-hunting 
 commenced. During my involuntary retreat. 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 181 
 
 Mark paid me the greatest attention, and, 
 that I might not be low-spirited for want of 
 company, would often sit upon my bench and 
 chat to me, and croon snatches of old ballads 
 to himself. He took me long walks, too, when 
 his work was done, and altogether the time 
 was spent much more agreeably than might be 
 imagined in the gloom of solitude. 
 
 Hearty was the welcome upon my 
 re-appearance in the court, and each of my 
 friends expressed his warm delight at seeing 
 me again ; although a stranger to our ways and 
 customs might deem the reception somewhat 
 churlish, and of the growling mood. How- 
 ever, we do not * use our tongues for the 
 concealment of our thoughts, ' and if devoid of 
 the polish of refined manners, we at least 
 possess an equal proportion of their honesty. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 '* Slow pass'd the night, and now with silver ray, 
 The star of morning ushers in the day ; 
 The shadows fly before the roseate hours, 
 And the chill dew hangs glittering on the flowers ; 
 The pruning-hook or humble spade to wield, 
 The cheerful labourer hastens to the field." 
 
 " Trifles, light as air," observed Trim- 
 bush, * ' are frequently of the most momentous 
 importance. Who could have thought, now, ' ' 
 continued he, *' that brushing a flea from 
 your neck v^ould have subjected ye to upwards 
 of six weeks confinement from all society? " 
 
 "Ah ! " exclaimed I, " if I could have had 
 any anticipation of such a result, he might 
 have sucked my blood till now. ' ' 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 183 
 
 ** I was in a terrible fright," rejoined my 
 friend, " that they were going to stop its 
 circulation at once." 
 
 *' It would have been one of the most 
 unjustifiable murders ever committed," re- 
 turned I. 
 
 " That may be all very true," added my 
 companion; " but what compensation would 
 the act of injustice have been to you ? " 
 
 ** None," replied I. 
 
 *' There have been innumerable such-like 
 mistakes committed," said Trimbush, '* and 
 never discovered. Fortunately for you, the 
 suspected had the benefit of the doubt." 
 
 " I consider that the Squire was far too 
 hasty in his decision regarding myself," 
 responded I. 
 
 '* The convicted always think so," rejoined 
 the old hound. '* However," continued he, 
 *• I quite agree in the same opinion. There 
 was sufficient cause for fearful apprehension, 
 and it was impossible to calculate the amount 
 of the calamity. But I do not think that any 
 kind of fear should be allowed to exaggerate 
 an injury. To observe sedulous care in 
 preventing its extension is most wise and 
 prudent. At the same time, if a hasty panic 
 
184 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 overrules the cooler judgment, the engendered 
 evil may on evil's head accumulate ten-fold. 
 Our master was decidedly wrong in contem- 
 plating having you destroyed with such slight 
 evidence of questionable inoculation; but he 
 was quite right in ordering you to be drafted 
 from the rest. The one was an un weighed, 
 ill-judged impulse — the other, a wise pre- 
 caution." 
 
 "A distinction, with a material differ- 
 ence," I observed. 
 
 * ' Yes, ' ' replied he, ' * beyond the shadow of 
 a doubt. I once heard," resumed my friend, 
 ** of a M. F. H. having his entire pack 
 destroyed, in consequence of a couple-and-a- 
 half showing symptoms of hydrophobia — or, 
 as we should say, in more intelligible 
 language, a dread of water. Nothing could be 
 more wanton or unjustifiable, and as well 
 might an entire community of human beings 
 be doomed to perish in consequence of one or 
 more of its members becoming insane, as fifty 
 or sixty couple of hounds, from the same 
 cause." 
 
 " Were there any other doubtful cases 
 besides myself ? " I inquired. 
 
 ** No," replied Trimbush. "All were 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 185 
 
 turned over with the greatest scrutiny; but 
 nothing suspicious appearing, we were 
 allowed to remain as we were, with a great 
 additional watch being kept over us. In fact, 
 Mark, or Will Sykes, was always close by 
 for a long time after Gameboy's death; and 
 if a hound growled even in his dream, one or 
 the other was at hand in a moment. I never 
 saw greater vigilance; and I can't help 
 thinking that the two kept an eye open for 
 weeks in their sleep." 
 
 The tramp of three horses approaching the 
 kennel door put an end to this, our first 
 conversation since the fatal occurrence of 
 Gameboy's death. 
 
 ** Let 'em out, Mark," said a well-known 
 voice, and as the feeder threw back the door, 
 we scrambled from the court, and ran and 
 jumped in sportive circles about the horses. 
 Although in the highest state of excitement, 
 every tongue was mute, and a slight crack 
 from Tom Holt's whip put a considerable 
 check to the rather violent gambols of a few of 
 the youngest. It was not quite daylight as 
 we trotted along betwen three and four miles ; 
 and as we entered a gate at the end of a 
 hy-lane, who should be standing with his 
 

 186 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 reins over his arm, and leaning carelessly 
 against the side of his horse, but our " up- 
 with-the-lark " and excellent master. 
 
 ** You are behind your time, William,'* 
 said he, throwing himself into his saddle. 
 
 " Begging your pardon, sir," replied the 
 huntsman, tugging at the curb chain securing 
 his thick watch in a very deep fob, " I think 
 not." 
 
 By seven minutes," rejoined his master. 
 Quite right, sir," added Will, looking at 
 his apoplectic time-keeper. " Seven minutes 
 have given me the slip." 
 
 " No matter," returned the Squire; " we 
 have scarcely light enough as it is. ' ' 
 
 The narrow zig-zag lane led on to a large 
 open grass field, on the borders of which was 
 one of the best and strongest covers in our 
 country. 
 
 ** Who has examined this cover? " asked 
 the Squire. 
 
 " Tom Holt, sir," replied the huntsman. 
 
 '* Where did you find most billets? " 
 
 * ' In the field beyond this, sir, ' ' replied the 
 whipper-in, with a touch of his cap. 
 
 " Very good," rejoined his master. " Then 
 take them there, William," continued he. 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 187 
 
 " and let the puppies see the old hounds feel 
 for the scent." 
 
 No sooner were we in the field spoken of by 
 Tom Holt, than, stooping my nose to the 
 ground, I inhaled that scent, which, from 
 the first, sent my blood tingling through my 
 whole body. Several began to hustle, push, 
 and fling themselves about, and one, named 
 Harbinger, threw his tongue. 
 
 " So-oftly, Harbinger, so-oftly," said 
 Will. " You're as noisy as ever, I see." 
 
 " He's incorrigible," replied the Squire. 
 " Put him away." 
 
 " We shall cure him after a few more 
 trials, sir, I hope," rejoined the huntsman, 
 who could never bear to have one of us 
 destroyed. 
 
 *' He should have been cured before this," 
 rejoined his master, " and if not removed, he 
 will render others as bad as himself. I hate 
 a noisy hound," continued he, " and I'm 
 certain no drilling will stop Harbinger from 
 riot and babbling. There is no vice so con- 
 tagious and injurious as the one he possesses 
 and persists in; and to use further forbear- 
 ance in retaining him in the pack would be 
 most unwise. You know, last season, that 
 
 N 
 
188 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 after being flogged three times in one day for 
 riot at hare, he repeated the fault whenever 
 he had the chance and thought the whips 
 could not get at him." 
 
 *' He's to go, then, sir ? " said Will. 
 
 " The sooner the better," replied the 
 Squire. " I wish to have my hounds so 
 perfect, that if any one of them speaks in 
 cover, you may be certain that it's a fox, and 
 know that he may be cheered without fear of 
 a mistake. Unless this be the case, what 
 pleasure can there be to me, as their master, 
 or satisfaction to you, as their huntsman ? ' ' 
 
 Will gave no answer, and to account for the 
 obstinate Harbinger's fate, all I can say is, 
 that he was led from the kennel the following 
 day, with a coil of rope round his neck. 
 
 We now carried the drag into the cover, 
 and Trimbush and myself acknowledged the 
 scent. Will gave us a cheer that startled 
 many a pigeon from her roost, and Tom Holt 
 and Ned Adams spurred right and left, with 
 orders to head short back every fox that made 
 his appearance. We got up to our cub, and 
 drove him through the cover at a slashing 
 rate. The morning being warm, and the 
 scent good, there was no breathing time, and 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 189 
 
 the pace soon began to tell upon the family of 
 foxes, which we were now racing in divided 
 lots. 
 
 ' * How many of them are there ? ' ' inquired 
 the Squire. 
 
 ' ' Not less than two brace and a half, sir, ' * 
 replied the huntsman. 
 
 " Very good," rejoined his master. " Let 
 the vixen go if she will." 
 
 He then galloped towards Tom Holt, and 
 just as he was about cracking his whip, a 
 signal from the Squire stopped him. 
 
 ** Come from this corner," said he, " and 
 let the old one go, and as soon as these hounds 
 come out with the scent, stop them, and take 
 them to William." 
 
 Scarcely were the instructions given, when 
 the vixen took advantage of the opportunity, 
 and broke away at her best pace. The lot 
 settled to her were stopped, and taken to the 
 huntsman at the top of a ride, in about the 
 middle of the cover. 
 
 Being joined in one body, we now pressed 
 our cub most severely ; and I viewed him cross 
 two or three rides with his red rag out, in a 
 truly sinking condition. 
 
 This cub is very much distressed, sir," 
 
 f ( 
 
190 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 observed the huntsman, " and if they don't 
 get one of the others up, for they have all 
 dropped but this, they'll soon run into him." 
 
 I now heard a succession of cracks from a 
 thong, which I knew to be Ned Adams's. 
 
 " He's headed a fox back," said Trimbush, 
 exultingly, " but it isn't our hunted one. 
 He's out — come along." 
 
 A bunch of us swept from the side of the 
 cover, and with heads up, dashed across a 
 field, before Will was aware that we had got 
 away. 
 
 " They're out, by heaven! " exclaimed the 
 huntsman. " Where can Ned be ? " 
 
 "All right," returned the Squire. " They 
 broke from the side, and no one's to blame." 
 
 We carried the scent through the first hedge 
 into a summerland, and threw up. Will, 
 coming up, took hold of us rather hastily, and 
 cast us down wind. 
 
 " Gently, William, gently," said his 
 master, reprovingly. " You appear to have 
 forgotten the golden rule of letting them 
 alone." 
 
 We felt down wind for some distance, but 
 not making it out, turned up, and as we were 
 passing the spot where we had jumped 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 191 
 
 through the hedge, a thought struck me that 
 the cub might be skulking in the ditch on the 
 other side. Popping my nose down, I dropped 
 into it, and finding instantly that I was right, 
 I rushed through the brambles, and just as he 
 was about to spring out, I caught him across 
 a tender part, and with one pinch he was as 
 dead as a salt herring. 
 
 "Who- whoop!" hallooed the Squire. 
 *' Who- whoop, my beauty! " 
 
 To the envy of most of my companions, I 
 received great praise for this kill from our 
 master, who seemed not to know how to make 
 enough of me on our road home. 
 
 " Yo-o, Ringwood! " cried he, throwing 
 me a bit of biscuit from his pocket. " Yo-o, 
 Ringwood, darling," and then turning to 
 Will, said, " What a mercy such a hound as 
 that was not destroyed through my haste ! " 
 
 "Ay, sir," returned the huntsman, with a 
 knowing shake of the head. " If we have as 
 good, we've none better." 
 
 " Thanks to my instructions," growled 
 Trimbush. 
 
 " Come, come," said I, " don't be jealous 
 of the little praise I'm getting. You receive 
 your share." 
 
192 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 ' ' Jealous ? ' ' repeated my companion, with 
 a proud lash of his stern, " I flatter myself 
 that I can afford to be generous.'' 
 
 Seeing, however, that he was a little 
 annoyed at the attention I received, I said 
 nothing more, but jogged in silence by the side 
 of the Squire's horse. 
 
 " By the way," said our master, address- 
 ing Will, " in speaking of haste, let this 
 morning be another lesson to you not to take 
 your hounds off their noses with a sinking 
 fox. More are lost by that than by any 
 other mistake committed. There was every 
 probability of your leaving your fox behind in 
 the ditch, and then you would have said that 
 he had headed back to cover. A fresh one 
 would have been got up, and the error 
 remained undiscovered. Countless foxes, 
 booked safe to die, are changed in this 
 manner, and escape from no other reason than 
 from taking hounds off their noses. Remem- 
 ber this, William." 
 
 The huntsman touched his cap, and the 
 conversation dropped. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 ** For aught I see ttey are as sick that 
 
 Surfeit with too much, as they that starve with 
 Nothing." 
 
 We had just finished our breakfast one 
 morning, and were lying about the court to 
 assist digestion, when I chanced to remark 
 that I considered the flesh not quite so nicely 
 cooked as usual. 
 
 *' Your palate must be out of order," 
 returned Trimbush. '* Mark is as good a 
 boiler as ever heated a copper." 
 
 " Still the material might have been 
 tough," said I, " and consequently required 
 longer boiling." 
 
 *' I think not," rejoined my friend, with a 
 
194 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 smack of his lips. " My taste may be 
 depended upon in such important matters." 
 
 "A great deal of one's comfort depends 
 upon the cook," I observed. 
 
 " Beyond conception," emphatically re- 
 plied the old hound. " In addition to 
 which," he continued, " we can't perform 
 our duties unless properly kept. The meal 
 must be good and old, the flesh well but not 
 over-boiled, and the broth rich and sweet to 
 enable us to kill foxes handsomely. Our 
 strength, speed, and wind, depend upon the 
 feeding." 
 
 " No doubt about it," coincided I. 
 
 " I remember," resumed my friend, 
 " hearing a scientific opinion given on this 
 important subject to us from a thorough- 
 going sportsman of the name of Cecil. In a 
 few words I think more was never spoken." 
 
 " If not too much trouble," said I, ** it 
 would gratify me to hear it repeated." 
 
 * 'A pleased and patient listener, ' ' returned 
 Trimbush, " invariably renders me a willing 
 speaker." And after settling himself in a 
 position of the greatest ease, he commenced 
 the following philosophical dissertation on 
 catering for foxhounds : 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 195 
 
 "It is a circumstance very universally 
 remarked by masters of hounds, huntsmen, 
 and others who are in the habit of making 
 observations in the field, that hounds have 
 appeared sooner blown when running on 
 moist days during this season than usual. 
 The cause has evidently arisen from the 
 peculiar mildness of the weather. Whenever 
 the atmosphere is damp and warm, it contains 
 a less quantity of oxygen than when it is dry, 
 clear, and bracing, and the effect on the 
 respiratory organs of all animals when 
 brought into active exertion is very apparent. 
 Hounds have been observed to lap water when 
 going to covert more freely on some occasions 
 than others, which is also a symptom of the 
 effect of the atmosphere. 
 
 ** Liebig's very clever work may be con- 
 sulted to advantage, to ascertain how and 
 why certain causes and effects in the animal 
 economy are produced; but as many persons 
 who may be interested on the subject have not 
 an opportunity of procuring it, I will 
 introduce a few abbreviated extracts, which 
 are most particularly connected with the 
 effects of food and the peculiar conditions of 
 the atmosphere. 
 
196 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 " Liebig says, * Two animals, which in 
 equal times take up by means of the lungs 
 and skin* unequal quantities of oxygen, 
 consume quantities of the same nourishment 
 which are unequal in the same ratio. 
 
 ** * The consumption of oxygen in equal 
 times may be expressed by the number of 
 respirations : it is clear that in the same 
 individual the quantity of nourishment 
 required must vary with the force and 
 number of the respirations. 
 
 " *A child, in whom the organs of respira- 
 tion are naturally very active, requires food 
 oftener than an adult, and bears hunger less 
 easily. A bird deprived of food dies on the 
 third day, while a serpent, with its sluggish 
 respiration, can live without food three 
 months or longer. 
 
 " * The number of respirations is less in a 
 state of rest than during exercise or work. 
 The quantity of food necessary in both 
 conditions must vary in the same ratio. 
 
 * As hounds do not perspire through the skin, I 
 apprehend they do not consume oxygen through 
 that medium : hence a reason why the efforts of 
 the lungs are so laborious when protracted exertions 
 call them into increased action. 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 197 
 
 '* ' The quantity of oxygen inspired is also 
 affected by the temperature and density of 
 the atmosphere. 
 
 " ' It is no difficult matter in warm 
 climates to study moderation in eating, and 
 men can bear hunger for a long time under the 
 Equator, but cold and hunger united very 
 soon exhaust the body.' 
 
 " Liebig also states, * That the quantity of 
 food is regulated by the number of respira- 
 tions, by the temperature of the air, and by 
 the amount of heat given off to the surround- 
 ing medium.' 
 
 ** From the foregoing remarks, it will be 
 seen how great an influence food has upon 
 animals called upon to exert such violent 
 labour as foxhounds are. The comparisons 
 of the duration of life, when deprived of 
 food, between the bird and the serpent, I 
 apprehend, relates to birds whose nature it 
 is to feed upon grain only, because the 
 carnivorous birds live much longer without 
 food, their respiration being slower : and I 
 infer by this that the power of endurance in 
 hoimds, and their perfection of wind and 
 condition, are regulated by feeding them with 
 a due proportion of flesh, which, prepared by 
 
198 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 being boiled, is converted at once into blood. 
 
 "All animals partaking of a mixed diet, 
 partly of grain, will be greatly influenced in 
 their respiratory organs by the proportions 
 which are given to them and the state of the 
 atmosphere. The quality of the blood being 
 regulated by the quantity and the quality of 
 food consumed, its capability of passing 
 through the lungs is governed. When an 
 animal has partaken largely of food which 
 renders the blood of that character as to cause 
 the consumption of a great quantity of oxygen 
 in its passage through the lungs, and the 
 atmosphere is deficient of that important gas 
 — ^which is always the case in close damp 
 weather, such as is occasionally experienced 
 during the winter — it follows, as a matter of 
 course, that hounds, and all such animals, 
 will quickly evince symptoms of distress, or, 
 familiarly speaking, will become blown, as the 
 causes which produce that effect predominate. 
 
 ** In hot climates man consumes very little, 
 if any, animal food; in cold ones, scarcely 
 anything else : and the Esquimaux will par- 
 take of blubber, animal oils, or fat — a food 
 nauseating and disgusting to the people of 
 another climate. 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 199 
 
 " With these facts it becomes apparent 
 how the quantity and quality of food require 
 to be regulated by circumstances, especially 
 on the day before hunting. 
 
 ' ' There are few, if any, masters of hounds 
 or huntsmen who are not aware of the 
 necessity of giving small proportions of flesh 
 during the warm weather at the commence- 
 ment of the season, and again in the spring, 
 when such a condition of the atmosphere 
 generally prevails as that which we so 
 universally experience during the months of 
 November, December, and January. With- 
 out a certain proportion of flesh, it is well 
 known that hounds cannot work; that is to 
 «ay, they cannot go through the fatigues of a 
 quick burst or a protracted chase; at the same 
 time, too large a quantity will render them 
 gross and plethoric, consequently incapable of 
 exertion. 
 
 "As the quality of the food depends in a 
 very great degree upon the manner in which 
 it is prepared, that becomes a subject worthy 
 of considerable attention. It is a practice in 
 many kennels to boil the flesh to a most 
 unnecessary and prejudicial extent, but it is a 
 custom which cannot be too strongly objected 
 
200 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 to. Flesh over-boiled is divested of its 
 nutritive properties in a very great degree. 
 It may be remarked by some, those who are 
 advocates for excessive boiling, that if the 
 nutritive properties are extracted from the 
 flesh, they are contained in the broth, and that 
 broth being given to the hounds, the nutritious 
 principles are still preserved — an argument 
 which I can by no means agree to. 
 
 '* Like man, the hound is found to thrive 
 best upon food composed of flesh and grain 
 combined, consequently a comparison between 
 the two may with propriety be introduced. 
 When a man undergoes the ordeal of training 
 for an athletic engagement, the animal food 
 which he partakes of is only subject to the 
 process of cooking in a moderate degree; 
 overdone meat is studiously avoided. To the 
 valetudinarian broth is prescribed as afford- 
 ing light nourishment with a moderate 
 expenditure of the powers of digestion, but 
 is never called in aid to form a principal 
 portion of the aliment for the human subject 
 at a time when great exertion is required. It 
 is always found that broth creates thirst with 
 us, and there is no doubt it has the same 
 effect on the hound when given to a great ex- 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 201 
 
 tent, more especially when made very strong. 
 
 " I must observe, that I am by no means 
 about to recommend the disuse of broth in the 
 kennel; but I wish to point out the propriety 
 of giving it in moderate quantities, and of 
 depending upon the flesh which is given for 
 containing the bulk of nourishment, and 
 giving it in that state when it contains the 
 greatest quantity. It is an impression with 
 some huntsmen, that by boiling the flesh to 
 an excessive degree, the bad qualities are 
 extracted — that is to say, if the horse had any 
 disease about him, that the humours would be 
 extracted from the flesh; but then it must be 
 remembered that they would be contained in 
 the broth, in which state they would be quite 
 as injurious, or perhaps more so. 
 
 * 'At the time when an animal is performing 
 great exertion, it is essentially requisite that 
 his stomach should contain but a small 
 quantity of food, but that food should be of a 
 nutritious character and easy of digestion. 
 The practice that I would recommend, and it 
 is one borne out by the reasons already 
 assigned, as well as by experiment, is, not to 
 give hounds any broth at all in their food 
 on the day before hunting. 
 
202 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 " The pudding must be reduced with pure 
 water which has been boiled, and the usual 
 allowance, or perhaps, on some occasions, a 
 trifling addition to the accustomed portion of 
 flesh must of course be given; by this method 
 of feeding, hounds will most assuredly do 
 their work far better than when a quantity 
 of broth with very little or no flesh is given ; 
 a custom adopted in some kennels with very 
 bad results. From such treatment, hounds 
 will be observed light of muscle, big in their 
 bodies, and incapable of running up at the 
 conclusion of a severe day. By adopting the 
 recommendation of substituting water which 
 has been boiled, for broth, on the day before 
 hunting, it will be found that hounds will not 
 evince an equal degree of thirst by constantly 
 lapping on their road to cover, nor will they 
 be so soon blown in chase. ' ' 
 
 " There," ejaculated Trimbush, upon the 
 completion of his task, " that's what I call 
 giving the * why's' for all the ' wherefores.' " 
 
 Clever and philosophical as I deemed this 
 delivery to be, I had become somewhat 
 wearied with it, and in order to divert my 
 companion from steeping his senses in forget- 
 fulness, which his blinking eyelids bore 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 203 
 
 evidence was fast approaching, I asked him 
 if he had ever turned his attention to the 
 poetry as well as to the practical details of 
 hunting. 
 
 ' ' What do you mean ? ' ' inquired Trim- 
 bush, with a sleepy stare of surprise. 
 
 " Simply, whether you have made the 
 attempt of earning for yourself that fame," 
 replied I, " which I intend gaining for 
 myself ? ' ' 
 
 "I'm quite in the dark," rejoined my 
 companion, testily. 
 
 " Well, then," returned I, "to be more 
 explicit, I mean to let my tongue appear in 
 print." 
 
 ' ' In print ! ' ' exclaimed Trimbush, husky 
 with surprise. " How? " 
 
 "Ah," added I, quoting an early reply to 
 one of my interrogatories, " there are many 
 things as clear to our vision as the sunshine 
 at noon, and yet their causes are hid in 
 impenetrable darkness." 
 
 "Well, well!" added my friend, "I 
 don't wish to appear inquisitive, but if you 
 should mix me up in your — your — " 
 
 " Don't say book," remarked I. "It 
 sounds so gent-like." 
 
204 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 "Anything you please," said Trimbush. 
 " But as I was about saying," continued he, 
 '* if you should come out so powerfully strong, 
 perhaps you'd make room for a little slice of 
 an attempt at a song upon our worthy master 
 — God bless him ! ' ' 
 
 ** Of your composing? " inquired I. 
 
 Trimbush coughed, licked his paws, 
 examined the tip of his stern, as if a flea was 
 taking a liberty in that quarter, but gave no 
 answer. 
 
 I repeated the question. 
 
 "As you will have it," he rejoined, 
 pettishly, " then it is my composition." 
 
 " I feel assured that you need not be 
 ashamed of it," returned I. " Pray let me 
 hear the effusion." 
 
 ** You'll not laugh ? " said he, inquiringly. 
 
 " Not if the intent be serious," I replied. 
 
 " In that case," rejoined Trimbush, " here 
 goes ! " and in a subdued, melodious voice, he 
 commenced his original song of 
 
 THE OLD HUNTING SQTJIEE. 
 
 I'll sing you a sporting" song that was made by a 
 
 sporting pate, 
 Of a fine old hunting Squire, who has a fine estate. 
 And who keeps his hounds and hunters at a liberal 
 
 old rate. 
 
THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 205 
 
 And plenty gives to the poor and old who enter at 
 
 his gate ; 
 Like a fine old hunting Squire, one of the present 
 
 day. 
 
 His custom is, when at the Meet, to welcome great 
 
 and small, 
 And a hearty greeting gives he to friends and 
 
 neighbours all ; 
 'Tis here the laugh and joke and jest right merrily 
 
 go round, 
 " But hark, my boys! pray, cease your noise; for 
 
 now sly Reynard's found! " 
 Cries our fine old hunting Squire, one of the present 
 
 day. 
 
 Although threescore and ten his years, he boldly 
 
 takes the lead, 
 And flies the gate, the brook, and wall, and sweeps 
 
 along the mead ; 
 He never swerves nor cranes — not he; his true 
 
 heart's in the sport. 
 Oh ! our fine old hunting Squire is one of the right 
 
 sort! 
 A fine old hunting Squire, one of the present day. 
 
 From scent to view they run him now, in vain fleet 
 
 Reynard flies. 
 The ringing pack have doomed his death — he 
 
 struggles, but he dies ! 
 And at the finish who was there? Why he who at 
 
 the burst 
 lied the boldest and the best, in the foremost flight 
 
 was first — 
 Our fine old hunting Squire, one of the present day. 
 
206 THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 
 
 '* A beautiful chaunt ! " ejaculated I, 
 pleased with the sporting rhyme, " and one 
 which shall have place in ' The Life of a Fox- 
 hound.' " 
 
 Having doubtlessly made every note of 
 value which could be drawn from his experi- 
 ence, Ringwood's memoir here ends from 
 want of material, and the earnest disposition 
 on the part of his biographer of wishing to 
 prove neither monotonous nor wearisome. It 
 was deemed by that wise hound that a history 
 or tale, when told, should, like a fox, when 
 killed, be broken up and finished. To this, 
 therefore, we will give an appropriate one in 
 a ringing 
 
 Who-whoop ! 
 
 THE END. 
 
V^/ebster Family IJbraiy of Veterinary ivledicine 
 Cummings School of Veterinary Meclicin3 at 
 Tults University 
 20GV\/estboroRo3d 
 North Grafton, MA 01536 
 
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