84 



Goodwood — so called after a river running through or near the estate 

 of the late Duke of Richmond. The time was the early twilight, just 

 preceding the dawn. Suddenly I heard the voices of a large pack of 

 wolves in full cry after a deer. The wolves were running in thick cover 

 on the opposite side of the river, which, at the point where I stood, was 

 about forty yards wide. The moment was an exciting one; but I have 

 no recollection of having been frightened in the least. I stood close to 

 the edge of the water, ready to tackle them with a single-barrelled 

 muzzle-loader, charged with No. 3 shot, and, at the time, regretted very 

 much that they did not show themselves. The pack passed rapidly on 

 through the dense undergrowth on the opposite shore, and caught the 

 deer in a few minutes, a conclusion indicated by their silence. Sports- 

 men will not consider the story complete if I do not tell them that day- 

 light immediately appeared, and the No. 3 was put to its legitimate use; 

 and if I remember correctly, ten wild ducks constituted the result of 

 that morning's tramp before breakfast. 



On various occasions since the incident above referred to, I have 

 listened to the magnificent melody of the hounds in full cry upon the 

 steaming trail of the deer. Sportsmen need scarcely be told how far 

 such a concert surpasses the highest effort of instrumental music. 

 Everything considered, such a wild, weird, cl-ar sounding musical per- 

 formance as that with which I was favoured on the morning in ques" 

 tion, I have never since heard. The " angry growl " attributed to the 

 wolf by the novelist and literary theorist, who possibly never heard or 

 saw one, and probably know as little, either practically or otherwise, 

 about the animals, as the generality of would-be-witty writers do about 

 the correct mode of rendering the Tipperary idiom — is just so far from 

 the natural habit of the wolf as is the capacity of that animal to play 

 the bagpipes. 



Talking of the bagpipes reminds me of an incident which I remem- 

 ber reading about in my young days. In the early settlement of Can- 

 ada, a Scotch piper was on his way through a iorest path to a merry 

 making In passing through a thicket his ears were assailed by the 

 howls of a pack of wolves close around him. There was no use in run- 

 ning away, so Sandy struck up " The Campbells are coming," with 

 might and main, and away scampered the wolves as if pursued by a 



