258 CARNIVORA. 



ently one or two appear, leaping over some old furze which they cannot 

 push through, and exhibit to the field their glossy skins. Two minutes 

 more elapse ; another hound slips out of cover, and takes a short turn 

 outside, with his nose to the ground and his stern lashing his side — 

 thinking, no doubt, he might touch on a drag, should Reynard have been 

 abroad in the night. Hounds have no business to think ; a crack of the 

 whipper-in's thong sends the too enthusiastic animal back to its work. 

 Soon the cover shakes more than ever. Every stem appears alive, and 

 it reminds us of a corn-field waving in the wind. In two minutes the 

 sterns of some more hounds are seen " flourishing" above the gorse. In 

 an instant a hound challenges — and another — and another. The fox 

 breaks out; " Tally-ho," cries some countryman, and the chase has com- 

 menced. The whole pack, the whole crowd of horsemen is after him. 

 If the hounds are pressed too hard by the riders, they are apt to overrun 

 the scent and come to a fault. It is now the duty of the huntsmen to 

 recall them. At one blast of his horn they are back at the place where 

 the scent failed ; it is again taken up, and all that are left of the field are 

 again dashing forward ; but the number of men up with the hounds soon 

 diminishes., not only are many of the horses unable to keep up with the 

 speed of the leaders, but many of the riders have not the nerve to face 

 the fences, brooks, or posts and rails which have to be surmounted with- 

 out a pause. 



The pencil of a painter is now wanting ; and unless the painter should 

 be a sportsman, even his pencil would be worth little. What a country 

 is before him ! — what a panorama does it represent ! Not a field of less 

 than forty — some a hundred acres — and no more signs of the plough than 

 in the wilds of Siberia. See the hounds in a body that might be covered 

 by a damask table-cloth — every stern down, and every head up, for there 

 is no need of stooping, the scent 13'ing breast-high. But the crash ! — the 

 music ! — how to describe these? Reader, there is no crash now, and not 

 much music. It is the tinker that makes great noise over a little work ; 

 but at the pace these hounds are going there is no time for babbling. 

 Perchance one hound in five may throw his tongue as he goes, to inform 

 his comrades, as it were, that the villain is before them. The fox shows 

 signs of distress : his coat becomes darker, his pace slower ; the dogs run 

 mto him, and all is over. 



The maintenance of a pack of Fox-hounds is an affair involving con- 

 siderable expense. The master of one, hunting four days a week, must 



