WILD SPORT IN BRITTANY. 129 



the fastnesses ring with the chirrup of his hounds and the merry 

 blast of Bissett's horn. 



On our return from Koenig that evening an agreeable surprise 

 awaited M. de St. Prix, and, indeed, several of the Breton 

 chasseurs, including myself, then gathered at Gourin : an English- 

 man, called Shaft o, had arrived at the Cheval Blanc, after an 

 absence of some months passed in Norway, whither he had gone 

 for the purpose of salmon-fishing during the preceding summer. 

 I had often heard of this gentleman during my stay in Brittany, 

 but hitherto had not been lucky enough to meet him, much to my 

 regret ; as, almost invariably, on being introduced to a strange 

 chasseur, the first question he asked me was, if I knew my com- 

 patriot, Mr. Shafto ? And the look of surprise and disappointment 

 expressed, on hearing I had not that honour, made me quite feel 

 I was arguing myself unknown, and that the sooner I made his 

 acquaintance the stronger would be my credentials in that 

 country. 



Well, here he was at last ; and a heartier demonstration of 

 welcome and kindly feeling than that shown him, from the host 

 of the Cheval Blanc to M. de St. Prix, was never yet witnessed. 

 They actually hugged him ; and would, I think, have saluted 

 his cheek, but for his natural repugnance to that kind of 

 salutation. They would, however, have found that a difficult 

 matter, as his face was as hairy as that of a Carlisle otter- 

 hound, and looked as if it had never been visited by the edge 

 of a razor. 



When St. Prix had formally introduced me to him, he said 

 pleasantly, " Very glad to meet a fellow-countryman in such good 

 company ; but how on earth did you find your way here ? I 

 have lived twenty years in the country, and never met an 

 Englishman before at Gourin." 



I explained that my object in visiting the country was to 

 get some good wolf-hunting, more antiquo; and that my friend 



