THE BADGER 



will go off to a badger earth on his own 

 account, especially if a young one, will pro- 

 bably end his days and find his grave there. 

 I have known several do so. Poor old 

 Twig! Always happy, he seldom now 

 wanders further than the stable-yard, and 

 spends his declining days playing with the 

 foxhound pup or sleeping in the sun, when 

 in his dreams he fights his battles over again, 

 and thrice he slays the slain. When we were 

 young together he followed me every hunt- 

 ing morning to the meet, where he at once 

 incorporated himself with the pack, greeting 

 his friends in turn with a grin, a twist of his 

 body, and a wag of his stump ; and when the 

 daylight faded, and the horn sounded for 

 home, I had always to carry him off on my 

 saddle, so reluctant was he, after the longest 

 day, to leave his comrades of the chase. 

 This became so troublesome that at last I 

 yielded to the pressure of the huntsman, Will 

 Nicholl, who then hunted the Cleveland 

 hounds, to permit him to join the kennel 

 establishment. For three seasons he scarcely 

 missed a day, and when a fox was run to 

 107 



