UNAUTHORIZED FOX-CHASE. 187 



bird who has made more than one journey to this country 

 before now. Wistfully my dog watches the snow-white 

 flock; but the evening is coming on, and we must leave 

 them. 



A desert of moss, heather, and stunted fir-trees, which takes 

 an hour to walk through, affords little worthy of note, with 

 the exception of that fine fellow of a fox who, as we pass on, 

 surveys us from a hillock well out of reach. The grey crows 

 flying and croaking over his head first called my attention to 

 him. Nothing is to be seen now but the top of his head and 

 the tips of his ears, as he lowers himself down gradually and 

 quietly the moment he sees me look in hi direction. But 

 my dog has got the scent ; and off he goes in a vain pursuit. 

 Tractable and well-broken as he is with regard to game, no 

 sooner does he perceive the inciting odour of a fox or otter, 

 than, heedless of call or threat, he is off in pursuit. Look 

 now ! away goes the fox at a quick but easy gallop, through 

 the swamp with his tail (Anglice brush) well up in the air. 

 A fox is always a great dandy about his brush ; and keeps it 

 free from wet and dirt as long as he possibly can : a sure 

 sign of poor Reynard beginning to feel distressed is his brush 

 appearing soiled and blackened. Ah ! the dog has got on 

 his scent again, and begins to press hard on his hated foe ; 

 but as I well know he has not the slightest chance against 

 the light-heeled fox, who is always in racing condition, 

 whereas the retriever, with his curly coat and good living, 

 will be blown before he has run a mile, I continue my walk. 

 Presently the dog returns panting like a porpoise ; and con- 

 scious of his irregular conduct, before he takes his usual 

 place at my side, stops behind a little while, wagging his 

 tail, and grinning in the most coaxing manner imaginable, 

 till he has examined my face with that skill in physiognomy 

 which all dogs possess : then seeing that I cannot help smil- 

 ing at him, he jumps boldly up to me, knowing that he is 

 forgiven. 



Occasionally a blackcock flys past us. These birds, a con- 

 siderable number of which frequent this wild region, sleep 

 every night in the highest and roughest heather they can find, 

 in order to guard against the attacks of the fox, who in his 

 hunting excursions seldom walks over that kind of ground, 

 preferring beaten tracks, or the edges of pools or marshes, 

 along which he can walk unheard and easily, till his acute 

 nose warns him of the vicinity of some prey ; whereas the 



