176 THE FOGY DAYS AND NOW ; 



ugh-oph-oph-ya-rah-oph-opb-iigh-ugh," and notes impossible to 

 spell in the English Language, or for the science of music to 

 coniine to it its limited staff and bars. Now the chorus swells 

 out o'er hill and dale, with its prolonged and softened echoes, a 

 music wild, wierd and heavenly. I imagine it to be a fore- 

 taste, a sort of type of when, in the milleniura, the angels shall 

 come down to chase the devils out of a sin freed world. Oh, 

 the extacies of an old-time fox hant. 



The dogs are off, and the hunters close behind, yelling en- 

 couragement to the eager pack, leaping logs, gullies and fences. 

 Now they turn up the banks of the Keowee, and now their 

 quickened cry tells us plainly they have got him on the run. 

 Now they turn again at the fork, and up Little River, and now 

 they leave the stream and make for the Dry Pond, and on 

 toward the Ramsey place ; there they turn up Seneca creek, 

 cross over and down the other side. We cross the creek and 

 wait; here comes the fox in a few feet of us, he bounces like 

 an India rubber ball, seemingly confident, and at each jump 

 his tail flies from the ground high over his back ; the dogs pass 

 us well bunched, and wild with the excitement, as they see us 

 watching them, and five lusty throats gave the genuine fox- 

 whoop with a will; now they head round Sloan's mill-j^ond, and 

 on down to the Earle place; here reynard tries several dodges, 

 but the dogs push him too close, and he resorts to the cow-pen 

 ti-ick — in amongst the cattle. As the dogs come up the cows 

 bellov/ and show fight. This brings confusion for a little while, 

 but the dogs circle wide to avoid the cattle, and soon Heck and 

 Bailey strike the trail again, and all the balance of the pack 

 fall quickly into line. Now back to the mill pond, where he 

 tries to loose them in the hurricane thicket, but they soon 

 scare him out, and back to the Ramsey place, where he tries 



