514 FOX-HOUND, FOREST, AND PRAIRIE. 



were upon his trail. He had lain down within the Inclosure — 

 hence the momentary, friendly delay — and now they were away 

 at his very heels. 



Monday's sport, let me assert now, was altogether of a typical 

 kind, complete in every detail — to wit, a splendid deer to begin 

 with, a quick find, then a capital scent, a rideable country (grass 

 and heather for hoofbeat), forty-eight minutes' hard galloping 

 with only two trifling checks, and, to end with, a handsome kill 

 in the open ! How could you better it — as a sample of noble 

 wild sport ? And this, too, remember, in August — a month that 

 in the south is held to belong to tiller, tarpaulin and serge, in the 

 north to trigger and rod, while the riding-man may rust as he 

 best can. Here's the prescription, and here the solvent — under 

 which the rust will wear off and the joints move suppley, by 

 which the blood-current can be set going and the liver of sloth be 

 roused ! For 'tis Forard Aivay through the green -carpetted 

 forest — fourteen couple, or thereabouts, driving hard under the 

 hanging timber, plain to be seen, easy to be followed, through 

 the thin undergrowth — but flinging their tongues the while only 

 casualty, for, if my scattered but repeated experience goes for 

 anything, hounds seldom throw their voices very freely upon 

 deer, whether carted or wild. The holly-bushes below, and 

 the beech-boughs above were but slender hindrance through 

 the old forest. Yet I thanked my stars earnestly, as we swung 

 through Whistley Wood, that on this occasion my mount was 

 within Galloway standard and was ready to be checked, twisted 

 and turned as bush or bough demanded. And I thanked the 

 forest authorities, too (the oberjager above mentioned especially), 

 from my very heart, that, where the woodcarts had left deep 

 tracks and our forelegs pitched into what seemed nothing but 

 quagmire, the saving faggots gave a foothold at bottom, and we 

 went on our way without fall or overreach. The Charcoal- 

 burners' camp was passed ; and the great Inclosures drained by 

 the Lymington River were ahead, when a bevy of boys and men, 

 apparently on some bachelor picnic — possibly one of those 

 plausible junkettings solemnised under the name of reading- 



