520 FOX-HOUND, FOREST, AND PRAIRIE. 



We have found a new use for the whistler's throat-pipe — the 

 tube with which Mr. Jones of Leicester enabled a roarer to 

 breathe freely. At the present moment many an old favourite, 

 ■who might long ago have been consigned to the kennels, is still 

 carrying his master over the Shires, and remaining a useful 

 member of the stable — though blowing a clarion-note through 

 the metal pipe in his larynx. But the new application thereof 

 is so simple and apparently effective, it would be the height of 

 selfishness to limit its adoption to the one person yet benefited. 

 The proprietor, then, of one of these mocking-bird quadrupeds 

 went into a certain farmhouse to refresh — the occasion being 

 this morning when hounds had turned homeward, and the 

 host, being landlord, had a private and sufficiently-stocked cup- 

 board on the premises. The rider, his duty done, issued to 

 remount. The ploughman held the tubular one by the head, 

 but succeeded in backing him into a barrow. Whereupon 

 Mr. Foreman — the best of good fellows and as fond of fox- 

 hunting as Tom Moody himself — hastened to the rescue. But 

 old Blowhard wouldn't stand still — not a bit of it — though 

 Mr. Foreman spoke soothingly and Proprietor roared im- 

 patiently. With Foreman as pivot, Blowhard went round and 

 round, and Proprietor danced wrathfully after. The situation 

 was perplexing, and threatened to be prolonged until lunch 

 time — till a sudden and happy thought struck into the idle 

 brain of one alongside, and took root. " Look at his neck 

 beneath the jaw," quoth he to the perspiring Foreman. "Don't 

 you see the metal mouthpiece ? Whistle into it ! " There was 

 no gainsaying the staid suggestion. Foreman glanced upwards 

 but could catch no suspicion of a smile — so gravely he rounded 

 his lips and whistled softly down the tube. "Now's your 

 time ! Whistle louder ! " — as the would-be rider made another 

 fruitless shot at his stirrup. Louder he whistled — fairly taking 

 old Blowhard by storm, and forcing him to stand still for very 

 astonishment. Up jumped the pleased proprietor — and all ye 

 who happen to have a fractious favourite with a perforated 

 throat are welcome to the wrinkle thus given. 



