CHAPTER IX. 



TVITH THE DEVOX AND SOMERSET STAGHOUNDS. 



jPROUSE ye, then, my merry, merry men ; 

 this is om- opening day," were the words 

 of a popular chorus that came across my 

 mind as I jumped from my bed at the 

 call of the " neat-handed Phillis " who I had desired 

 to awaken me at the ghastly hour of six, that I 

 might, by rising at that early period of the morning, 

 be in readiness for a sixteen-mile ride to cover, the 

 occasion being the first meet of the season of the 

 celebrated pack of staghounds that hunt the wild 

 red deer over the heather-clad hills in the vicinity of 

 Exmoor, and across the tracks of wild uncultivated 

 land which are still happily to be found in the most 

 beautiful of all counties in England, viz., Devon and 

 Somerset. 



Tired with the pleasures of London, I determined 

 to make my way to Dulverton, and to commence the 

 season with a few days' hunting in this lovely 

 " country," the only place in England where the red 

 deer is to be found in its wild and natural state, and 

 which affords an opportunity of seeing these noble 

 and majestic animals amidst the wild and beauti- 

 ful scenery where they delight to roam. Having 

 pleasant recollections of my former visit, and of the 



