132 Hark Away. 



Bellew to spend a day or two at Rliyl, I had the op- 

 portunity of seeing the home of a Devonshire sqnire ; 

 and, installed in these hospitable quarters, I passed a 

 most pleasant and enjoyable time. Within a short 

 distance of the house are the kennels of the Dul- 

 verton Foxhounds, of which my host is master and 

 huntsman. Asked if I would like to ride with the 

 hounds, and being offered a mount on a first-class 

 animal, I found myself careering to cover with the 

 squire, Mrs. Froude Bellew (one of the boldest, best, 

 and most graceful riders I have ever seen), and 

 Captain Marshall, the three forming the " field." 

 " Halloo, in there ! " is the cry of our huntsman, as 

 we approach a patch of gorse on the hillside, at the 

 bottom of which flows the Barle through the lovely 

 valley at our feet. In an instant a whimper is 

 heard. 



" Have at him, there ! " cries the squire. Then a 

 musical chorus, and away goes a fine old fox over 

 the heather-clad hills with this clever pack at his 

 brush. Then we race him away until he crosses the 

 Barle, mounts the hill on the opposite side, the 

 hounds hunting him by themselves until the master 

 can get to them. Away we go, and finally run him 

 down to ground in a cover, digging him out, and 

 breaking him up. After this merry spin, we draw 

 the gorse on the banks of the river, where, in a very 

 short space of time, we drive a fox away, who leads 

 us a lively dance over the moorland, across the hills, 

 down the dales, through the woods, and over the 

 brawling brooks, going in the direction of Withy- 

 pool. When approaching this lovely httle village 

 i^e doubles back, and is run to ground, dug out, and 



