CHAPTER XXX. 



A WEEK WITH THE SOUTHDOWN. 



'' Now all amid the rigours of the year, 

 In the wild depth of winter, while without 

 The ceaseless winds blow ice, be my retreat 

 Between the groaning forest and the shore 

 Beat by the boundless multitude of waves ; 

 A rural, sheltered, solitary scene; 

 Where ruddy fire and beaming tapers join 

 To cheer the gloom. There fctudious let 

 Me sit," 



IND endeavour to give an account of a 

 capital week's sport with the Southdown 

 Foxhounds, over the breezy downs and 

 across the deep-riding lowlands, in pur- 

 suit of the wild and stout-running foxes which are 

 so abundant in the district hunted by this clever 

 pack. Between these spells of Arctic weather some 

 capital sport has been shown, notwithstanding the 

 extremely heavy state of the country, which has 

 brought many good men to grief, and caused several 

 severe accidents to well-known riders. There may 

 be different ideas as to the country over which the 

 Southdown perform, but there can be no two opinions 

 in respect to the excellence of this crack pack, or the 



