HARES, AND HARE-HUNTING. 187 



very best time to end a good day's beagling is about four o'clock in the 

 afternoon, getting honie in good time for a batli and a well-earned dinner, 

 'I'hree or four hours of good sport is quite enough for most people, and if 

 the meet is earlier llian eleven in the forenoon, most beaglcrs have had quite 

 enough by two o'clock, and have a long, slack afternoon left on their hands, 

 which they hardly know how to pass. 



The usual time for the meets of the R.R.B. is i p.m., this hour being 

 convenient for business men. As we are rarely very long in finding a hare, 

 sufficient time is afforded for a good three hours of sport. It is true that 

 some of our runs are spoiled through scent failing with frost coming on at 

 nightfall, and also through waning light, but we must make the best of our 

 oi)portunities, and be thankful that, as a rule, our sport is good. 



'' O, ay ! Make up that : he is now at a cold scent. 



Sowter will cry upon't, for all this, tlioush it be as rank as a fox. 

 Did not I say. he would work it out ? The cur is excellent at faults." 



Twelfth Ni^ht, act ii, scene 5. 



At a check or fault, hounds are to he more readily believed than any 

 other source of information. If they "say "' the hare has gone this or that way, 

 it does not matter who saw it go another, it was probably a fresh hare. Of 

 course hounds may run heel a little, but it will not be far, as they soon 

 discover the mistake. It is inconceivable to us by what means hounds can 

 distinguish the direction in which scent has been laid. A man may see a 

 hare run along a furrow or a hedge-row for a hundred yards or more, then 

 double back exactly in the same line, and go off at right angles ; the hounds 

 will follow this out at speed ])recisely in the same way ; sometimes, when 

 scent is good, not even flashing over the point where the hare stopped, but 

 instantly turning and making good the double. Seeing this, without having 

 first seen the hare, would almost lead one to think they were running heel. 



Ah ! there she lies ; . . . . 



At distance draw thy pack ; let all ho hush'd ; 



No clamour loud, no frantic joy, be heard. 



Lest the wild hound run f^adding o'er the plain, 



Untractable, nor hear thy chiding voice. 



Now gently put her off; see how direct 



To her known mew she flies ! Here, huntsman, bring 



(But without hurry) all thy jolly hounds, 



And calmly lay them on. How low they stoop, 



And seem to plough the ground ! then all at once 



With greedy nostrils snuff the fuming steam 



That glads their flntt'ring hearts. As winds let loose 



They burst away, and sweep the dewy lawn. 



Hope gives them wings while she's spurr'd on by fear. 



The welkin rings ; men, dogs, hills, rocks, and woods. 



In the full concert join. Now my brave youths ! 



Stripp'd for the chase, give all your souls to joy. 



