FOXHUNTING. 85 



Incident of a hunting excursion when the steed 

 of her sire lost its shoes in that desperate foxhunt 

 on the Cheviots. A wild hallo we now hear in 

 the distance. The fox is holed at the Saughy 

 Crag. The terrier is in when we get forward, 

 the fox has been too hard run to bolt for fun, but 

 after two hours towzling he at last slips out and 

 up the crag, along the height, chops back, and 

 doubles like a hare, then over the braes through 

 the firs past Cottonshope Burn foot, the gallant 

 pack sticking to their fox like a brother, and 

 again run him to ground on Saughside, where 

 he has scarce room to hide, and we see some 

 grand battles in turns with niy nabs and the 

 terriers, the game little " Eock " (belonging to 

 that gallant sportsman, Mr William Hedley, of 

 Cottenshope Burn) gets a good snedding, so does 

 Flint, the celebrated terrier of the Byrness ; the dog 

 of Speethope Haugh has a long tug, too, but the 

 weaver gets a gliff and turns tail. In a twinkling 

 the fox bolts and on to the side of the Eeed, the 

 dogs on him full cry. See yon black and tan, 

 he's gaining on him every stride, there is a rush 

 of fox and hounds over the brae into the water. 

 It's a kill ; no, by Jove, it's a fair otter hunt. 

 The fox is out, so are the hounds. Wellington 

 is at him, and tumbles up his game. The various 

 incidents of this brilliant run were witnessed by 



