OBSERVATIONS ON SCENT 61 



him what he asked instead of it. This went on very well for some time, 

 till at last the huntsman desired an audience. ' Your grace,' said he, ' is 

 very generous, and gives me more than ever I got from field-money in my 

 life ; yet I come to beg a favour of your grace that you would let me take 

 field-money again ; for I have not half the pleasure now in killing a fox that 

 I had before.' 



As you ask my opinion of scent, I think I had better give it you before 

 we begin on the subject of hunting. I must, at the same time, take the 

 liberty of telling you, that you have puzzled me exceedingly ; for scent is, 

 I believe, what we sportsmen know least about ; and, to use the words of a 

 great classic writer i 



Hoc sum contentus, quod etiam si quo quidque fiat ignorem, quid fiat intelligo. 1 Cic. deDiv. 



Somerville, who, as I have before observed, is the only one that I know 

 of who has thrown any light on the subject of hunting, says, I think, but 

 little about scent. I send you his words : I shall afterwards add a few of 

 my own. 



Should some more curious sportsmen here inquire, 



Whence this sagacity, this wond'rous power 



Of tracing step by step or man or brute ? 



What guide invisible points out their way 



O'er the dank marsh, bleak hill, and sandy plain ? 



The courteous Muse shall the dark cause reveal. 



The blood that from the heart incessant rolls 



In many a crimson tide, then here and there 



In smaller rills disparted, as it flows 



Propell'd, the serous particles evade, 



Thro' th' open pores, and with the ambient air 



Entangling mix. As fuming vapours rise, 



And hang upon the gently-purling brook, 



There, by the incumbent atmosphere compress'd. 



The panting chase grows warmer as he flies, 



And thro' the net-work of the skin perspires ; 



Leaves a long steaming trail behind ; which by 



The cooler air condens'd, remains, unless 



By some rude storm dispers'd, or rarefied 



By the meridian sun's intenser heat. 



To every shrub the warm effluvia cling, 



Hang on the grass, impregnate earth and skies. 



With nostrils opening wide, o'er hill, o'er dale 



The vig'rous hounds pursue, with ev'ry breath 



Inhale the grateful steam, quick pleasures sting 



Their tingling nerves, while they their thanks repay, 



And in triumphant melody confess 



The titillating joy. Thus, on the air 



Depend the hunter's hopes. 



I cannot agree with Mr. Somerville, in thinking that scent depends on 



* l I am content with this : that even if I do not know how everything arises, I know 

 what it becomes. 



