78 THOUGHTS ON HUNTING 



hound may not escape them ; let them be attentive to his halloo, and be 

 ready to encourage, or rate, as that directs ; he will, of course, draw up 

 the wind, for reasons which I shall give in another place. Now, if you can 

 keep your brother-sportsmen in order, and put any discretion into them, 

 you are in luck ; they more frequently do harm than good. If it be pos- 

 sible, persuade those who wish to halloo the fox off, to stand quiet under 

 the cover-side, and on no account to halloo him too soon : if they do, 

 he most certainly will turn back again. Could you entice them all into 

 the cover, your sport, in all probability, would not be the worse for it. 



How well the hounds spread the cover ! the huntsman, you see, is quite 

 deserted, and his horse, who so lately had a crowd at his heels, has not now 

 one attendant left. How steadily they draw ! you hear not a single hound ; 

 yet none are idle. Is not this better than to be subject to continual 

 disappointment, from the eternal babbling of unsteady hounds ? 



See ! how they range 

 Dispers'd, how busily this way and that 

 They cross, examining with curious nose 

 Each likely haunt. Hark ! on the drag I hear 

 Their doubtful notes, preluding to a cry 

 More nobly full, and swell'd with every mouth. SOMERVILLE. 



How musical their tongues ! and as they get nearer to him, how the 

 chorus fills ! Hark, he is found ! Now, where are all your sorrows, and 

 your cares, ye gloomy souls ! or where your pains and aches, ye complain- 

 ing ones ! one halloo has dispelled them all. What a crash they make ! 

 and echo seemingly takes pleasure to repeat the sound. The astonished 

 traveller forsakes his road, lured by its melody : the listening ploughman 

 now stops his plough ; and every distant shepherd neglects his flock, and 

 runs to see him break what joy, what eagerness, in every face ! 



How happy art thou, Man, when thou'rt no more 



Thyself ! when all the pangs that grind thy soul, 



In rapture and in sweet oblivion lost, 



Yield a short interval and cease from pain. SOMERVILLE. 



Mark how he runs the cover's utmost limits, yet dares not venture forth : 

 the hounds are still too near ! That check is lucky. Now, if our friends 

 head him not, he will soon be off. Hark, they halloo ! by G d he's gone. 



Hark ! what loud shouts 



Re-echo through the groves ! he breaks away : 

 Shrill horns proclaim his flight. Each straggling hound 

 Strains o'er the lawn to reach the distant pack. 

 'Tis triumph all, and joy. SOMERVILLE. 



Now, huntsman, get on with the head hounds ; the whipper-in will bring 



on the others after you : keep an attentive eye on the leading hounds, that, 



should the scent fail them, you may know at least how far they brought it. 



Mind Galloper, how he leads them ! It is difficult to distinguish which 



