i84 ECHOES OF OLD COUNTY LIFE. 



" Reynard," and freely admit that no pleasure is so 

 great as a meet on a fine day at the covert-side. There 

 with a cheery word for all, is the gallant master, a 

 country gentleman living on his own estate, dispensing 

 the hospitality of the district, his house the rendezvous 

 of all true sportsmen ; the squire's lady and the family 

 beloved by the villagers, and ingratiating themselves with 

 the residents in the district. There, representatives of the 

 peerage and other sporting gentry have plenty to say to 

 the farmers and riding tradesmen of the nearest towns ; 

 mutual admiration of each other's horses and opinions 

 as to their merits freely pass, and a recounting of noted 

 runs in which either played a prominent part forms a 

 plentiful source of conversation. At length the hounds 

 are put into cover, till first a whimper, then a challenge 

 from an old hound, and the stentorian cry of the hunts- 

 man, with " Tally-ho ! Gone away ! " echoes through 

 the wood, a rattling run of fifty minutes, the fox pulled 

 down fairly in the open, and every one who had a 

 chance of getting away and maintaining his place good, 

 exults in the success of the day : probably another 

 covert is drawn, and another fox found, is either lost 

 or is run to ground ; and then men quietly jog home, 

 highly gratified with their day's sport. Well, that is 

 a pleasant picture ; but now look at the reverse one, 

 and it is no exaggeration to say it is of constant 

 occurrence, even in the best of countries. Instead of 

 a fine cheery morning, a raw cold mist ; a ride about 

 the covert-side in a deep clay district, while the thick 

 haze turns to a cold drizzle. The hounds draw blank ! 

 What is to be done now .'' Another covert is two miles 



