342 THE POST AND THE PADDOCK, 



forget the redoubtable Jack Musters. Hunting was 

 his study and delight, and no man knew more about 

 it. He was as much alive to the wiles of a fox as he 

 was quick in discovering the sagacity of a hound. 

 When his fox was beat, and began to play tricks, no 

 man was so patient, so quiet, or ever killed more 

 often after a run. He had the knack of keeping 

 their heads down ; as he well knew, if once they got 

 them up, by hallooing and lifting, he never could 

 get them down again, which is the cause of being so 

 often beat after a fine run. He was a capital horse- 

 man, though rather too heavy for the first flight, but 

 he was always there when wanted, and never upset 

 his horse. As to the condition of his hounds we will 

 not say much. He did not like to let his capital lie 

 dead, and did not lay in a stock of meal, whereby 

 their coats stared, and they were not up to the mark. 

 The best evidence of his knowledge and judgment 

 was that, although he was for ever changing his 

 hounds, he always, after a time, had them good. 

 He had a happy method of making them fond of 

 him, and he made them do what he liked. In short, 

 he was at the very top of his profession a very 

 senior wrangler in the science. 



Talking of wild hounds, perhaps there never was 

 a pack so thoroughly wild as that of the late Lord 

 Fitz William's, about forty -five years ago. They never 

 were known to hold a scent for half a mile. They 

 were noisy in the extreme, either with or without 

 scent; they forced and flew, and had every fault 

 which hound ever possessed. Added to this, they 

 were so fat that, had they been as steady as they 

 were the contrary, they could never have killed a 

 good fox. The establishment was splendid in the 

 extreme. The stud was magnificent, being chiefly 

 drafted from the racing stable, and they had every- 

 thing which money could furnish, except sport: 

 utter want of knowledge in Will Dean, the hunts- 



