NOTES BY THE WAY 143 



fox will be back before night, though the sports- 

 man's patience seldom holds out that long. 



The hound is a most interesting dog. How sol- 

 emn and long-visaged he is, — how peaceful and 

 well-disposed! He is the Quaker among dogs. All 

 the viciousness and currishness seem to have been 

 weeded out of him; he seldom quarrels, or fights, 

 or plays, like other dogs. Two strange hounds, 

 meeting for the first time, behave as civilly toward 

 each other as two men. I know a hound that has 

 an ancient, wrinkled, human, far-away look that 

 reminds one of the bust of Homer among the Elgin 

 marbles. He looks like the mountains toward which 

 his heart yearns so much. 



The hound is a great puzzle to the farm dog; the 

 latter, attracted by his baying, comes barking and 

 snarling up through the fields bent on picking a 

 quarrel; he intercepts the hound, snubs and insults 

 and annoys him in every way possible, but the 

 hound heeds him not: if the dog attacks him he 

 gets away as best he can, and goes on with the trail ; 

 the cur bristles and barks and struts about for a 

 while, then goes back to the house, evidently think- 

 ing the hound a lunatic, which he is for the time 

 being, — a monomaniac, the slave and victim of one 

 idea. I saw the master of a hound one day arrest 

 him in full course, to give one of the hunters time 

 to get to a certain runway; the dog cried and 

 struggled to free himself, and would listen neither 

 to threats nor caresses. Knowing he must be hun- 

 gry, I offered him my lunch, but he would not 



