A Day With the Genesee Valley Hounds IH 



spider phaeton to a breaking cart. Truant lads were there, 

 driving a village deliveiy wagon. Boys and girls who "did 

 not hear the bell ring," together with farm hands who had 

 hitched their plough horses to the fence, were hurrying away 

 to the crown of an adjacent hill, all speeding on as if by some 

 sweet frenzy seized and with the hope of viewing the chase 

 away. 



"Hark! On the drag I hear their doleful notes." 



Arri\qng at the Fitzhugh Wood, hounds are thrown off with 

 a cheer. The first wliipper-in has stationed himself where 

 best to view Reynard away. The second whipper-in has gone 

 in with the JNIaster and hounds. What prettier sight can any 

 one see on a fine autumn day, than a hard-working pack of 

 hounds, each in great eagerness to be the first to proclaim the 

 find? How they fling and drive, testing each clump of grass 

 for a particle of the evasive effluvia that Reynard may have 

 left in passing. 



Bartender is now seen madly feathering in the midst of a 

 tliicket, his "hackles" are on end as if about to speak. Seeing 

 this, the ]Master, who as usual is hunting his own hounds, cries 

 out, "Speak to it, Bartender, speak to it, good dog." Ring- 

 wood and Rally wood, hearing Bartender thus cheered on, rush 

 to liis side, for not only do the hounds know their own names 

 but the name of the other hounds as well. Again the JNIaster 

 encourages Bartender to speak to it, but the grand old hound 

 who cannot be made to tell a lie only mutters a wliimper and 

 passes on. 



So we all move slowly along. The delicate aroma of the 

 autumn wood, the falling leaves, the crackling twigs under 

 our horses' feet, all add immensely to the delights of the hour. 



The Fitzhugh covert having proved blank, we next try 

 the wood farther south. What a delightful ride from wood to 

 wood across the beautiful pasture fields, studded with great 

 spreading shade trees, that make it more a park than a pasture ! 



