THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 3 



" Bless'd if he ain't perfect symmetry! " 

 echoed the feeder, after a long and silent gaze. 



** 1 do think he is," added the huntsman, 

 emphatically. ** Or if he isn't, / can't see a 

 bad point in him." 



* * That shows what the walk will do, ' ' said 

 the feeder, an old grey-headed man, pointing 

 to four of our company. " Nobody would 

 believe those were of the same litter, didn't 

 they know it." 



But for this I should not have recognised 

 my brothers and sisters, who certainly bore a 

 very different appearance from that given of 

 me by the huntsman. As we appeared 

 strangers to each other, I at once made myself 

 known, and inquired after their health and 

 treatment since we last met. 



" Oh," replied one of my brothers, 

 snappishly, ** I was sent to the village ale- 

 house, where I had to pick up my own living, 

 and got more kicks than good will. I was 

 always in somebody's way, try as I did to 

 keep out of it; and the consequence is, I can't 

 run a mile without feeling as if my back's 

 broken. We don't always die on the day we 

 are killed," continued he. 



"As for me," said my other fraternal 



