THE LIFE OF A FOXHOUND. 187 



" and let the puppies see the old hounds feel 

 for the scent." 



No sooner were we in the field spoken of by 

 Tom Holt, than, stooping my nose to the 

 ground, I inhaled that scent, which, from 

 the first, sent my blood tingling through my 

 whole body. Several began to hustle, push, 

 and fling themselves about, and one, named 

 Harbinger, threw his tongue. 



" So-oftly, Harbinger, so-oftly," said 

 Will. " You're as noisy as ever, I see." 



" He's incorrigible," replied the Squire. 

 " Put him away." 



" We shall cure him after a few more 

 trials, sir, I hope," rejoined the huntsman, 

 who could never bear to have one of us 

 destroyed. 



*' He should have been cured before this," 

 rejoined his master, " and if not removed, he 

 will render others as bad as himself. I hate 

 a noisy hound," continued he, " and I'm 

 certain no drilling will stop Harbinger from 

 riot and babbling. There is no vice so con- 

 tagious and injurious as the one he possesses 

 and persists in; and to use further forbear- 

 ance in retaining him in the pack would be 

 most unwise. You know, last season, that 



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