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the whip, the Colonel thought he must have viewed the 

 running hounds. This, however, was not the case. I viewed 

 the body of the pack take their fox (which was only 150 

 yards ahead of them) up to Midhill Gorse. Galloping down 

 the road, the field met the hounds coming down into West 

 Finlayston, and here "Mr. Fox," as the writer of "Happy 

 Thoughts" calls him, had a narrow squeak for it, as they 

 were just at his brush. He managed, however, to give 

 them the slip, and went away by Burnside over Barscube Hill, 

 a regular pumper. Squires had a cropper here. His horse 

 put his foot in a hole, stumbled, and the old gentleman rolled 

 off, I am happy to say, without injury. While he was down, 

 the Colonel offered to wait for him, but the old man, with 

 his usual pluck, cried out, "Go on, Colonel; it will take you 

 all your time to catch 'em." Going down the hollow there 

 was some slow hunting, and a party from Paisley, on a " woe 

 begone" jade, which looked as if he felt unhappy outside the 

 knacker's yard, pressed the hounds. Squires cried out to him, 

 " If you have a wife and family, for goodness' sake don't go so 

 near my hounds, as, if you do, they will eat both your horse 

 and yourself." But Mr. Graham's keeper hollo'd them on, and, 

 going up through Muirtown, they ran him into Elphinstone. 

 It is a question if they did not change foxes here. One 

 broke as if for Clives, but, being headed, went back, and 

 breaking at the same point, went up to the above-mentioned 

 covert. Mr. Durham Kippen (who had a fall in the run, but, 

 luckily, was not hurt) viewed him, and informs me that he 

 thinks it was not the run fox that went on. The Colonel, 

 however, tells me he is inclined to think that they must have 

 changed in Elphinstone, as he viewed a fox dead beat before 

 the hounds, and told the whip to be sure and stop them if 

 they got on to the fresh fox. As bad luck would have it, 

 however, the hounds slipped out at the east corner, and raced 

 their fox back through Muirtown to ground at Clives. This 

 was as fine an hour and a quarter as these hounds have had 

 this year, and the scent was wonderful over every sort of 

 ground. A word of praise is due to Mr. Hay, the Finlayston 



