BREEDS 227 



never intended them for such rough Highland 

 work, where the thickets are like so many chevaux 

 defriscy and the thorns tear like the spinifex of the 

 Australian deserts. A pack I used to run after, 

 when hunting in Dorsetshire, were more in keeping 

 with the surroundings. In woods where the tall 

 Scotch firs rose clean as cathedral columns, with a 

 soft carpeting, in brown and green, of needles and 

 lichens, over rough heath and tussocky grass, en- 

 closed by ditches and turf banks, you could keep 

 the chase in view almost from start to finish. 



In such a country and in the home woods, you 

 may do as you please and there is no fear of 

 trouble. But if you — or at least, your father — 

 are not, like Robinson Crusoe, monarch of all you 

 survey, you must remember that there is a law 

 of trespass. Farmers will not always sympathise 

 with your sporting tastes, and they have a pre- 

 judice against having their hedges broken or their 

 spring wheat trampled down. But on the whole 

 they are good fellows, kindly to boys, and a great 

 deal may be done by civility, if you solemnly 

 promise to do them no harm. It is well to take 

 precautions beforehand, and rubbing down a rough- 

 spoken farmer the right way is excellent practice 

 in diplomacy. If you don't, your beagles will 

 assuredly land you in grief, and I have heard of 

 cases where the enthusiastic huntsmen have been 

 collared and cudgelled. It was rough justice, but 

 bringing actions for assault seriously adds to the 

 expenses of a pack. 



