THE NOBLE SCIENCE. 183 



But where was that gemman in pink, 



Who swore at his tail we should look, 

 Not in the next parish, I think, 



For he never got over the brook." 



Hunting Song. 



This attempt at the description of a run, is intended 

 to convey an idea of the average sport which may be 

 obtained with a good pack of hounds in a provincial 

 country, straight, from nine to twelve miles in distance ; 

 time, from fifty-five minutes to an hour and ten minutes, 

 supposing the scene of action to differ as widely as pos- 

 sible from the metropohtan districts. Had it been laid 

 in the most favourable parts, we must have given the 

 hounds credit for completely beating off all but a very 

 chosen few, in the burst ; and also for having had time to 

 make their own cast, should they overrun or lose the 

 scent by casualty — before the huntsman could come up 

 to interfere with them. I am supposing, of course, a 

 really good scent, when hounds will beat the best horse 

 that ever was foaled. In this case, the huntsman (having 

 been, if he has kept his proper place, as forward as any 

 one could be, if not quite first) will be able to see how 

 far they carry the scent ; and, in rendering his assistance, 

 will not be tied down to precisely the same line of con- 

 duct which he was bound to pursue over a country 

 where patience is his best auxiliary. There hounds may 

 be working on the line, over soil which will not carry a 



