20 Seventy Years a Master. 



been my life's great hobby, and it has indeed 

 been to me a work of love. Yes, that is no 

 exaggeration. Every hound in that pack, I 

 verily believe, loved me, as I loved them. 



My father saw a great deal of sport with 

 them, and he and his old friend, Mr. Wells, 

 rode to them in many a good gallop. Speak- 

 ing of Mr. Wells reminds me of a tale my 

 father used to tell. One day they were out 

 together, looking for a hare as usual, and 

 my father found her. '' Tantara ! " he called, 

 for he was a stickler for the old-fashioned 

 etiquette of the field, and *' Tally-ho ! " was 

 rarely heard in those days. 



N , Mr. Wells' whipper-in, was one of 



those clever people who think they know 

 everything. Eeally he knew very little, but 

 he was never too modest to ask. He rode 

 up. 



"What was that you called, sir?" he 

 asked. 



" Tantrebowbus, Tantrebowbus, my lad," 

 was the answer he got from the governor. 



