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CHAPTER II. 



" At length, one windeth where the wave hath left 

 The unguavdefl portals of the gorge, and there 

 Far-wandering halts ; and from a rocky cleft 

 Spreads his keen nostril to the whispering air ; 

 Then with trail'd ears, moves cowering o'er the ground, 

 The deep bay booming breaks : — the scent is fonnd." 



Bui.wEE Lttton. 



Although I may iKjt countenance, in this true re- 

 miniscence, tlie poetical licence of my friend, from 

 whose beautiful poem I take the above motto, wherein 

 he makes tlie hound own a scent after a tide has 

 liecn over it, I cannot help selecting the lines on 

 account of tlieir graceful expression. I have seen a 

 hound in my pack of stag-hounds feather on and over 

 the slot of a deer, though he did not speak to it, on 

 the day folk»wing that on which the deer had passed ; 

 but a tide would remove ever}^ vestige of the line, as 

 no hound could luint after it had receded. 



We now come to a period Adien the hounds de- 

 volved upon my brc»ther ]Moreton and myself, when 

 we made them stag-hounds exclusively, and adopted 

 the "tawny coats," in which hue the huntsmen of 

 the Lord r>erkele3'S alwaj^s rode. Smith, in his j\[S. 

 history of our femily, speaks of a Lord Berkeley who 

 used to keep his hounds at the vilhige of Charing, 

 with thirty huntsmen in tawny coats to attend upon 

 them. J\Iy father maintahied the orange, or jeliow, 

 or tawny plush for his hrmt. ]\[r. Combe, in re- 

 membrance of tlie name, called his hounds the " old 



