164 REMINISCENCES OF A HUNTSMAN. 



dew, and smelling so sweetly of the aroma of the wild 

 plants they had crushed in forcing their way through 

 the thickets at the brush of a fox. Every part of the 

 kennel reminded me of some beautiful favourite, 

 severed from me for ever, and for a time I hated the 

 sight of those lonely buildings. The worst of it was 

 yet to come. Though I had sold my hunting hounds, 

 and parted conditionally from the puppies, I could not 

 refrain from a desire to see them work in their new 

 country, said to be a better scenting country than 

 Bedfordshire, and, when cub-hunting began, at Mr. 

 Wilkins's suggestion I repaired to a lodging at Brig- 

 stock, near the kennel. I had not seen the hounds for 

 some months, and they were on their road to cover 

 when I came up, and overtook them. The air went the 

 wrong way for them to wind me, and as they seemed to 

 have no particular attachment to the men they were 

 Avith, but trotted rather behind the horse of the first 

 whipper-in than with their huntsman. Jack Stephens, 

 I joined Jack, and looked them over before they were 

 aware of my presence. I soon saw that flogging had 

 been the order of the day, for there were weals on the 

 coats of hounds who never had had a blow with me, 

 and never deserved it ; and a number of them that 

 used to trot along the road in an airy, bold manner, 

 now jogged along like culprits, head and stern 

 both down, looking as if they were sullenly going 

 mad, or going any where save to a free and joyous 

 chase : it was at once evident to me why Bribery, 

 the hound before alluded to, had run away. One 

 bitch in particular, a great favourite of mine, who 

 used to play with me, and understand me like a 

 parlour-dog, looked the very picture of sorrow ; and, 

 guessing the effect a word I used to use to her in 

 play would have on her, I let my horse walk out till 



