248 REMINISCENCES OF A HUNTSMAN. 



But Syria's beam cannot relume 



Her daughter's lustrous eyes, 



Nor reawaken from the tomb 



An innocence that dies. 



Then, stranger ! thus once more I crave 



Thy pity to retain ; 



Thou wilt not Injure Zellle's grave, 



Nor break her rest ag.ain ? " 



While writing these Memoirs, almost every day- 

 adds to the anecdotes of field and forest ; and yes- 

 terday, the 2 2d of August, 1853, my bloodhound, 

 Druid, distinguished himself. He had crossed the 

 line of a wary deer, a buck I was sure, by the slot, 

 who, waiting not to be found, was ofi" when he heard 

 my voice in the distance. We followed this deer 

 for some miles, but he had been gone so long, and 

 the scent was so bad, — rain in the air approaching, 

 — that Druid and myself alike gave him up, and 

 drew for another. We then came on the fresh 

 slot of a doe in Homesley enclosure, and in a few 

 moments more I heard an angry yell from Druid, 

 such as he gives when in thick furze he comes on a 

 deer in the lair, and then the roar of his tongue told 

 me that the deer was on foot. I found this doe at 

 two o'clock, run her for some time in and around 

 Homesley enclosure, and then away back to Wotton 

 enclosure, where we had come on the line of the first 

 deer. For the last two miles, or upwards, Druid 

 had not been able to speak to the scent more than 

 once or so in every twenty minutes, and he only held 

 the line of the deer by, keeping to a foot's pace, and 

 questing every twig and fern-top by which the deer 

 passed. It was impossible to assist him ; and no- 

 thing could be more perfect than the way in which 

 he constantly returned to the last point where he had 



