274 REMINISCENCES OF A HUNTSMAN. 



I remeiiibcr it was a beautiful morning in August, 

 >Yith a nice fresh rustling breeze, when I went to kill 

 iny first buck at Whitley Riclge,— the train depositing 

 me at Brockenhurst station by eight o'clock in the 

 morning. Joseph Hall, the son of the keeper, at- 

 tended me, and we kept on the inside of the little 

 enclosures of cultivated land round the lodge to see if 

 the herd of bucks were anywhere within shot. The 

 fence of the enclosure forming a good screen, and 

 besides this, the deer, from often seeing people at work 

 in these fields, did not apprehend any danger from 

 them. We discovered the herd lying down in some 

 rushes between fifty and sixty yards from a rail in 

 the hedge, behind which we had crawled without 

 being observed, and tlience had an opportunity of 

 inspecting them. There were the heads and antlers 

 of several good aged bucks, tliat I could see at a 

 glance ; but as they were all lying down in rushes, 

 and about and under oak and thorn trees, and in 

 fern, it was impossible for me to judge which was the 

 fattest deer. Joseph Hall had a personal acquaint- 

 ance with every deer on his father's walk ; knew 

 their aires and their condition ; and had a name for 

 every one of the bucks ; such as " Stumpy," for a 

 deer who had lost part of his " single ; " " The General," 

 for the great buck who usually took the lead, and so 

 on ; but as this was my first visit to the walk on that 

 day I was not aware of how good a forester he was. 

 I asked him which was the best buck, and he at once 

 pointed him out lying sideways to me in the rushes, 

 with nothing but his neck, head, and antlers to be 

 seen, nodding away at the flies. A bare buck got up 

 and stood in the way, and then a black pig thrust his 

 snout into danger ; but at last every impediment was 



