I SMELL A FOX ! 333 



at the idea of his being the father of puppies. It is 

 a shrub called the tree St. John's wort that smells 

 like a fox, and induces the ignorant to utter such 

 exclamations. I encourage the shrub round my 

 house, as it is very hardy, and ground game will not 

 touch it, and it affords me an opportunity to illustrate 

 the mistake, in regard to the smell of a fox, to men 

 who have committed it. 



During the month of July, 1853, when the deer 

 were getting very scarce, under leave from the Crown, 

 I was very glad to get any gentleman to accompany 

 me in search of them, as two or three guns attending 

 on Druid's efforts were better than one, the more so 

 as it permitted me to aid the hound in drawing and 

 running. j\[r. Boultbee, as well as Mr. Calvert, who 

 were quartered with their troops of the Royal Horse 

 Artillery at Christchurch Barracks, were just the 

 active aids I wanted, and were very fond of the 

 amusement. Mr. Boultbee was frequently out with 

 me, and I am happy to say that, unlike ninety-nine 

 men out of a hundred calling themselves sportsmen 

 in the present day, he really understood all arts of 

 woodcraft, and was safe to be entrusted with a horn, 

 either to call the hound or to make me understand at 

 a distance what was happening. To entrust a young 

 sportsman with a horn is the greatest compliment 

 that can be paid him : to an infinity of old ones whom 

 I know, all that I could conscientiously offer them 

 would be a cork to stop up their mouths, to prevent 

 them too-tooing on their obnoxious wind instrument, 

 deceiving the hounds, or mystifying and deafening 

 their hearers. The horn, the flute, and the fiddle 

 (I am now carrying my Reminiscences from the field 

 to the drawing-room of the fair sex, and I assure 



