134 REMINISCENCES OF A HUNTSMAN 



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 Brigstock, 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 par- 

 ticular attachment to the men they were with, 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 anywhere 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 par- 

 ticular, 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 I came 

 near enough for her to hear me. In doing this, a busy whine 

 and brightening - up of the hounds that recognised me as I 

 passed, with a joyful bay or two, loudly repressed by Jack 

 Stephens as if there was no difference between a hound's 

 flinging his tongue for joy and babbling on a scent might be 

 heard : it had no effect, though, on the bitch under notice ; she 

 was too sad to heed anything but her forlorn situation. On 

 approaching the poor woe-begone thing, I let her hear the 



