248 DAYS OF DEER-STALKING. 



laid on the scent. For a long time, we could neither hear 

 nor discover the bay: at length we came suddenly upon it, 

 if bay it might be called. The dog had taken steaks from 

 the living haunches, after the fashion of Abyssinia, and 

 was already amazingly turgid. His name was Hannibal. 



" Expende Annibalem, quot libras in duce summo 

 Invenies." 



I gave him a pretty considerable drubbing for this his 

 luxurious propensity ; but even under the lash, it was some- 

 time ere 



" La bocca sollevo dal fiero pasto 

 Quel peccator." 



After this perpetration, I changed his name, by a very 

 easy transition, from Hannibal to Cannibal ; but Hannibal 

 or Cannibal, I never suffered him to pass the Scotch alps 

 with me a second time. 



There is an interesting story mentioned in the notes of 

 the " Lay of the Last Minstrel," taken from a manuscript 

 " History of the Family of St. Clair," which is so apposite 

 to this subject, that I cannot forbear transcribing it. 



It seems to prove that the chief reliance for sport was 

 formerly placed in the dogs, who were accustomed to pull 

 down and kill deer without any aid from the huntsmen ; 

 and that nobles, and even kings, prided themselves upon 

 the fleetness and courage of their hounds. 



" King Robert Bruce," says Augustin Hay (canon of St. 

 Ge'nevieve), " in following the chase upon the Pentland 

 Hills, had often started ' a white faunch deer,' which had 

 always escaped from his hounds ; and he asked his nobles, 

 who were assembled around him, whether any of them had 

 dogs which they thought might be more successful. No 

 courtier would affirm that his hounds were fleeter than 

 those of the king, until Sir William St. Clair of Roslin 

 unceremoniously said, that he would wager his head that 

 his two favourite dogs 'Help' and 'Hold' would kill the 

 deer before she could cross the march-burn. The king 

 instantly caught at the unwary offer, and betted the Forest 

 of Pentland- Moor against the life of Sir William St. Clair. 

 All the hounds were tied up, except a few ratches, or slow 



