Where to Hunt. 409 



annals of fox-hunting as the home of such famous masters of hounds and huntsmen as 

 the late Chaworth Musters, Percy Williams, and Squire Foljambe. The Rufford and the 

 Grove are very far from first-class, but picturesque, romantic, and rare for cub-hunting. 

 Buckinghamshire, Oxfordshire, and Gloucestershire, in which two noblemen maintain hereditary 

 packs, Wiltshire, with its Vale of the White Horse, all afford flying countries and grand 

 sport. In North Devon all the niceties of ancient woodcraft come into play ; riding hard 

 is impossible, but an earl, representative of a long line of sportsmen, kills his full share of 

 foxes secundum artetn, with the assistance of a field of farmers and parsons on different hills, 

 hollaing every time they view the chase. Many of these are competent to hunt a pack of 

 hounds in Devonshire. 



In Surrey and the greater part of Hampshire jumping is optional. Surrey has several 

 packs of hounds, some of which afford sport in the woodlands and others on the hills. 

 The latter would be pretty good if two-thirds of the coverts were destroyed, and the flints 

 removed from the fields. A beginner in London cannot do better than become a subscriber 

 and try his 'prentice hand with the Surrey Fox-hounds, or with one of the Kentish packs. 

 Near Ashford there is an extraordinary bit of " Leicestershire " grass. The Old Berkeley, 

 in Hertfordshire, has long been sadly deficient in foxes, which have been eaten up by pheasants, 

 but it is easily reached from London within less than two hours. 



But after all there is only one good rule for the learner. Take the nearest hounds, as 

 long as you do not take a fashionable pack where the field is counted by hundreds — with 

 such there is nothing to be learned. If there is a choice, bad scenting countries and countries 

 scarce of foxes are to be avoided. Better to hunt a good hare than a bad fox. Ten times 

 more is to be learned on the Lincolnshire wolds, with the small fields of country gentlemen 

 and farmers, or in Nottinghamshire, or with such packs as the Fitzwilliam (The Milton), 

 near Peterborough, one of the best in the kingdom, and one of the best countries of grass, than 

 in the mobs that take possession of the fashionable counties. 



It should be clearly understood that some of the very best packs of hounds hunt very 

 unfashionable counties, because the character of a pack depends not on the country, but on 

 the intelligence and zeal of master and huntsman. Breeding a pack of hounds is a rare and 

 difficult art. No money can improvise a good pack of hounds. The best huntsman is lost 

 with a new pack in a new country. 



"GO HARK!" 



" Yon sound 's neither sheep bell nor bark ; 

 They're running, they're running, Go Hark! 

 The sport may be lost by a moment's delay, 

 So whip up the puppies and scurry away. 

 Dash down through the cover by dingle and de!!, 

 There 's a gate at the bottom, I know it full well ; 

 And they're running, they're running, Go Hark! 



"They're running, they're running, Go Hark! 

 One fence and we 're out at the park. 

 Sit down in your saddles, and race at the brook, 

 Then smash at the bullfinch ; no time for a look. 

 Leave cravens and skirters to dangle behind. 

 He's away for the moors in the teeth of the wind, 

 And they're I'unning, they're running, Go Hark! 

 AAA 



