LETTER XXV. 269 



fellows who don't, what a confounded country this is to 

 live in!" A mere master of hounds, without being a 

 man of business also, could not have kept his ground for 

 two consecutive seasons, where I managed to fight on, 

 and with perfect success, for more than a quarter of a 

 century, fully alive to the tricks of keepers and their 

 masters as well. I contrived to meet them one way or 

 another, and the sport we had was so good, that many 

 vulpecides were fain to yield to that bugbear public opi- 

 nion, and preserve foxes in reality. A few genuine sports- 

 men we had; but, although their will was good, their num- 

 ber was very small. The farmers, however, as a body, 

 throughout the whole country, were trumps — they were, 

 generally, lovers of the sport, good riders, and staunch 

 friends to the hounds. Without them I never would have 

 attempted nor could I have held my ground. To many a 

 secret, touching fox-killers, I gained access through their 

 means, and a mutual good understanding always existed 

 between us. 



I called upon as many as I could during vacation time, 

 although our country was a wide one, and a hearty wel- 

 come always awaited me ; Jim, also, was a great favourite 

 with them, and could do what I never could, drink a few 

 glasses of strong beer, without being much the worse for 

 them. Many of our farmers were men of good pro- 

 perty, and some possessed fox coverts, in which a litter 

 of foxes was always bred — there was no fear of theea^ 

 being killed by keepers. To the extreme points I gene- 

 rally dispatched Jim, but this would not always answer 

 as well. The daughter of a farmer, who had a small 

 covert close adjoining the farm-yard, whose tenants (the 

 poultry) belonged to herself, sent me word one day that, 



