HARE-HUNTING 107 



made his distant and unstopped earth ; and, 

 more rarely perhaps, the eternal craving 

 for " a run " was so great that a man 

 with a bag shook "something" out of it 

 in a lonely spot. Dear me ! I could tell 

 some tales. I have in my mind's eye 

 a day when my brother, with another 

 more famous master of harriers (now, like 

 some others, an M.F. H.), and myself were 

 beaten by the little hounds as they raced 

 away over the moors after an extraordin- 

 arily fine-smelling fox ; but I must check 

 myself, or my style will degenerate into that 

 of a fox-hunter's. 



After all, I have a conviction that many 

 a green-coated gentleman has a sneaking 

 sympathy with my sins and want of ortho- 

 doxy. If these lines meet the eye of any 



