The Foxhound. 91 



not be Inclined to appreciate the laudations bestowed 

 upon certain hounds in almost every pack. Hounds 

 run very much in one form, and a huntsman of, say, 

 forty years' experience might call up hounds to 

 his memory to number in the aggregate several 

 thousands, though in speaking of any exquisites he 

 will refer to two or three only that, according to his 

 idea, were incomparable. The faults of even good 

 foxhounds must be, therefore, numerous — far more 

 so, I expect, than the casual observer could detect, 

 as faultless hounds, it would appear, crop up in the 

 smallest proportions in the lifetime of a huntsman. 

 Mr. Osbaldeston was generally in a position to have 

 the best of hounds only, as in the heyday of his 

 career, at any rate, he had an immense pack, hunted 

 his own hounds six days a week, and, in the style in 

 which he rode over Leicestershire and other countries, 

 it can be fairly asserted that he was never separated 

 from them. It is said that he depended on his 

 hounds with a flying fox, speaking very little to 

 them, but observing all they did, and in strong gorse 

 he went in with them himself, and could make them 

 hunt like spaniels. With all this experience, though, 

 Osbaldeston had one hound out of the many he had 

 to do with, of which he would speak with exceptional 

 regard up to the very time of his death. I remember 

 it was told me that a friend met the veteran in a 



