266 Hunting Countries of England. 



day, he skirmishes at the double through the dark 

 dustclouds of the Long Valley. Breath has failedjhim 

 long ago. Were it left hiin, he could make no use for 

 it; for his tongue is swollen and dry, and black as 

 pariah dog's, while his lips retain as much life as an 

 old shoe. But the staff-hounds are raging fiercely on 

 his track — their hoarse voices ringing savagely into 

 ears. Though his heart sinks and his limbs almost 

 refuse to act, he must run on ; for, though it is pain 

 and misery to go forward, a worse fate awaits him if he 

 stops to be caught. 



But it is from Aldershot that Mr. Garth's field is^ 

 chiefly recruited ; and the soldiers go out with him 

 gratefully on his good ground and his worse — thankful 

 that they can see a grand pack of hounds at work, 

 even though the arena be not always such as will do 

 them justice. Reading, however, would probably be 

 found the best immediate base for a visitor. It com- 

 mands the best of Mr. Garth's, and the best of the 

 South Berkshire. It is less than an hour's journey 

 from London ; and the nine o'clock train from Pad- 

 dington Station brings very many of the good meets 

 of either pack within distance on the morning of 

 hunting. 



Mr. Garth has rough places to hunt over — heather 

 wild as Exmoor, and fir woods fit to harbour red-deer. 

 Indeed, the wild stag might be allowed to roam 

 between Aldershot and Windsor, and be trusted to do 

 no more harm than on the Hills of Devon and 

 Somerset. What an opening for a grand sport ! Mile 

 upon mile of forest ground are now of scant use for 

 hounds — or even for the gun. Most of it is Govern- 



