220 THE MASTER OF HOUNDS 



but kill Mistess' old gander and seven more wi un — her's 

 most gone mazed owing to't — so do ee plaise come up 

 Sir and gi 'em a rattle — they'm rale beauties, they em, 

 as ever you clapped your eyes on." 



Volumes could not tell us more than this letter tells 

 us of the views with which hunting was regarded by 

 the tillers and occupiers of the soil in Devon and 

 Somerset during the first half of the nineteenth century. 

 Nor did these views change during the close of the 

 nineteenth century, as I can testify from personal 

 experience. When I first lived at Porlock, which may 

 be regarded as the central point of the Devon and 

 Somerset country, and during my walks abroad, 

 exchanged greetings with the native agriculturists, 

 invariably the reply was, " Fine day for hunting." As 

 a rule, during my country strolls, I open the conversa- 

 tion with the native agriculturist by inquiring about 

 harvest prospects, but I discovered at Porlock that the 

 popular question to ask was, " How many ' warrant- 

 able' stags have you seen lately?" For a Master of 

 Hounds this Devon and Somerset country should have 

 been an ideal Utopia. The large landowners, such as 

 Sir Thomas Acland ; Mr. Knight, of Simonsbath ; Mr. 

 Nicholas Snow, Master of " The Stars of the West " ; 

 the Luttrell family of Dunster Castle ; and Sir Arthur 

 Chichester, were, without exception, staunch supporters 

 of sport. 



As a rule, it is foolish to inquire whence venison 



cometh — 



" For if by chance it stolen be, 

 A good belief sufficeth thee." 



