A DISTINGUISHED STRANGER. 75 



" An odious man ! But is he really his cousin ? " 



" I think so. I remember poor Tom telling me he had one 

 of his stamp." 



"Hounds are moving off; just pull a bit on one side," he 

 continues. " Ah ! good morning, Mason," to the first whip 

 and kennel huntsman ; " so we are not going to keep up the 

 old custom." 



" No, my Lord, and there are a good many other old 

 customs being given up, 1 am sorry to say." 



The Hawthorn Dale is as good a pack as one could find 

 away from the ultra-fashionable countries, having been care- 

 full bred from Brocklesby and Belvoir blood for several 

 generations, showing plenty of bone and substance, and lots 

 of quality, too ; thanks also to " the race of Rutland and the 

 nose of Yarborough," they were able to run fast on a good 

 scenting day, and to work out a difiicult problem when the 

 mysterious agent is conspicuous by its absence. However, the 

 new Master being of opinion that " those crocky old packs " 

 are plaj^ed out, intends in future to breed on entirely new and 

 original lines. 



But they have by now got over the two mile trot to Tom- 

 tit wood, and with m^uch horn-blowing, whip-cracking, and 

 unearthly yelling, the Master is waving the pack into covert. 

 A young hound whimpers, and a hare dashes across the ride. 



" Ware hare ! Ware hare. Hopeful ! I'll draft that ugly 

 useless beast ! " roars the Master, unconscious that the hound 

 happened to be last season's prize-winner at the Puppy Show, 

 and usually very steady. A hare jumping up under her young 

 nose frightened her into giving tongue slightly. 



" Leu in there ! Yoi wind 'em, little bitches ! Get in there, 

 Stylish, get in ! " Styhsh takes no notice, but feathers down 

 the outside ditch, and then suddenly gives a scream of 

 delight. 



" Hoich ! Hoich to Stylish ! " now cries the Master, and 



