SCIENCE OF FOXHUNTING. 295 



Where shall we find a hare, Mr. Stubbs ?" appealing 

 to an old farmer of the old type. 



" Sure to be one or two in our swedes, sir, or 

 t'other side of the hedge, in that piece of fallow." 



"Where first, farmer?" 



" Fallows, if you please, sir, being the most likely 

 ground," with a knowing wink of his eye. 



" Ah, yes ! I understand. Lead the way and 

 open the gate for us." 



The field show their wish to assist the master by 

 crossing the fallows at certain distances from each 

 other, although probably not half a dozen out of 

 the five-and-twenty horsemen would discover a hare 

 in her form upon ploughed land. No matter all 

 take their turn about ; and at the third turn up 

 rises the timid at the extreme end of the line of 

 march, and furthest from the huntsman. A hulla- 

 baloo ensues, every man shouting or squeaking 

 according to the powers of his vocal organ. Away 

 scamper the pack, heads up and tails down, in 

 view of their game; dash into a hedgerow, the 

 boundary of the parish road, and over it into the 

 opposite field, where they appear in the middle of it, 

 with heads up and tails up too, looking about them 

 as if they expected another view. 



" Hang it," exclaims the huntsman, " this comes 

 of all that confounded hallooing." 



"Why don't you make your cast, then?" cries 

 Tom Headstrong, upon a pulling steeplechaser. 



" Casts be d ," retorts the excited master, " no 



hounds will throw up at head when there's a scent 

 before them ; they have been pressed beyond it." 



