The Sport of Our <^ncestors 



on the way to the meet, and go staring through the gateways 

 and snuffing into the hedges. On a good scenting day 

 each Hound usually keeps his place on the road, and goes 

 solemnly to covert, looking neither to right nor left, as if 

 he were saving himself for a hard day. 



The covert you are going to draw is about fifty acres, 

 carpeted with bracken dotted with patches of blackthorn 

 and brambles, and sheltered by some old oaks and huge 

 whitethorn trees. It was formerly an open heath on either 

 side of the old London road, now overgrown with grass 

 and forming a middle ride for the covert. The acoustics 

 are so good this morning that Jim trots off from the meet to 

 take post at the lodge on the new London road, in case 

 the * old customer ' gets wind of the sport and steals away 

 too soon. The Hounds ' watch him off,' as the stage direc- 

 tions say, and then look up into your face, wondering why 

 you do not make a move. At last the stable-clock strikes 

 eleven. They seem so cocksure of finding that they could 

 be trusted to leave you where you are and draw the covert 

 themselves. But you do not give them the office until you 

 have crossed the park and are within a hundred yards of 

 the covert. The ladies and gentlemen take the carriage 

 drive, and you turn down the trig into the covert to join 

 your Hounds. The anticipation of hearing the first Hound 

 open can best be enjoyed alone with no one to bother you 

 about politics and all the other worries you have come out 

 to avoid. 



There is not a Hound to be seen. The leading Hounds 



46 



