r A SPORTING TRIP TO FRANCE. 217 



some ten or eleven of them who had their cors 

 de chasse with them, which they played most 

 beautifully together. 



With these gentlemen we went, the rest of 

 us smoking our pipes and cigars, to the brow 

 of the hill, where they commenced playing the 

 Rappel de danger ; we were afraid the wolves 

 would get at the dogs. I never recollect any- 

 thing more beautiful, for they played well. The 

 snow stopped as they began, the moon came 

 out bright and glorious, and the horns sent 

 their echoes far into the extensive forest. In 

 vain did we listen to hear the baying of hounds, 

 no sound reached our attentive ears. Again 

 and again did they play, call after call ravished 

 iny ear (I never, before or since, thought cors 

 de chasse music). The Bien oiler, Halali, and 

 many others were sounded, and died far away 

 into the almost trackless depths of the forest 

 which lay at our feet, yet not one welcome 

 sound did we hear, and though I had been en- 

 chanted and entranced by the beautiful melo- 

 dies, my thoughts were far away in the grand 

 and magnificent scene below me, with the bright 

 moon shining out so calmly, and making the 



