stretched in the shade. To my hoiTor, I heard an order given 

 to the whippers-in, to " lay into them," which was accordingly 

 done ; but as the lash does not increase a hound's appetite nor 

 arouse his eagerness, though the pack sought their huntsman 

 to escape the whip, very few of them touched the fox. They 

 were, in fact, whipped for having killed the fox, and could 

 have understood their punishment in no other light. I 

 remember reporting what I had witnessed to the present Duke 

 of Bedford, who agreed with me in repudiating the act of 

 the huntsman. Such want of discrimination as this I would 

 caution the rising generation to avoid ; and how I should 

 have dealt with a pack of hounds so situated, must be 

 gleaned from pages to come: it is not a legitimate theme 

 for a preface. 



While writing this work, I am sitting in my study at 

 Beacon Lodge, the wide and open window admitting the 

 southerly air fresh from the blue wave of Christchurch Bay. 

 There are but seventy yai'ds of short turf and lawn between 

 me and the edge of the cliff. The farthest pet from me 

 is my grey forest-pony. Dingle, calmly cropping the short 

 gi-eensward, while round her legs are frisking a quantity 

 of rabbits. Hei-e and there some beautiful little bantams, 

 with their chickens, are in search of insects ; the group varied 

 by several hybrids bred from the bantam and pheasant. 

 Nearer to the house are rabbits stretched in the sun, and 

 basking in company with Brenda, the pet of the drawing- 

 room, a greyhound who won the Puppy stakes of her year 

 at the Greenway, in Gloucestershire. A New Forest fawn, 

 now approximating to a doe, and, locally, almost the last 



