CHAPTER XI 



"And now to this day when the storm is on high, 

 And the clovids over Berkeley low'r, 

 There are those who affirm that an agonised cry. 

 With a thundering hoof as the wind sweeps by, 

 May be heard at the midnight hour." 



Witch of Berkeley.— G. F. B. 



As it will now be my province to speak of wild-fowl shooting on 

 a grander scale, the reader will perhaps 'pai-don me for a digres- 

 sion, in taking him to Berkeley Castle, to describe the sports 

 there. Nothing can be more ample than the hunting establish- 

 ment in men, hounds, and horses, nor moi-e perfect than the 

 show of foxes. A great many of those in the vale round the 

 Castle are artificial or turned-down cubs, but, of course, with the 

 stock always left after a hunting season there are many natural 

 or wild litters. The hills above the vale are natural to foxes, 

 and so are the Cheltenham hills, where they are wild and stout 

 enough in all conscience. There are generally five men in caps 

 with the hounds, in scarlet (alas ! not in tawny coats), a hunts- 

 man, two whippers-in, and three men on second horses. As I 

 have said before, I think the huntsman, Harry Ayris, one of the 

 best men with hounds I ever saw. To give the reader some idea 

 of the amount of foxes I have seen in the vale, I remember taking 

 Mr. Drax from Charborough Park to Berkeley Castle in October, 

 to convince him that at Berkeley, where there were so many 

 pheasants and hares, there were forty foxes where Mr. Drax had 

 one. I did so for the purpose of proving to him that it was 

 possible to have foxes, hares, and pheasants in any amount 



