THE OLD TIMES. 31 



Thomas, pleased as he can be, pulls out the harbourer's 

 fee, which is duly anointed and pouched. Then the 

 stag is forced away, to the enraptured gaze of 

 Courtenay Walrond, Esquire, doubtless "so big as 

 a bullock," Then the laying on of the pack, the 

 crossing of the Exe, possibly not without a check, and 

 the rush of gentlemen riding extremely bold up the 

 valley, with the great hounds chiming like bells 

 before them. At Exe Cleeve probably another check, 

 much mopping of red faces and interjections of amaze- 

 ment in broadest Devon. Then on again, and away to 

 Lowry Gate (not to be identified) ; Courtenay Wal- 

 rond, Esquire, breathless, his horse quivering; but 

 all, men and horses, roused out of their wits by the 

 mad baying. The foot people plunge in and secure 

 the deer as he stands game to the last in some 

 brown peat stream, with head laid back and fierce 

 clenched jaws, daring his tormentors to do their worst. 

 Then the mort note rises shrill above the deep hound 

 voices, as the noble antlered head sinks down and the 

 wild despairing eyes grow dim in death. The crowd 

 round Sir Thomas grows thicker and thicker. Farmer 

 A (his name probably ending in " cott ") thanks his 

 honour for the half-crown due to him for stopping the 

 tufters. Farmers B and C, also assistants, divide the 



