DEATH OF THE BOAR. 83 



ride, the hounds were made to worry his head a little, 

 but not half enough, and then the pad was dismem- 

 bered and formally presented to me, as the first gen- 

 tleman up, for which, of course, I presented the hunts- 

 man with a silver fee. 



On casting my eye over the hounds, though they 

 made cry enough for twenty couple, I could only count 

 five individuals ; another or two came up when the 

 boar was dead. 



M. Brunier then invited us, as we passed his house 

 on our road to our carriage, to stop and dine, saying 

 he would stable our horses for the night, they had had 

 a long day, and forward us to our carriage in one of 

 his. Of course I was too happy to do as my friends 

 did, and to make the work as easy as possible to my 

 dear old horse ; and this delay enabled me to see a 

 French huntsman dress his boar. 



Anybody who has seen a clever English forester 

 or park-keeper dress a deer well, knows that it is a 

 pretty sight, and of course I expected to see something 

 like it. Alas ! I was grievously disappointed. Instead 

 of hanging the boar up by the hocks, securing the 

 swallow and fastening the gut, and then in a mass 

 removing all from within that was not good to eat, 

 they flung the boar on a table, and cut him open in 

 that dirty and slovenly way, removing the skin when 



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