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CHAP. XIV. 



" I would not escape from Memory's hand 

 For all that the eye can view, 

 For there's dearer dust in memory's land, 

 Than the ore of rich Peru. 

 I clasp the fetter by memoiy twined, 

 The wanderer's heart and soul to bind." 



Joanna Baillie. 



The Wednesday morning having arrived, we set off 

 for the village in which the old keeper lived, in great 

 anticipation of sport, the more so as we thought that 

 perhaps MM. Lucas and E. Brunier would be there 

 with their hounds to add to our strength. On our 

 arrival, however, we discovered the keeper and a 

 large number of blouses with their guns assembled 

 to meet us, but no other hounds ; so we had to attack 

 with such means as the kennel at home afforded. 

 Great, however, was our joy on learning that the 

 large boar had been tracked to his lair and safely 

 harboured. On wending our way through these 

 endless woods, to my horror I heard what I took, 

 from its noise, to be a pack of hounds running in the 



