RIDING TO FOX-HOUNDS 



go as fast as your horse's pace, and as straight as 

 his courage admits, but if you have the Duke of 

 Beaufort's dog-pack in front of you, do not be 

 surprised to find, with their extraordinary dash 

 and enormous stride, that even on the pick of 

 your stable, ere you can jump into one field they 

 are half-way across the next. 



In hunting, as in everything else, compensation 

 seems the rule of daily life, and the very brilliancy 

 of the pace affords its own cure. Either hounds 

 run into their fox, or, should he find room to 

 turn, flash over the scent, and bring themselves 

 to a check. You will not then regret having 

 made play while you could, and although no good 

 sportsman, and, indeed, no kind - hearted man, 

 would overtax the powers of the most generous 

 animal in creation, still we must remember that 

 we came out for the purpose of seeing the fun, 

 and unless we can keep near the hounds while 

 they run we shall lose many beautiful instances 

 of their sagacity when brought to their noses, and 

 obliged to hunt. 



There is no greater treat to a lover of the chase 

 than to watch a pack of high-bred fox-hounds that 

 have been running hard on pasture, brought 

 suddenly to a check on the dusty sun-dried 

 fallows. After dashing and snatching in vain for 

 a furlong or so, they will literally quarter their 

 ground like pointers, till they recover the line, 



i8i 



