ISO REMINISCENCES, ETC. 



to the right, through a corner of Charldown to Brick 

 Hanger, and into the vale below towards East Woodhay, 

 and on to a farm in the meadows. Up to this point there 

 was neither check, stop, nor turn. It was in 1826, the first 

 year that Mr. Smith hunted from Penton, before he had 

 bought a regular pack from Sir R. Sutton : the hounds were 

 drafts from fifteen different packs, and most of them skirters. 

 This, however, was just the day for them, so glorious was 

 the scent, that if one flashed over it, another took up the 

 parable, and 



* A cry more tuneable 

 Was never bolla'd to, nor cheer'd with horn.* 



At this farm, then, up went their heads, and they stood 

 looking about as hounds do when they know the fox is 

 somewhere near, but cannot tell exactly where. The squire 

 (on Anderson, a famous little thorough-bred dark-brown 

 nag) made a rapid cast around the buildings to make sure 

 our fox was not forward. He then jumped off his horse 

 and seized a great country fellow by the collar, and swore 

 he would horsewhip him if he did not tell him what they 

 had done with the fox. The fellow blubbered out, ' It was 

 not /, it was Charley Dickman as had him.' 'Show him 

 to me, if you value your bones,' said the squire ; and while 

 they went to look for him, I and the late Mr. Pierrepont 

 kept the hounds back in the farm-yard. All at once they 

 began baying at the stable-door, which I opened, and they 

 rushed at the corn-bin, and in it was the fox in a sack, out 

 of which he was turned, and so the tragedy ended. 



" * Now, sir,' said the squire to Mr. Dickman, * give an 

 account of yourself, or you or I shall have as good a licking 

 as one man can give another.' 



"'Please, sir,' said Dickman, * I zee'd a fox come into the 

 yard, and thinking that Parson Lance's hounds were ' wor- 

 riting ' the poor crittur, I cotches him uji, and was agoing 

 to take him over to Squire Smith, of Pen ton.' 



