406 THE ZOOLOGIST* 



"March 23, 1825. Met Sir Kichard Sutton's hounds (the 

 Burton) at Newbold Common, near Wragby. Found and ran 

 into a Marten-cat." 



Mr. Cordeaux heard of a similar case some years later, when 

 the hounds ran down a Marten in Tumby Wood, near Horncastle. 

 I have seen five stuffed specimens of the Marten in the collection 

 of Mr. Borrer, of Cowfold, Sussex, one of which was killed five- 

 and-twenty years ago by the Crawley and Horsham Foxhounds. 



At the present day, however, the Marten, in England and 

 Wales, is seldom met with in a good hunting country. It has 

 been gradually driven further and further away from the centres 

 of civilization, until it is now only to be looked for (with any 

 chance of success) in the great woodlands, such as those of mid- 

 Lincolnshire, in the wild and secluded valleys amidst the wolds, 

 distant from any railroad, or amongst the lone mountain crags 

 of Wales and Cumberland. Cumberland, probably, is the only 

 county in England where the Mart is still hunted. Mr. W. A. 

 Durnford has thus described how it is carried out : — 



" The meet," he says, " was at Wastdale, one of the grandest and 

 most secluded valleys in the lake district. Long before daybreak we 

 were awakened, at the little inn, by the voice of the huntsman who had 

 arrived with six couple of hounds, varying in size from a beagle to a 

 foxhound, together with three wire-haired terriers. As the mist still 

 hung like a wet blanket on the hills, and the day had not yet broken, 

 it was decided that we should begin by trying our luck on the low 

 ground at the head of the valley, and thither we accordingly bent our 

 steps. We proceeded thus for nearly an hour, and though an occa- 

 sional whimper from one of the hounds led us to think that something 

 had passed that way during the night, if it had done so we were quite 

 unable to hit off its line. Being particularly anxious to show some 

 sport, the huntsman now resolved to take to the hills, notwithstanding 

 the mist ; and, having received instructions to keep well together, we 

 commenced the ascent of Yewbarrow, a mountain rather over 2000 feet 

 in height. It soon became evident that something was on foot ; the 

 hounds showed evident signs of excitement, eagerly examining every 

 nook and crevice, and stopping now and again to drink in, as it were, 

 the scent from all the rocks. Still they seemed at a loss, until an old 

 dog, which had been steadily hunting at a little distance from the rest, 

 suddenly commenced to give tongue. The others made a rush towards 

 him, and the whole pack was quickly off full cry up the face of the 

 mountain, raising a chorus which resounded from crag to crag across 



