THE MERRY LITTLE HOUND 
Some Facts Worth Knowing About the Beagle 
BY N. WILLIAMS HAYNES 
HE setter or pointer 
man who thinks that 
the whirr of the par- 
tridge, or grouse, is the 
acme of sporting pleas- 
ure; the follower of 
Reynard who dashes 
headlong over fallows 
and fences; the big game-hunter who travels 
many, many miles to reach his happy 
hunting ground—all look with contempt 
upon the merry little beagles and the 
humble cottontail. They consider the 
sport afforded by the miniature hounds 
and the rabbit to be far beneath their 
dignity, and in the blissfulness of their 
ignorance and prejudice they deny them- 
selves one of the greatest pleasures that 
come the way of the true sportsman. 
On some crisp autumnal morning, when 
theair contains that suggestion of frost which 
makes the blood leap for pure joy, take one 
of these doubting Thomases afield with a 
pack of well-trained beagles, and on the 
edge of some, to him, uninviting swamp or 
bramble thicket let him pause to watch the 
hounds disappear. Just as he is seriously 
considering slipping away at the first 
opportunity, the musical voice of old Trailer 
breaks the morning stillness. The others 
of the pack hark to him and one by one 
add their voices to the choir: 

Thro’ miry swamp and wooded vale, 
The beagles run the cottontail. 
The hounds give tongue; the welkin rings; 
’Tis music fit for lords and kings. 
At last, humble Br’er Rabbit bursts into 
view, with the musical little pack close on 
his trail, The D. T. aims, fires, and 
misses. He dashes to a point of vantage, 
determined to get ‘‘that cussed rabbit,” 
only to find that the quarry has doubled 
and that the hounds are casting back and 
forth looking for the connection to their 
broken trail. Almost in spite of himself he 
is interested in the systematic, yet rapid, 
work of the diminutive hunters and he 
begins to respect them and their quarry, 
which knows as many cunning tricks as the 
red fox himself. By noontime the un- 
believer who would have nothing to do 
with the ‘‘toy dogs” is as enthusiastic as 
a schoolboy who has won his first fight. 
And yet, the pleasure of the chase is 
but a fraction of the joys that the beagler 
secures from his hounds. The breeding 
of his matrons, the rearing of the puppies, 
the training of the youngsters and the 
running of the pack on the still summer 
evenings, or the bracing wintry morn- 
ings, are all his, and all are pleasures. 
From the pen of W. B. Crofton, one of 
the leading pocket-beagle enthusiasts of 
England, has come a suggestion for another 
beagle sport, which has been practically and 
successfully tried on the other side. The 
plan is to hold paper chases, using beagles 
to trail a dragged rabbit skin in place of the 
usual eye-followed paper trail. The skin is 
given to the ‘‘hare” of the party, with orders 
to twist and double to his heart’s content, 
but to always keep his trail marker on the 
ground. After twenty minutes’ start, the 
beagles, accompanied by the “huntsmen,”’ 
are set on the trail, and the chase begins. 
The hounds set a pace that will tax the 
best runners to keep up with them, and no 
matter how small the pack (the pocket 
variety is much preferable for this game), 
there will be more than one who will fall by 
the wayside. The music of the pack, the 
work of the hounds, all add attraction to 
the hare and hound game that no cold, 
uninteresting paper trail can ever give. 
The beagle is the ideal sporting dog for 
the thickly populated portions of the 
country. His disposition allows him to live 
at peace with his neighbors, both canine 
and human, and he is a constant source of 
