“Now the hill, the hedge, are green,Now the warbler’s throat’s in tune,Blithsome is the verdant scene,Brightened by the beams of noon.”
“Now the hill, the hedge, are green,Now the warbler’s throat’s in tune,Blithsome is the verdant scene,Brightened by the beams of noon.”
“Now the hill, the hedge, are green,
Now the warbler’s throat’s in tune,
Blithsome is the verdant scene,
Brightened by the beams of noon.”
It was a sultry summer’s day, and Trimbush and myself were luxuriating under the wide-spreading and deep shade of a walnut tree growing near the kennel. Five or six of our companions, on the free list, like ourselves, were lounging about in the coolest spots, and their only occasional signs of life, as they laid upon the ground, consisted in brushing the buzzing flies from their nostrils and hides, and, now and then, making a snap at their enemies. Wearied, at length, with my own laziness, I made an effort to drawTrimbush into conversation, by asking him the cause of kennel lameness.
The old hound rolled on his side, and giving a wide yawn, stretched out his legs as far as possible, with his stern stiffly turned over his back.
“That’s comfortable,” said he, “very. And so you wish to learn the cause of one of the greatest afflictions that can visit us?”
“Yes,” rejoined I, “it is my wish to know everything concerning our interests. For if mankind be the proper study for man, so must hounds and hunting be the proper study for me.”
“A sensible remark,” returned my companion; “and as you are always ready to listen, there can be no doubt but that you’ll attain proficiency.”
“I’m greatly obliged for your encouragement,” added I.
“I remember two seasons ago,” said Trimbush, “hearing Tom Holt read aloud fromThe Sporting Magazinea remarkably sensible article on the subject you wish to be informed about, and it made so deep an impression that I can now repeat it nearly word for word.”
“I’m all attention,” I replied.
My friend cleared his throat, and then commenced.
“Peculiar conditions of the atmosphere have generally the effect of some disorders, which attack men and animals to so great an extent as to be denominated the prevailing diseases of the time—such as cholera, typhus fever, influenza, and many others. These results are not always contemporary with the weather, which in reality produces them. Indeed, they most frequently make their appearance some little time after a change of temperature has taken place, by which certain influences have been established, which become the sources of disorder in the functions of animal economy. Such disorders as those which are peculiar to any particular districts cannot fail to receive an impulse from such a season as the one we have lately experienced. Kennel lameness ranks among the number as likely to be one over which these powers may be expected to have a very considerable control. Much has been said and much has been written on the subject, and many possibilities have been suggested, and remedies proposed, which have so little reason for their basis, that it appears extraordinaryhow they could ever have entered the brain of reasonable and thinking men: but before going into a detail, I will introduce a few remarks on endemic diseases, for the purpose of more clearly establishing the point, ‘that certain situations produce the complaint, and will for ever be the cause of its continuance so long as those situations are preserved’; and also that certain modes of treatment are the causes of its prevailing in some instances with a greater degree of inveteracy. Indeed I have no hesitation in declaring, that bad management will, even on healthy sites, produce a modified degree of rheumatism, which assumes the name of kennel lameness.
“There are certain diseases which afflict the human body, and which are found to rage in particular localities, termed endemic. They are attributable to some peculiarities of the soil, the air, the food, and in some instances of the habits of the inhabitants. Poverty, want of cleanliness, and, the consequence of poverty, bad and insufficient food and raiment, may be enumerated among the most conspicuous causes. A removal of them will naturally be followed by the disappearance of the endemic. So with hounds: if aslight degree of rheumatism exists, produced by irregular treatment, alter the treatment, and if those already affected do not recover, the list of invalids will not be augmented by its appearance in fresh subjects. Some may oppose me on this point, by observing, if bad management produces the complaint in a slight degree, may it not do so in a greater? To this I answer distinctly, No; inasmuch as in some kennels the disorder has never been known to emanate, but that unsound hounds brought from other kennels have recovered: besides which, there are many kennels in which the disorder rages where the hounds are treated precisely upon the same system as in establishments which are perfectly free from it.
“It is well known to what an extent various diseases, such as cutaneous complaints and scurvy, have identified themselves with peculiar situations, more especially after certain seasons. Medical practitioners are of opinion, that, for the thoroughly comprehending the nature and the cure of endemical diseases, an accurate study of topography is essentially necessary. The inhabitants of countries or places where diseases prevailendemically are very often exempted from other serious indispositions; and the natives of a country or district frequently become inured by habit to influences which at once manifest their power over newly-imported strangers, especially in tropical regions. In countries inhabited by different races of men, the same circumstances do not always produce the same effects upon different varieties. The water of the Seine produces disorder in the Londoner, to which the Parisian, who is accustomed to it, is exempt. The treatment also of similar diseases often requires to be very different in consequence of the locality where it appears, and also the constitution and habits of the patient.
“The miasmata, or particles which emanate from the surface of the earth, produce marked effects upon the human constitution in those places where they prevail. The districts where they are most conspicuous are the marshes, fens and swamps in Lincolnshire, Cambridgeshire, and Essex: intermitting fevers and agues are the consequence. Although marshy districts are pre-eminently capable of engendering miasmata, they are not exclusively so: the resultof numerous observations proves that the circumstances essential to this phenomenon are the presence of water, or moisture, and the influence of solar heat: when the quantity of water is great at any particular time, the effects do not manifest themselves until it subsides. Many circumstances are supposed to influence the development of the effects of these exhalations. It is also asserted, that it has sometimes been carried to considerable distances, to situations naturally healthy, by currents of air. This is a consideration of vast importance in forming an opinion upon the fact of kennel lameness being indigenous to certain situations, and shows most clearly how little benefit can be anticipated in those cases where the malady is severe, by the interposition of impervious concretes, asphaltum, and such like preparations.
“It has been asserted that attacks of paralysis have been mistaken for kennel lameness. How such mistakes can have originated with any persons conversant with the characteristics of the latter malady, it is difficult to conceive, unless that term is intended to comprehend all disorders in which lameness is apparent. If so, ere long, weshall have hounds, when lamed by thorns or bruises, included in the list. Kennel lameness, properly so termed, is intended to convey the idea of a malady whose distinctive symptoms are so identically similar to rheumatism, that there appears scarcely any visible reason why it should be distinguished by any other term; but as it has now acquired a standing in the huntsman’s nomenclature, it would be presumption to attempt to displace it: nevertheless, the term rheumatism would be quite as applicable and more universally comprehended. Before a physiologist pronounces to what class a disorder belongs, and before a physician attempts to prescribe a remedy for its cure, it is requisite to investigate the symptoms which exist. Now the symptoms of paralysis and rheumatism are so distinctly at variance, that it is utterly impossible to fall under a mistake. Paralysis is a nervous affection, in which the nerves, acting on the muscles, interrupt their motion, relaxing their tone and fibre, and very frequently distorting some particular limb. Rheumatism is a rigid or contracted state of the muscles, attended with a slight inflammatory condition of the tissue whichcovers the muscles, having the effect, when the animal has been some time at rest, of creating a certain degree of adhesion. Thus a hound badly affected with kennel lameness, on first being taken out, is so stiff and sore as scarcely to be able to move—a state in which I have seen so many, that the remembrance is accompanied with feelings of commiseration and pity that would prompt me to any trouble or exertion that would produce the effect of subduing the complaint. When hounds thus disordered have been in motion a short time, so as to increase the circulation of the blood, the extreme rigidity or stiffness goes off to a certain extent, dependent upon the violence of the attack. But paralytic affections would not be attended with any such results: exercise would rather tend to increase than to improve the capabilities of action.
“I have very little doubt but the severe work which staghounds occasionally undergo, and the numerous changes of temperature which they have to contend against, are causes for the aggravation of this malady. A foxhound generally has some preparatory exercise, besides the exertion of going tocovert, which latter is equivalent to the staghound going to the place of meeting. The former has to draw for and to find his fox, in which effort his powers are more gradually brought into play, and the circulation of his blood is more rationally increased; but the staghound is laid on to the scent of his game without any preparatory excitement of the system, when he immediately goes to work, straining every nerve in his ardour for the chase, and very frequently maintains those efforts during the period of several hours; and frequently, when in an evident state of exhaustion, a time when immersion is dangerous, he plunges into rivers, canals, or lakes—places which stags have such inordinate propensities for when severely pressed.
“The high and stimulating food, which is no doubt found necessary to maintain condition during a long chase, is another cause for symptoms of kennel lameness making their appearance with staghounds. The circumstance of the canine species not throwing off perspirable matter through the pores of the skin, appears to be a very powerful reason why they are so susceptible of rheumatic affections, and more especially thatit should assume a chronic character when once introduced into the system. It is asserted that the dog perspires through the tongue; admitting that as a fact, it is to a very trifling extent, and not equivalent to the vast effusion of violent perspiration which must ensue from the laborious exertions of the chase, providing a hound generates an equivalent proportion according to his bulk that either a man or a horse does under similar efforts; besides which, making its escape from one part only, the general relief to the animal cannot be equivalent to that which is experienced by those animals who have outlets in the immediate proximity of almost every muscle. It is very evident that a great portion of the extraneous fluid, which in some animals flies off in perspiration, is by the hound voided in urine. The vast quantity which he passes is a proof of this, and it is a reason why medicines acting upon the urinary functions should be resorted to, in cases of kennel lameness, as a palliative.
“Seeing the announcement some months ago that ‘our right trusty and well-beloved friend’ and faithful correspondent,Ringwood, had forwarded his opinions andsuggestions on the subject of Kennel Lameness, and appreciating most highly his experience on sporting subjects, I was buoyed up with the hope that his discoveries would have thrown some new light on the case; but was much disappointed at reading his recommendations to try the effect of fires in the lodging-rooms. Knowing them to have been tried by Sir B. Graham, Mr. Boycott, also in the kennels occupied by Mr. Nicol, I believe also by Lord Kintore, with prejudicial consequences, it only remains to intimate that the practice is incompatible. Moreover, the diuretic tendency which it produces, in encouraging hounds to perform their evacuations in the lodging-rooms, instead of in the yards, is a reason why the adoption of fires, however secured, in kennels, cannot be carried out consistently with the usual discipline and necessary observance of cleanliness. One of the most positive cases in proof, that on some occasions kennel lameness proceeds entirely from the unhealthy situation of their habitation, is that of Mr. Foljambe. With the utmost attention to kennel management, a long series of years passed with nothing but disappointment and vexation to crown themost liberal and judicious experiments. Nothing that human skill could suggest or accomplish was left untried, until at length it was determined to remove the hounds to a kennel at another part of the country, where, under precisely the same management, they are sound and well.
“In conversation with a friend a short time since, a M. F. H., he made the remark, that if I could make the discovery of a cure for this disorder, I should be entitled to honors and distinctions too superfluous to mention. My reply was simply this: ‘A remedy has been discovered, not by myself, for I desire no merit which I am not entitled to, but it is clearly proved that removal to a healthy site will effect all that is desired.’ The removal must not, however, be undertaken without mature consideration, in order to ascertain if the proposed new situation is perfectly free from the causes which produce the disorder. Clay soils may be denominated the most eligible; light sandy soils and light soils on chalk, are the worst. Any attempt to cure the complaint on a situation which so evidently engenders it, is like trying to heal a wound while the substance which created itremains within. Removal on the first discovery that the kennel is so located as to be injurious will most assuredly be found the most satisfactory, and, in the end, the most economical determination.”
I managed to keep myself from a most seductive doze during my companion’s somewhat prosy delivery; but scarcely had he finished, than I was in the land of dreams, and toying with
“The children of an idle brain,Begot of nothing but vain fantasy.”
“The children of an idle brain,Begot of nothing but vain fantasy.”
“The children of an idle brain,
Begot of nothing but vain fantasy.”
“We still have slept together,Rose at an instant, learn’d, play’d, eat together;And wheresoe’er we went, like Juno’s swans,Still we went coupled, and inseparable.”
“We still have slept together,Rose at an instant, learn’d, play’d, eat together;And wheresoe’er we went, like Juno’s swans,Still we went coupled, and inseparable.”
“We still have slept together,
Rose at an instant, learn’d, play’d, eat together;
And wheresoe’er we went, like Juno’s swans,
Still we went coupled, and inseparable.”
It was late in August, and the weather so sultry, that we scarcely knew how to bear with the intense heat. Some did nothing but lap the water, always running in a clear fine stream, from the fountain in the court, and assuaged their thirst by continual sipping. Others drank deeply, but seldom; and all, more or less, evinced the feverish suffering they endured.
I was lying in a shady corner of the court one day about noontide, when I happened to notice a hound of the name of Gameboy go two or three times towards the fountain, and then turn from it with a slight shudder.
Rising from the ground, I went towards him and said, “What’s the matter?”
“I don’t know,” replied he, “but I feel very strange. I’m dreadfully thirsty, and yet cannot go near the water.”
I now perceived that his eyes looked dull and leaden, and his body shook, as if every nerve and sinew were shattered and unstrung.
“Perhaps you have eaten something that has disagreed with you,” returned I.
“No,” added he; “I picked up a bone in our walk this morning, but that couldn’t injure me.”
“What’s that wound on your shoulder,” I asked.
“A mere scratch,” said he, “I got from a cur three days ago. He flew at me while passing a cottage garden, and just touched me on the skin.”
This intelligence struck me with the most inexpressible uneasiness, and I went to Trimbush, who was asleep, and waking him, repeated all I had seen and heard.
In a moment the old hound jumped from his posture of indolence, and approaching Gameboy, regarded him minutely.
“Are you unwell?” said he.
“Yes,” replied Gameboy; “I never felt so queer before.”
“Are you thirsty?”
“Awfully so,” he rejoined, “and yet cannot drink.”
“But why?” asked Trimbush.
Gameboy gave an involuntary shudder, and said, “The sight, and even the noise of water, is more painful than I can describe.”
“Let me see you make an effort to go near it,” responded my companion. “Perseverance may overcome this, seemingly, nervous affection.”
In accordance with the desire, poor Gameboy turned his head towards the fountain, and endeavoured to approach it; but had scarcely taken a stride in the direction, when a spasm appeared to seize him, and with a howl he rushed cowering to the farthest corner of the court.
The attention of the rest of the hounds was attracted by this, and several were trotting towards him to learn the cause, when Trimbush interposed by saying, “Stay—he’s mad.”
As if each had received a shock of electricity, the whole stood still and mute,regarding in silent horror their miserable companion. It is impossible to convey the effect produced upon the communication made thus briefly by Trimbush. Every one seemed not to know what to do or say, until Gameboy, with a white thick foam dropping from his jaw, sprung upon his feet and rushed towards them. A wild bull would not have scattered us more completely. Frenzied with fear, we flew from the maddened wretch, who rushed staggering at everything in his way, and snapping his jaws with that fury which the mad can only show.
“Get from him,” said Trimbush, in a thick husky voice, and exhibiting the greatest terror. “Pray get from him. It’s death if he touches ye.”
The noise in the kennel now became furious. All were stricken with fright, and the howling and cries were most appalling.
It could scarcely have continued more than a minute, however, when the stentorian voices of Will Sykes and Ned Adams were heard, calling for “quiet,” accompanied by the cracks of a heavy thong.
“Thanks be to the saints!” exclaimed Trimbush, “assistance is at hand.”
Immediately afterwards both entered the court, and the huntsman glancing round, said reproachfully, “What’s all this about, eh?”
At this juncture, Mark the feeder made his appearance, and his eye instantly fell upon Gameboy. I never shall forget the old man’s countenance, the moment he saw the hound. A ghastly paleness came over it, and he looked almost stunned with the sight.
“Great heaven!” ejaculated he, holding up both his hands. “Great heaven, Will, there’s madness among ’em!”
“What!” said the huntsman, his question sounding like a sharp expression of pain.
“Madness,” repeated Mark, “as sure as we live.”
With staring eyes, the huntsman and second whip examined Gameboy at a short distance and, after a slight pause, the former exclaimed, “’Tis true! Run, Ned, and bring the Squire.”
“Get in, get in,” hallooed Mark, and closing the lodging-room door, we were safe from the attacks of the wretched Gameboy, who was now left alone in the court.
“Take care,” said Will, retreating towards the door, “he’s in a most rabid state.”
“I wonder where it will end,” returned Mark, joining the huntsman’s side by the door.
“Who can tell?” rejoined Will, bitterly. “We may lose half of ’em, perhaps.”
“I noticed that he looked rather heavy about the eyes, for a day or two,” added the feeder, “but I accounted for it through the heat.”
“It was only yesterday,” said Will, “that I gave him a dose of black brimstone and lard, seeing that he was feverish.”
“It was a mercy no accident occurred to ye,” responded Mark. “A mere scratch from a tooth would have——”
“What’s this?” interrupted a well-known voice, and there stood our master, breathless and exhausted with the speed he had used in attending the summons to the fearful scene.
“Gameboy, sir,” replied Will, pointing to the convulsive and agonized hound, “is mad beyond a doubt.”
“Are there any more with such symptoms?” hurriedly asked the squire, scrutinizing the object of their painful attention and interest.
“We have not had time for a careful examination, sir,” returned the huntsman;“but I saw none as we hastily separated them.”
“You have acted well,” said the Squire, “and we must continue the same prompt and sound judgment. Shoot that hound instantly.”
No sooner was the order given than Mark produced a long, single-barrelled flint gun, with which he was in the habit of slaughtering rats about the precincts of the kennel, and handed it to Will.
“Do it for me,” whispered he, with a quivering lip. “I feel quite sick.”
Our feeder hesitated for a second or two; but after a short struggle with a corresponding reluctance to become the executioner, he brought the piece to his shoulder, and drove the charge crashing through Gameboy’s brain. Without a perceptible throe of anguish, poor Gameboy fell lifeless upon the flags, and so ended, to us, this terrible tragedy.
“Before endeavouring to learn the cause of the disease in him,” said the Squire, “draft each hound singly, and let us see whether any have been bitten by him, or if the least cause of fear exists that more must be destroyed.”
“I hope not, sir,” returned Will, with astrangely inarticulate voice. “What shall we do if——”
“It’s useless to talk of what weshalldo,” interrupted his master irritably, “until we learn what wecando. Draft the hounds.”
One by one was called from the lodging-room by name, and after minutely examining the eyes, nose and mouth, every hackle was rubbed back to see if the slightest recent abrasion of the skin had been made. At length it came to my turn, and unfortunately a scratch made by myself, while brushing a flea from my neck in the morning, was found just under my left ear.
“Reload your gun,” said the Squire.
A trembling seized me at these words, so that I could scarcely stand, and a film spread itself across my eyes, which nearly blinded me.
“Oh, sir,” exclaimed Will Sykes, “don’t have him shot yet. It does not look to me like a bite.”
“But it does to me,” replied his master. “What think you, Mark?”
The old man divided the hackles with his thumb and finger, and after a careful examination pronounced an opinion coinciding with that of the huntsman.
“I know that the hound is a great favourite with both of ye,” said the Squire, “and with good reasons. But remember, if from any false feeling of kindness we spare one infected, the entire pack may be lost.”
“I wouldn’t do it, sir,” returned Mark. “I wouldn’t do it, sir,” repeated he, “if he was my own child, and I thought him bitten. The intended kindness would be right down cruelty.”
“Still,” added our master, shaking his head, “I entertain great doubt as to the policy of hesitating to take the safer course. However, let him be shut up by himself and watched incessantly; and in the event of the most trifling but certain symptom appearing, wait for no instructions from me, but shoot him.”
I was now taken from the court and subjected to solitary confinement for six weeks; but as Tom Holt explained the cause of poor Gameboy’s malady, from having seen him attacked by the cur, and all the rest being found free from the smallest likelihood of inoculation, I was permitted to join my companions again soon after cub-hunting commenced. During my involuntary retreat,Mark paid me the greatest attention, and, that I might not be low-spirited for want of company, would often sit upon my bench and chat to me, and croon snatches of old ballads to himself. He took me long walks, too, when his work was done, and altogether the time was spent much more agreeably than might be imagined in the gloom of solitude.
Hearty was the welcome upon my re-appearance in the court, and each of my friends expressed his warm delight at seeing me again; although a stranger to our ways and customs might deem the reception somewhat churlish, and of the growling mood. However, we do not ‘use our tongues for the concealment of our thoughts,’ and if devoid of the polish of refined manners, we at least possess an equal proportion of their honesty.
“Slow pass’d the night, and now with silver ray,The star of morning ushers in the day;The shadows fly before the roseate hours,And the chill dew hangs glittering on the flowers;The pruning-hook or humble spade to wield,The cheerful labourer hastens to the field.”
“Slow pass’d the night, and now with silver ray,The star of morning ushers in the day;The shadows fly before the roseate hours,And the chill dew hangs glittering on the flowers;The pruning-hook or humble spade to wield,The cheerful labourer hastens to the field.”
“Slow pass’d the night, and now with silver ray,
The star of morning ushers in the day;
The shadows fly before the roseate hours,
And the chill dew hangs glittering on the flowers;
The pruning-hook or humble spade to wield,
The cheerful labourer hastens to the field.”
“Trifles, light as air,” observed Trimbush, “are frequently of the most momentous importance. Who could have thought, now,” continued he, “that brushing a flea from your neck would have subjected ye to upwards of six weeks confinement from all society?”
“Ah!” exclaimed I, “if I could have had any anticipation of such a result, he might have sucked my blood till now.”
“I was in a terrible fright,” rejoined my friend, “that they were going to stop its circulation at once.”
“It would have been one of the most unjustifiable murders ever committed,” returned I.
“That may be all very true,” added my companion; “but what compensation would the act of injustice have been to you?”
“None,” replied I.
“There have been innumerable such-like mistakes committed,” said Trimbush, “and never discovered. Fortunately for you, the suspected had the benefit of the doubt.”
“I consider that the Squire was far too hasty in his decision regarding myself,” responded I.
“The convicted always think so,” rejoined the old hound. “However,” continued he, “I quite agree in the same opinion. There was sufficient cause for fearful apprehension, and it was impossible to calculate the amount of the calamity. But I do not think that any kind of fear should be allowed to exaggerate an injury. To observe sedulous care in preventing its extension is most wise and prudent. At the same time, if a hasty panicoverrules the cooler judgment, the engendered evil may on evil’s head accumulate ten-fold. Our master was decidedly wrong in contemplating having you destroyed with such slight evidence of questionable inoculation; but he was quite right in ordering you to be drafted from the rest. The one was an unweighed, ill-judged impulse—the other, a wise precaution.”
“A distinction, with a material difference,” I observed.
“Yes,” replied he, “beyond the shadow of a doubt. I once heard,” resumed my friend, “of a M. F. H. having his entire pack destroyed, in consequence of a couple-and-a-half showing symptoms of hydrophobia—or, as we should say, in more intelligible language, a dread of water. Nothing could be more wanton or unjustifiable, and as well might an entire community of human beings be doomed to perish in consequence of one or more of its members becoming insane, as fifty or sixty couple of hounds, from the same cause.”
“Were there any other doubtful cases besides myself?” I inquired.
“No,” replied Trimbush. “All wereturned over with the greatest scrutiny; but nothing suspicious appearing, we were allowed to remain as we were, with a great additional watch being kept over us. In fact, Mark, or Will Sykes, was always close by for a long time after Gameboy’s death; and if a hound growled even in his dream, one or the other was at hand in a moment. I never saw greater vigilance; and I can’t help thinking that the two kept an eye open for weeks in their sleep.”
The tramp of three horses approaching the kennel door put an end to this, our first conversation since the fatal occurrence of Gameboy’s death.
“Let ’em out, Mark,” said a well-known voice, and as the feeder threw back the door, we scrambled from the court, and ran and jumped in sportive circles about the horses. Although in the highest state of excitement, every tongue was mute, and a slight crack from Tom Holt’s whip put a considerable check to the rather violent gambols of a few of the youngest. It was not quite daylight as we trotted along between three and four miles; and as we entered a gate at the end of a by-lane, who should be standing with hisreins over his arm, and leaning carelessly against the side of his horse, but our “up-with-the-lark” and excellent master.
“You are behind your time, William,” said he, throwing himself into his saddle.
“Begging your pardon, sir,” replied the huntsman, tugging at the curb chain securing his thick watch in a very deep fob, “I think not.”
“By seven minutes,” rejoined his master.
“Quite right, sir,” added Will, looking at his apoplectic time-keeper. “Seven minutes have given me the slip.”
“No matter,” returned the Squire; “we have scarcely light enough as it is.”
The narrow zig-zag lane led on to a large open grass field, on the borders of which was one of the best and strongest covers in our country.
“Who has examined this cover?” asked the Squire.
“Tom Holt, sir,” replied the huntsman.
“Where did you find most billets?”
“In the field beyond this, sir,” replied the whipper-in, with a touch of his cap.
“Very good,” rejoined his master. “Then take them there, William,” continued he,“and let the puppies see the old hounds feel for the scent.”
No sooner were we in the field spoken of by Tom Holt, than, stooping my nose to the ground, I inhaled that scent, which, from the first, sent my blood tingling through my whole body. Several began to hustle, push, and fling themselves about, and one, named Harbinger, threw his tongue.
“So-oftly, Harbinger, so-oftly,” said Will. “You’re as noisy as ever, I see.”
“He’s incorrigible,” replied the Squire. “Put him away.”
“We shall cure him after a few more trials, sir, I hope,” rejoined the huntsman, who could never bear to have one of us destroyed.
“He should have been cured before this,” rejoined his master, “and if not removed, he will render others as bad as himself. I hate a noisy hound,” continued he, “and I’m certain no drilling will stop Harbinger from riot and babbling. There is no vice so contagious and injurious as the one he possesses and persists in; and to use further forbearance in retaining him in the pack would be most unwise. You know, last season, thatafter being flogged three times in one day for riot at hare, he repeated the fault whenever he had the chance and thought the whips could not get at him.”
“He’s to go, then, sir?” said Will.
“The sooner the better,” replied the Squire. “I wish to have my hounds so perfect, that if any one of them speaks in cover, you may be certain that it’s a fox, and know that he may be cheered without fear of a mistake. Unless this be the case, what pleasure can there be to me, as their master, or satisfaction to you, as their huntsman?”
Will gave no answer, and to account for the obstinate Harbinger’s fate, all I can say is, that he was led from the kennel the following day, with a coil of rope round his neck.
We now carried the drag into the cover, and Trimbush and myself acknowledged the scent. Will gave us a cheer that startled many a pigeon from her roost, and Tom Holt and Ned Adams spurred right and left, with orders to head short back every fox that made his appearance. We got up to our cub, and drove him through the cover at a slashing rate. The morning being warm, and the scent good, there was no breathing time, andthe pace soon began to tell upon the family of foxes, which we were now racing in divided lots.
“How many of them are there?” inquired the Squire.
“Not less than two brace and a half, sir,” replied the huntsman.
“Very good,” rejoined his master. “Let the vixen go if she will.”
He then galloped towards Tom Holt, and just as he was about cracking his whip, a signal from the Squire stopped him.
“Come from this corner,” said he, “and let the old one go, and as soon as these hounds come out with the scent, stop them, and take them to William.”
Scarcely were the instructions given, when the vixen took advantage of the opportunity, and broke away at her best pace. The lot settled to her were stopped, and taken to the huntsman at the top of a ride, in about the middle of the cover.
Being joined in one body, we now pressed our cub most severely; and I viewed him cross two or three rides with his red rag out, in a truly sinking condition.
“This cub is very much distressed, sir,”observed the huntsman, “and if they don’t get one of the others up, for they have all dropped but this, they’ll soon run into him.”
I now heard a succession of cracks from a thong, which I knew to be Ned Adams’s.
“He’s headed a fox back,” said Trimbush, exultingly, “but it isn’t our hunted one. He’s out—come along.”
A bunch of us swept from the side of the cover, and with heads up, dashed across a field, before Will was aware that we had got away.
“They’re out, by heaven!” exclaimed the huntsman. “Where can Ned be?”
“All right,” returned the Squire. “They broke from the side, and no one’s to blame.”
We carried the scent through the first hedge into a summerland, and threw up. Will, coming up, took hold of us rather hastily, and cast us down wind.
“Gently, William, gently,” said his master, reprovingly. “You appear to have forgotten the golden rule of letting them alone.”
We felt down wind for some distance, but not making it out, turned up, and as we were passing the spot where we had jumpedthrough the hedge, a thought struck me that the cub might be skulking in the ditch on the other side. Popping my nose down, I dropped into it, and finding instantly that I was right, I rushed through the brambles, and just as he was about to spring out, I caught him across a tender part, and with one pinch he was as dead as a salt herring.
“Who-whoop!” hallooed the Squire. “Who-whoop, my beauty!”
To the envy of most of my companions, I received great praise for this kill from our master, who seemed not to know how to make enough of me on our road home.
“Yo-o, Ringwood!” cried he, throwing me a bit of biscuit from his pocket. “Yo-o, Ringwood, darling,” and then turning to Will, said, “What a mercy such a hound as that was not destroyed through my haste!”
“Ay, sir,” returned the huntsman, with a knowing shake of the head. “If we have as good, we’ve none better.”
“Thanks to my instructions,” growled Trimbush.
“Come, come,” said I, “don’t be jealous of the little praise I’m getting. You receive your share.”
“Jealous?” repeated my companion, with a proud lash of his stern, “I flatter myself that I can afford to begenerous.”
Seeing, however, that he was a little annoyed at the attention I received, I said nothing more, but jogged in silence by the side of the Squire’s horse.
“By the way,” said our master, addressing Will, “in speaking of haste, let this morning be another lesson to you not to take your hounds off their noses with a sinking fox. More are lost by that than by any other mistake committed. There was every probability of your leaving your fox behind in the ditch, and then you would have said that he had headed back to cover. A fresh one would have been got up, and the error remained undiscovered. Countless foxes, booked safe to die, are changed in this manner, and escape from no other reason than from taking hounds off their noses. Remember this, William.”
The huntsman touched his cap, and the conversation dropped.
“For aught I see they are as sick thatSurfeit with too much, as they that starve withNothing.”
“For aught I see they are as sick thatSurfeit with too much, as they that starve withNothing.”
“For aught I see they are as sick that
Surfeit with too much, as they that starve with
Nothing.”
We had just finished our breakfast one morning, and were lying about the court to assist digestion, when I chanced to remark that I considered the flesh not quite so nicely cooked as usual.
“Your palate must be out of order,” returned Trimbush. “Mark is as good a boiler as ever heated a copper.”
“Still the material might have been tough,” said I, “and consequently required longer boiling.”
“I think not,” rejoined my friend, with asmack of his lips. “My taste may be depended upon in such important matters.”
“A great deal of one’s comfort depends upon the cook,” I observed.
“Beyond conception,” emphatically replied the old hound. “In addition to which,” he continued, “we can’t perform our duties unless properly kept. The meal must be good and old, the flesh well but not over-boiled, and the broth rich and sweet to enable us to kill foxes handsomely. Our strength, speed, and wind, depend upon the feeding.”
“No doubt about it,” coincided I.
“I remember,” resumed my friend, “hearing a scientific opinion given on this important subject to us from a thorough-going sportsman of the name of Cecil. In a few words I think more was never spoken.”
“If not too much trouble,” said I, “it would gratify me to hear it repeated.”
“A pleased and patient listener,” returned Trimbush, “invariably renders me a willing speaker.” And after settling himself in a position of the greatest ease, he commenced the following philosophical dissertation on catering for foxhounds:
“It is a circumstance very universally remarked by masters of hounds, huntsmen, and others who are in the habit of making observations in the field, that hounds have appeared sooner blown when running on moist days during this season than usual. The cause has evidently arisen from the peculiar mildness of the weather. Whenever the atmosphere is damp and warm, it contains a less quantity of oxygen than when it is dry, clear, and bracing, and the effect on the respiratory organs of all animals when brought into active exertion is very apparent. Hounds have been observed to lap water when going to covert more freely on some occasions than others, which is also a symptom of the effect of the atmosphere.
“Liebig’s very clever work may be consulted to advantage, to ascertain how and why certain causes and effects in the animal economy are produced; but as many persons who may be interested on the subject have not an opportunity of procuring it, I will introduce a few abbreviated extracts, which are most particularly connected with the effects of food and the peculiar conditions of the atmosphere.
“Liebig says, ‘Two animals, which in equal times take up by means of the lungs and skin[2]unequal quantities of oxygen, consume quantities of the same nourishment which are unequal in the same ratio.