spot. But first of all the tufters'-some two couple of thoroughly staunch, fine-nosed hounds-are selected from the pack. The remainder are taken up in leashes, fastened to a light collar, which each hound wears, and after receiving orders move off to the spot where they are most likely to be at hand when needed. Far better is this than the plan of shutting up the body of the pack in a farmsteading or a stable, two or three miles from the scene of action, since they can, in the case of a long tuft, be moved from place to place and never be out of reach of the huntsman.

As soon as all hounds, except the tufters, are secured, the huntsman moves off, led by the harbourer, and we are soon at the spot which he marked, when at five o'clock that day the morning mists lifted as the dawn broke and showed him the deer we hope to handle before the sun sets. Here, then, eight hours afterwards, Mr. Lovell lays his hounds on the line, and it would fairly astound those who have only seen foxhounds drive after a fox, twenty minutes at the outside ahead of them, to see these hounds-of the same breed, and from the same kennels, perhaps, as those which they are accustomed to hunt with— take up the line of the deer, and, with lashing sterns and resonant tongues, work out the line foot by foot, yard by yard, till they fairly settle to it where the deer made his point from his feeding ground to his bed, and drive through the wood at a pace and with a cry that leads every stranger out to believe that the deer has just jumped up in front of them. Not a bit of it! the line is eight hours old, as I have said before, and although the hounds run it hard for a mile on the damp ground under the shade, yet a bit of dry ground brings them to their noses soon enough. Steadily they work it over the heath and dead fern, and 'Moonstone' hits it forward under the beeches. Each hound scores to cry, and they flash a little forward past yonder dense thicket of hollies, and all is mute again. A note on the horn and the huntsman holds them back, and as they pass to the leeward of the thicket you see each head flung upwards; a pause of a moment, and the hounds drive into the thorns as if they knew something.' Tally ho! There he goes! and out over the tops of the bushes bounds a grand buck, with horns as wide as the outspread palm of a man's hand, followed in a second by his friend, a deer even bigger than himself. Away go the tufters almost in view, away go master and whip: for, before anything can be done, these two deer must be separated. Nor does this take long; for both of them together plunge into the thickest part of the adjoining plantation. The cry of hounds can be just heard; till in the thickest part of it is heard a crash of music that betokens a view. Our active whip has clapped on to a spot whence he can see more ways at once than ordinary human eyes were contrived for, and in another moment you hear the crack of his whip thong, and a gentle rate as almost with a word he has stopped the well-trained tufters, who thoroughly understand what is meant. 'A single deer,

sir, so I stopped them,' is the explanation, but he is not the big one.' Hardly are the words spoken when a holloa is heard in the direction. from which we all came, and the harbourer arrives breathless-on the raggedest of ponies, with more bits of string in his bridle than ever were seen out of the harness to a donkey cart-to tell us that the big deer has just stolen quietly away on the very line on which he just came. To the uninitiated it seems all right and an extraordinary piece of luck; but to the master and his practised assistants it all 'reads like a book.' Both deer ran together to the thicket, and both no doubt dropped therein; but as the cry of the hounds came nearer and nearer, a vigorous drive from the older and stronger deer sent the 'weaker brother' flying from the covert, while he himself lay squatted securely, although the eager hounds ran almost over his back. Too cowardly, however, to remain in his fancied security, he stole quietly away as soon as he supposed the pack to be fairly settled on the line of his friend, and, overreaching himself, fell plump into the arms of the harbourer.

Here then is one of the chief of the many difficulties encountered by the man who endeavours to hunt the wild deer. The object of every old deer is to substitute another for himself at the earliest possible opportunity, and no pains are spared by him to achieve this object. In fact it may be taken for granted that if once the hounds are laid on to an old and cunning buck there will be on foot, in front of the pack, a younger or smaller deer within twenty minutes. It is here that all the huntsman's skill is required in order to detect the moment that the change takes place even though he may not view the deer, so that as soon as he can be assured that he is not hunting the warrantable deer he started with, he may go back and by a clever cast recover the line of him. However in this case all has gone well; one great difficulty is over and nothing remains but to call up the pack as quickly as possible and to lay them on to the line of the best of the two bucks. Not much time is lost over this, and it is a beautiful sight to see the huntsman bring up the eager well-trained pack clustering close round his horse's heels until he is within a few yards of the line of the deer. Then with one wave of his hand every hound is on the line and a glorious chorus bursts from them as they drive to the front like a field of horses starting for the Derby. Riders must sit down in the saddle and catch hold of their horses' heads if they mean to live with them as they swing over the open heather and grass at a pace that will soon choke off the butcher's boy out for a holiday, and the gentleman in livery who is trying to get the family carriage horse near enough to the front to see what mischief his young masters and mistresses are getting into. But it is too good to last-the deer is hardly yet aware that he is hunted, and has gone straight into the thickest part of one of the plantations, where he has again lain down. A check of a moment as the hounds

flash over the line, and then a deafening burst of music as swinging round they wind him and rouse him in their midst. Away he goes, but only runs a short ring, dodging backwards and forwards till a stranger exclaims that he is beat already!' Not so; he is but exercising his craft, and, while he turns short enough to baffle the hounds, he searches every thicket in order to push out a younger comrade to take his place and relieve him from the very awkward position he finds himself in. No such luck is in store for him to-day, and ere long, fairly frightened, he sets his head straight and abandoning for the present his wiles he takes refuge in flight. Running the whole length of the covert, he is viewed over the fence and away over the open moorland. Not far behind him are the hounds, and they stream over the heather in what has been well described as 'the mute ecstasy of a burning scent.' Mile after mile is covered; one large plantation is entered, but the pressed deer threads his way through the rides almost without touching the covert, and hardly a check has occurred till after forty minutes of hard galloping the hounds fling up on the further bank of a small river. There our deer has 'soiled,' nor has he very quickly left the cooling shelter; but it is a beautiful sight to see the older hounds carry the scent down the very middle of the water here questing the bubbles which float on the surface, there trying a rush or alder bough which, hanging over the water, has perchance scraped the deer's back and absorbed some of the scent particles steadily, if not rapidly, they carry the line down the water with ever and anon a deep note or light whimper as some subtle indication brings to the mind of some veteran of the pack assurance doubly sure that he is on the line of his quarry. A recollection of otter hunting comes involuntarily to the mind of the looker-on as he sees the whole pack driving down the bed of the stream, and he could almost expect to see them throw up and 'mark' at yonder cavernous root. It is a curious faculty, that of hunting the water in this way, and it seems to be born with some hounds, while others never acquire it. Doubtless it is hereditary, like the power of owning a line upon hard roads and similar places which some hounds have possessed in so marked a degree and transmitted to their progeny. But to our chase. A chorus from the pack marks the spot where our deer has left the water, after travelling for over half a mile down it. Yet the hounds cannot at first hunt the line of the wet animal as they could before he entered the river. Ere long, however, the scent improves, and the pack is soon driving along the green mossy glades of a beautiful oak wood, mixed with thickets of holly and blackthorn. Ah! what is that that bounds out of one of these thickets right in front of the leading hound? A doe, as I live! followed, by all that is unlucky! by one, two, three others! Of course the hounds have got a view and naturally are straining every nerve to catch the deer which fresh and not alarmed bound gaily in

front of them.

Here then is another of the manifold difficulties which the deer-hunter has to contend with-that of a change on to fresh quarry at the end of a fine run.

All seems lost; the hounds are running almost in view, and some of the more desponding of the field turn away for home.

Those who remain to see the end remark hopefully that the huntsman is not beat yet'-nor luckily is his horse, or that of his whip, and aided by a turn of speed and a knowledge of the line of the deer, they have got to the heads of the pack before they penetrated into the fastnesses of the neighbouring plantation. A blast on the horn, a rate and a crack of a whip, has stopped the pack, well-trained to do so. And so it is essential they should be, at whatever cost, in a country where this manœuvre must be so often repeated. But now the huntsman has his pack in hand, and it is for him to recover the line of his hunted buck, or else go home. He knows well how far they brought him, but all the ground forward of this point is foiled by fresh deer, and it will be no easy matter to keep clear of the lines which he knows to be wrong. Yet he has a strong opinion withal as to where his deer was making for, and very carefully and with judgment he holds his hounds forward on a wide swinging cast clear of foiled ground. See at the very end of his cast they hit a line, apparently a cold one, but those who know how the scent of a beaten deer fades away to nothing, become hopeful. The hounds too are very keen on the line, though they can hardly carry it on. At a soft place the master catches a glimpse of his slot, and is reassured to find that he is on the line of a single male deer at any rate. See, too, how the deer has followed every little watercourse and rill, however tortuous; none but a hunted deer would do this, and excitement becomes doubly keen after the late reverse, as the hounds' pace quickens and quickens, till the field is galloping again. Now they come down to the banks of a small stream, and carry the line down the water, to where the banks are covered with a dense growth of blackthorn. Suddenly all scent fails on the line, but every hound has flashed out, and on to the bank with his head and bristles up, 'feeling for the wind.' Look out! he is here! and ere the words are spoken the hunted buck bounds from the thicket, and strides over the heath almost like a fresh deer. And indeed many who see him think that he is a fresh-found deer, but those who had a good view of him in the morning know well that their huntsman's skill and patience and his good pack of hounds have brought this excellent chase. to a satisfactory finish, in spite of every difficulty. The buck runs gaily as long as he is in the open view of all, but as he gains the bushes his head droops, his tail drops flat, his stride contracts, and he shows that 'tucked up' appearance which in all quadrupeds is the indication of extreme fatigue. The hounds are close on him, and he regains the stream only to plunge into the deepest pool, and with

head erect, and noble mien, he sets up' at bay. The first hound that dares to approach is instantly driven under water, and crawls yelping from the stream to dry land, but the pack is at hand. The fallow deer can offer no resistance like that of his noble red congener, and in another moment the scene is a confused mass of muddy water, a dun carcase, a pair of antlers, and struggling hounds. Into this chaos descends the active whipper-in, an open knife in one hand and a hunting whip in the other. One rate, and the coast is clear-a flash in the sun-a wave of crimson rolling down the stream, and then two or three men are hauling the dead body of a magnificent deer up the bank surrounded by the pack whose deep baying is answered by the long blast of the horn and the thrilling whowhoop of the huntsman.

Well, it is all over, and we turn homewards not a little delighted with our day; it has been a fair sample of a good woodland chase. A dodging twenty minutes to start with a flying forty minutes to follow-one long check, and then half an hour of the most interesting hunting possible, terminating in a triumphant kill. One hour and forty minutes in all, and the deer lies dead eight good miles from the spot where the tufters first roused him, although the circuities of the chase have made us travel over far more ground than the point to point measurement shows. We shall have something to say to those faint-hearted sportsmen who 'went home to their tea' when the first reverse seemed to show that the termination of the run might not be all rose-coloured, but perhaps the idea of this detracts very little from our own feeling of self-satisfaction. The long shadows of the trees show us that it is time to seek a guide who knows well these solitudes to steer us to our home, and the setting sun is throwing a golden light on each gnarled trunk as we thread our way over the soft moss glowing in the slanting beams towards home. A chill feeling in the air and a dun look stealing over the distant heath-clad hill tell us that, warm and bright as the day has been, summer is not yet here in earnest, and a cheerful thought of glowing logs at home inclines us to quicken our pace. In all the homeward ride not a soul is encountered save those who have been our companions through the day, and we might from all appearance have been riding through the backwoods of America instead of having for the whole day pursued in a thoroughly wild country the wildest perhaps of all the sports left to us in England-the genuine old-fashioned chase' of our ancestors, in which every faculty of hound and of huntsman is most fully brought into play-and all this (strangest thought of all) within three short hours of London, in which busy metropolis it may be that more than one enthusiastic sportsman will lie down to rest to-night who has spent this day with us in the Chase of the Wild Fallow Deer.'

6

GERALD LASCELLES.