Part 29

A gentleman of the name of Pearson, residing in Essex, had a couple and a half of young and newly-entered hounds. One day they accidentally followed him in his ride, and strayed into a large covert by the roadside, and presently found something which they eagerly hunted. After trying a long time to halloo them off, Mr. Pearson proceeded to Colchester, where his business detained him some hours. Upon his return he heard them in the covert, and found, by some people at work by the side of it, that they had continued running during his absence, and had driven a fox over the field in which they were at work backward and forward several times. Mr. Pearson got as near to them as possible, continuing to give them every encouragement. After hunting the fox a long time in the covert he at last broke, and was killed after a run of some miles. The time these hounds were hunting was seven hours. Hounds have even been known to have continued a chase for ten hours, great part of the time being hard running. A fox was once unkennelled near Boroughbridge in Yorkshire, at twenty-seven minutes past nine, and except half-an-hour taken up in bolting him from a rabbit-burrow, the hounds had a continued run until fourteen minutes past five in the evening, when they killed the fox in good style. During this space of nearly eight hours of most severe running, several horses died in the field, and others were severely injured.

A hound, the property of Mr. Teasdale of Ousby, Cumberland, during a storm, took the quest of a fox, which he pursued for the extraordinary space of thirty hours, four of which were run within view of some miners, who were employed upon Dalton Fell. The dog and fox were at that time running round the bottom of a hill. The arch dog, still keeping on the side of Reynard which led to his clift in the rock, at last came up to him; but being so much exhausted by his toilsome chase, he was unable to make him his prey for some time, and they lay as if lifeless together. The miners then made up to his assistance; but so ardent was his desire to finish Reynard himself, that he would not suffer them to come near till he had destroyed him.

A foxhound bitch, in the middle of a chase, was taken in labour, and brought forth a puppy. Ardour for the pursuit, united to attachment for her progeny, induced her to snatch it up in her mouth, and follow her companions, with whom she soon came up, and in this interesting situation she continued the whole day,--a discredit to the huntsman, and all who joined in the pursuit, to allow the poor animal to undergo so violent an exercise under such circumstances.

In order to account for the power of endurance which foxhounds are known to possess, it should be mentioned that their strength is very great. A well-bred hound has been known to measure as much round the arm of the fore-leg as a moderate-sized horse does below the knee. I was assured of this fact by a well-known huntsman, and it may serve in some measure to account for the following instance of undeviating perseverance in a foxhound, related by Mr. Daniel in his Supplement to his "Rural Sports."

The circumstance took place in the year 1808, in the counties of Inverness and Perth, and perhaps surpasses any length of pursuit known in the annals of hunting. On the 8th of June in that year, a fox and hound were seen near Dunkeld in Perthshire, on the high road, proceeding at a slow trotting pace. The dog was about fifty yards behind the fox, and each was so fatigued as not to gain on the other. A countryman very easily caught the fox, and both it and the dog were taken to a gentleman's house in the neighbourhood, where the fox died. It was afterwards ascertained that the hound belonged to the Duke of Gordon, and that the fox was started on the morning of the 4th of June, on the top of those hills called Monaliadh, which separate Badenoch from Fort Augustus. From this it appeared that the chase lasted four days, and that the distance traversed from the place where the fox was unkennelled to the spot where it was caught, without making any allowances for doubles, crosses, &c., and as the crow flies, exceeded seventy miles.

It is a curious fact, that if a foxhound is taken for the first time into a new and strange country, and he is lost, when he returns to his kennel he does so across fields where he had never been before, and not by roads along which he had been taken out. A gentleman who kept foxhounds had an opportunity of observing this. His house and kennel were on the banks of a river, and a new hound accompanied the pack, which went across a bridge near the kennel. He was lost, and came back over the fields direct upon the kennel, and howled when he arrived on the banks of the river. We know but little of the peculiar instinct which thus enables dogs to find their way across a strange country.

Let me here give an anecdote that was communicated to me by the brother of the gentleman to whom it occurred. This gentleman was a rigid Roman Catholic, and his constant companion was a foxhound. As soon as the forty days of Lent began, this dog left his master and came to the house of my informant, some miles distant, where he found food to his liking, and stayed with him during Lent, at the end of which he returned to his owner. He must have measured time very accurately, and has continued the practice for some years.

In the year 1813 some hounds belonging to his late Majesty, George III., were sold to Mr. Walker, of Mitchell Grove, near Worthing. A few weeks after their arrival at that place, one couple of them were sent in a stage-waggon to Dr. Willis, then living near Stamford in Lincolnshire. The wagon went through London, and from thence to Dr. Willis's seat. However surprising it may appear, one of these dogs, in less than a month after he had left the kennel near Windsor, found his way back to it. It might be supposed that in this length of time all recollection would have ceased, but such we have seen was not the case.

The circumstance which happened to the late Duke of Northumberland's pack proves the foxhound's eagerness after his game. In 1796 the hounds ran a fox into a very large furze-cover near Alnwick, called Bunker's Hill, where he was lost in an earth which no one knew of. Upon the dogs coming to the kennel two couple and a half of the best of them were missing, and not returning that night, it was thought they had found a fox, and had gone off by themselves in pursuit of him. Several men were sent in search of them to all the earths and crags for twenty miles round, but no tidings could be gained of them. The course where the fox was lost was then searched, and the earth discovered, and in digging about two yards deep, one dog was found; several yards further three more, fast in the ground; and two yards deeper the fifth was dug up. They were all dead.

It is well known to those who served in the Peninsular War, that the late Lord Hill kept a pack of foxhounds while he commanded a division of the army. During a period of repose a fox was unkennelled in the neighbourhood of Corja, in Spain. The run was severe for the space of thirty minutes, when the fox, being sharply pressed by the leading hounds, leaped down a precipice of sixty yards perpendicular. Seven couple of the hounds immediately dashed after him, six couple of which were killed on the spot. The remainder of the pack (twenty-two couple) would probably have shared the same fate, had not the most forward riders arrived in time to flog them off, which they did with difficulty, being scarcely able to restrain their impetuosity. The fox was found at the bottom, and covered with the bodies of the hounds.

I might have hesitated to mention the following fact, had it not been witnessed by some well-known sportsmen of the present day.

During a severe chase, and towards the termination of it, when the fox was in view, another fox was seen, to the astonishment of the forward riders, running in the middle of the pack of hounds, perfectly unnoticed by them. It is supposed that the dogs ran over this fox, who, finding himself in the midst of them, probably thought it the safest and wisest plan he could pursue to continue with them till he had an opportunity of making his escape.

In relating anecdotes of foxhounds it is almost unavoidable not to mention fox-hunters, and we know not how we can give to our readers a better notion of the stirring spirit and devotion to their sport, distinguishing them beyond all other sportsmen, than by offering some extracts from the pen of the late Colonel Cook, a master of hounds, beloved by all who knew him, and venerated by those who hunted with him.

Hounds will not work through difficulties, nor will they exert themselves in that killing sort of manner when they are out of blood. If after all you should, owing to ill-luck and bad weather, be in want of it, the best way is to leave an earth open in a country where you can spare a fox, and where you can without much trouble dig him, give him to the hounds on the earth, and go home. But whatever you do, never turn out a bag-fox; it is injurious to your hounds, and makes them wild and unsteady: besides, nothing is more despicable, or held in greater contempt by real sportsmen, than the practice of hunting bag-foxes. It encourages a set of rascals to steal from other hunts; therefore keep in mind, that if there were no receivers there would be no thieves. What chiefly contributes to make fox-hunting so very far superior to other sports is the wildness of the animal you hunt, and the difficulty in catching him. It is rather extraordinary, but nevertheless a well-known fact, that a pack of hounds, which are in sport and blood, will not eat a bag-fox. I remember hearing an anecdote (when I was in Shropshire many years ago) of the late Lord Stamford's hounds, which I will relate to you as I heard it. Lord Forester, and his brother, Mr. Frank Forester, then boys, were at their uncle's for the holidays. A farmer came to inform them a fox had just been seen in a tree. All the nets about the premises were collected, and the fox was caught; but the Squire of Wiley, a sportsman himself, and a strict preserver of foxes, sent the fox immediately to Lord Stamford by one of his tenants, that he might be informed of the real circumstance. The next day the hounds were out, and also the Squire's tenant; they had drawn some time without finding, when the farmer reminded his Lordship of the fox caught. 'Do you think,' said he, 'I will allow my hounds to hunt a bag-fox? I should never be forgiven by my huntsman!' At last, after drawing several coverts without finding, his Lordship gave his consent (but it was to be kept a great secret), and the bag was to be touched upon the ground in a line for a covert they were going to draw, to have the appearance of a disturbed fox, and the fox to be turned down in it.

On going to covert, a favourite hound, called Partner, feathered on the scent. The huntsman exclaimed in ecstacy, 'Old Partner touches on him; we shall certainly find in the next covert.' They found the bag-fox, and had a tolerable run; but when they killed him, not a hound would eat him! 'Now, Sir,' said his lordship to the farmer, 'you have deceived the huntsman and the field, but you cannot deceive my hounds.'

Next to turning out bag-men, lifting of hounds is the most prejudicial. They should seldom be taken 'off their noses,' nothing is gained by it in the end; hounds that are seldom lifted will kill more foxes in the course of a season than those that frequently are. Some years ago, when hunting with the Duke of Grafton's hounds in Suffolk, they came to a check all in a moment, at a barn near some cross-roads; they were left alone, and made a fling of themselves, in a perfect circle, without hitting the scent; many gentlemen exclaimed, 'It is all over now, Tom; the only chance you have is to make _a wide cast_.' 'No,' answered the huntsman, 'if the fox is not in that barn, my hounds ought to be hung.'

Dick Foster, the whipper-in, now huntsman to Mr. Villebois (and a very good one he is), was ordered to dismount and see if he could discover the fox; he returned and said he was _not_ there.' Tom Rose still was positive; at last he was viewed on a beam in the barn, and they killed him, after a further run of about a mile. I mention this trivial circumstance to show you clearly, that if the hounds had been hurried up either of the roads on a wide cast, made by an ignorant huntsman, the fox would inevitably have been lost.

Were I to have some sporting friends coming to see my hounds in the field, I should prefer going away _close at him_ for twenty minutes, then a short check, to bring the hounds to a hunting scent, and a quick thing at last, and run into him, in order that my friends might be convinced the hounds could _hunt_ as well as run; for of this I am certain, if they cannot do _both_, they merit not the name of foxhounds.

[Illustration: HEAD OF A FAVORITE FOX-HOUND.]

[Illustration: HOUNDS IN A BATH.]

[Illustration: THE BEAGLE.]

THE BEAGLE.

The beagle may be mentioned as a sort of foxhound in miniature, and nothing can well be more perfect than the shape of these small dogs. But how different are they in their style of hunting! The beagle, which has always his nose to the ground, will puzzle for a length of time on one spot, sooner than he will leave the scent. The foxhound, on the contrary, full of life, spirit, and high courage, is always dashing and trying forward. The beagle, however, has extraordinary perseverance, as well as nicety of scent, and also a liveliness of manner in hunting, which, joined to its musical and melodious note, will always afford pleasure to the lovers of the chase, or at least to those who are unable to undertake the more exciting sport of fox-hunting. In rabbit-shooting, in gorse and thick cover, nothing can be more cheerful than the beagle; and they have been called rabbit-beagles from this employment, for which they are peculiarly qualified, especially those dogs which are somewhat wire-haired.

In the reign of Queen Elizabeth a race of beagles had been bred so small, that a pack of them could be carried out to the field in a pair of panniers. That Princess is said to have had little _singing beagles_, a single one of which could be placed in a man's glove, and they probably at this time received the name of _lap-dog_ beagles. Dryden, in his "Fables," alludes to these dogs as follows:--

"The graceful goddess was array'd in green; About her feet were little beagles seen, That watch'd with upward eyes the motions of their queen."

Pope also mentions them,--

"To plains with well-bred beagles we repair, And trace the mazes of the circling hare."

[Illustration]

[Illustration: THE MASTIFF.]

THE MASTIFF.

"Great Brittain was so noted for its Mastiffs, that the Roman Emperors appointed an Officer in this Island, with the title of Procurator Cynegii, whose sole business was to breed, and transmit from hence to the Amphitheatre, such as would prove equal to the combats of the place:

Magnaque taurorum fracturi colla Britanni."

This noble dog, which, like the bull-dog, is supposed to be an original breed peculiar to this country, is now seldom to be met with in its pure state, it having been crossed and recrossed with other dogs. Perhaps the finest specimen now to be found is one at Chatsworth (where also is to be seen a noble Alpine mastiff). It is a dog of gigantic size, of a yellowish colour, with a black muzzle. There is also another at Elvaston Castle in Derbyshire, not so large as the one at Chatsworth, but apparently of the true breed, and for which we believe Lord Harrington gave the sum of fifty guineas.

These dogs are brave, faithful to their trust in an extraordinary degree, and have a noble disposition.

Their strength also is very great, and their bark deep and loud. Sir Walter Scott's remarks on the character of the dog may be well applied to the mastiff,--"The Almighty, who gave the dog to be the companion of our pleasures and our toils, hath invested him with a nature noble and incapable of deceit. He forgets neither friend nor foe--remembers, and with accuracy, both benefit and injury. He hath a share of man's intelligence, but no share of man's falsehood. You may bribe a soldier to slay a man with his sword, or a witness to take life by false accusation, but you cannot make a dog tear his benefactor. He is the friend of man, save when man justly incurs his enmity."

The mastiff, indeed, usually shows a remarkable and peculiar warmth in his attachments; and, on the other hand, he will evince his dislike in the strongest manner. It has been observed of him, that if he is once severely corrected or insulted, it is almost impossible to eradicate the feeling from his memory, and it is no less difficult to attain a reconciliation with him. He seems conscious of his own strength, power, and authority, and will seldom condescend to lower his dignity by servile fawning; while he appears to consider his services as only befitting a trust of the highest importance. He is naturally possessed of strong instinctive sensibility, speedily obtains a knowledge of all the duties required of him, and discharges them with the most punctual assiduity. His vigilance is very striking. He makes regular rounds of the premises committed to his care, examines every part of them, and sees that everything is in a state of perfect security. During the night he will give a signal of his presence by repeated barkings, which are increased upon the least cause of alarm. Unlike the bull-dog, the mastiff always warns before he attacks. His voice is deep and powerful in tone.

Such is the animal of which I now propose to give a few characteristic anecdotes.

About the year 1742, a lady, who resided in a lone house in Cheshire, permitted all her servants, except one female, to go to a supper and dance at a Christmas merry-meeting, held at an inn about three miles distant, and kept by the uncle of the maid who had remained in the house with her mistress. The servants were not expected back till the morning; consequently the doors and windows were, as usual, secured, and the lady and her servant were going to bed, when they were alarmed by the voice of some persons apparently attempting to break into the house. Fortunately a great mastiff dog, named Cæsar, was in the kitchen, and set up a tremendous barking, which, however, had not the effect of intimidating the robbers. The maid-servant distinctly heard that the attempt to enter the house was made by the villains endeavouring to force a way through a hole under the sunk story in the adjoining back-kitchen or scullery. Being a young woman of courage, she went towards the spot, accompanied by the dog, and patting him on the back, exclaimed, "At him, Cæsar!" The dog made a furious attack on the person who seemed to be at the hole, and gave something a violent shake, when all became quiet, and the animal returned to her with his mouth all besmeared with blood. She afterwards heard some little bustle outside of the house, which soon was stilled. The lady and servant sat up until morning, without farther molestation, when, on going into the court, a quantity of blood was found on the outside of the wall. The other servants, on their return, brought word to the maid that her uncle, the innkeeper, had died suddenly during the course of the night--they understood of a fit of apoplexy--and was intended to be buried that day. The maid got leave to go to the funeral, and was surprised to find the coffin on her arrival screwed down. She insisted on taking a last view of the body, which was most unwillingly granted; when, to her great surprise and horror, she found his death had been occasioned from his throat being torn open. What had happened the evening before immediately rushed to her imagination, and it appeared too evident to her that she had been the innocent cause of her uncle's death; and, upon further inquiry, it was proved that he and one of his servants had formed the design of robbing the house and murdering the lady, in her unprotected condition, during the absence of her servants; but, by the watchfulness and courage of her dog, their design was frustrated.

An anecdote is related of a mastiff, who, in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, when Lord Buckhurst was ambassador at the Court of Charles the Ninth, alone and unassisted, successively engaged a bear, a leopard, and a lion, and pulled them all down.

Very extraordinary stories have been told of these and some other kinds of dogs discovering and circumventing plans to injure the persons of their masters, in which it is difficult to place implicit credit. We give one of the most marvellous of these anecdotes, as it is usually related:--

Sir H. Lee, of Ditchley, in Oxfordshire, ancestor of the late Earls of Lichfield, had a mastiff which guarded the house and yard, but had never met with any particular attention from his master. In short, he was not a favourite dog, and was retained for his utility only, and not from any partial regard.