44

FOX-HUNTING IN THE SOUTH OF FRANCE.

MR. EDITOR,-I am encouraged to write a second article on this subject by a short criticism on the first, which I read in a London paper ; being thus assured that you considered it worthy of your columns.

Our season heretofore has generally commenced on the first Tuesday in November (our hunting days are Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday), and the meet is at the race-course on the Bordeaux road. It is generally attended by a pretty large concourse of ladies in carriages, townspeople on foot, and by a good sprinkling of the subscribers, in scarlet; thus presenting with the well-conditioned pack of staunch-looking English hounds, attended by a huntsman and whipper-in, clothed in the regular English hunting garb, with their little business-like horns at the saddlebows-a spectacle which would undoubtedly cheer the heart of any lover of the glorious sport who might dash by, en poste, on his way to the pretty little town of Pau. Last year, I find by my journal that the almost summer heat of the sun obliged us to defer the " opening to Saturday, the 6th. Even then we found the weather far from prepitious from the same cause, and proceeded to draw Pau Wood, with slight hopes of a run. We soon found, as we generally do at this capital "meet" but there was no scent, and after galloping about the wood for a long time without ever once being on good terms with our fox, and despairing of forcing him out upon the Landes, which, notwithstanding the extent of this wood, we generally succeed in doing, we gave it up as a bad case. On the following day arrived that first-rate man (with hounds) and capital companion in the field, Lieutenant-Colonel Whyte, preceding by a few days his string of three judiciously-selected horses, with which he was destined soon to lead the field. Being chief proprietor of some promising coal-mines in the neighbourhood, he had been persuaded by his brother, former master of this pack, to bring out two or three horses, with which to while away the time at this otherwisedull little place. One glance at the kind of animal he had chosen showed he had received a correct description of the country, which requires rather a clever and active horse than an extraordinary jumper or a flyer. A more cramped and puzzling description of fence cannot be conceived the banks are made from the earth excavated from the ditches, which are deep and cut in the shape of wedge, while the former go up to a point, so that they offer a very insecure footing to a horse; and woe be to the rider if his steed should roll back into these formidablelooking ditches, often full of water, with him underneath!

On Tuesday we met at Assat. After drawing some small covers, we found in a little wood, where "hanging" was out of the question; and as the carths were close by on the side of an almost-perpendicular hill, Reynard made a dash for them: finding them well stopped, he flew down the opposite side, and took his course along the valley, over a very good hunting country, and being closely pressed, tried to dodge

his pursuers by coming back over nearly the same line, and was finally picked up by old "Fallacy" in a small stream of water, after a delightful little run of about forty minutes. The foxes of this country are generally what are called "short runners," and double just like hares; when dead beat they almost always take refuge in the little streams by which this country is intersected.

On Thursday, the 11th, we met at the junction of the Tarbes and Morlaas roads, in order to draw some gorse on the edge of the Landes. The previous season we had had a capital run from it, and hoped for equal luck this time, but were disappointed. In such a climate as this one is frequently consoled for blank days by the exhilarating and cheerful weather; indeed, the brightness of the sun is one of the main obstacles to a sure find and good scent. Driving to the meet over the glorious roads of this part of France, without the drawback of a single toll-gate, on a bright, clear morning, with the hoar-frost glittering in the sun like so many diamond-drops, is of itself a source of exquisite enjoyment. If uncheered by a single whimper while standing at the covert's side, there is often consolation in basking in the sun's warm rays; and then what pleasure in trotting on to another covert, in the midst of the indescribably beautiful scenery of this country!

My journal tells me that on the following Saturday there was no meet, in consequence of the horse fair. Formerly this country was celebrated for a breed of well-bred, wiry little horses, descendants of the Arab, which were not to be surpassed for bottom by any race in Europe. Occasionally one can pick up a pure-bred little animal of the country, but they are almost extinct as a distinct breed. In our hunt there are three or four; and for light weights, from eight to ten stone, it would be impossible to find elsewhere a species of nag better suited to this cramped country. The introduction of the English horse-for we have a haras here has destroyed this peculiar breed, producing generally washy and leggy animals, which are good for nothing in the hunting field, although making good "flatcatchers" in other respects. The peasants in this neighbourhood have a bad habit of not always cutting their colts, which they bring to market unbroken at the age of three and four years. The great demand for mules for the Spanish market --which are readily sold at this time for twelve pounds and upwards, at the age of six months-renders the breeding of this description of animal so lucrative, that the raising of horses is much neglected.

Tuesday, the 16th, the meet was at the twelfth mile-stone on the Bordeaux road, to draw Sauvagnon, a fine large covert, nearly always holding a fox, but difficult to get away from. On this occasion the pack was soon in full ery, and three or four times we were in hopes Reynard would take to the open; but his heart failed him, and it became evident that he was doomed to die in covert. A "who-whoop!" from the huntsman proclaimed that all his dodging and doubling had failed in baffling his staunch pursuers. He had been taken in a little stream, and turned out to be the largest and fattest old dog-fox I almost ever saw. Had the country people caught a glimpse of him, they would undoubtedly have called him a wolf, which they are very apt to do even in the case of smaller specimens. The brush of this gentleman was presented, as an encouragement, to a young officer of the "Etat Major," who had joined us to-day for the first time. He appeared

somewhat astounded at the rapidity with which the hounds disposed of the tough old fellow, skin, bones, and all. We then proceeded, drawing some smaller coverts on our way, to Séver, which is one of our crack places. On this occasion we drew it blank.

On Tuesday, the 23rd, we met at the old kennel, and proceeded to Lans. This is forbidden ground to our hunt, as several of the coverts belong to an old imperial officer commanding the department, who was made prisoner by our countrymen during the Peninsular War—a circumstance which has not tended to make him very amicably inclined towards us and our sports. The sight of the scarlet coats, associated with so many signal defeats to his otherwise invincible countrymen, flitting about in his woods, may not be fraught with much consolation to one of his irritable temperament; and it is therefore charitable not to be too hard upon him for his churlishness, particularly as we do not allow it to interfere with us in drawing his woods. On this particular occasion we found a dashing fine fox right under his nose, and rattled through his spinnies as if we were conferring a great benefit upon their gallant owner. Unfortunately, Reynard, from having breakfasted too bountifully, or from being very unwilling to face the open, sought refuge in a small earth, from which being bolted by old Fallacy, he got chopped up, and thus we had run the risk of a suit for trespass with but slight compensation. Some years ago this old gentleman had our huntsman imprisoned for presuming to enter his domains-a circumstance which prevented our being surprised on receiving a message from the keeper, on the following day, that the next time we were guilty of a trespass we would get a "procès verbal."

I find that the heat prevented my turning out on the next hunting day. As nothing was done from the want of scent, I was spared the mortification which one feels at having missed a good thing, escaping likewise, in all probability, a rattling headache.

On Saturday, "Gardères" was the rallying cry. This is one of our best meets, and is consequently sure to draw together a good field, notwithstanding the great distance. Mr. Livingstone's drag picked us up, and in little more than an hour our merry little party found itself at the twenty-first kilometre on the Tarbes road, after a most delightful drive over a road which left nothing to desire, and with weather completely in unison with the brightness of our hopes.... The wood we were to draw lies about eight kilometres to the north of the main road, so that we still had a good half-hour's ride before us. Drawing this one blank, we trotted on to Seron, where we were more lucky in respect to finding, but unluckily no one got away with the hounds but Colonel W. and the huntsman. After much delay we were enabled to get on their track, and, by asking the country people, succeeded in coming up with them at the end of forty minutes; but it was all over, the fox having gone to ground: otherwise it was one of the best, straightest, and fastest runs of the whole season, and over a country which was pronounced by the lucky colonel to be the best he had seen here. The whole line having been pointed out to us, and hoping for better luck next time, we turned our heads homewards, the majority of us less cheerful than at setting out in the morning, for to lose such a run was indeed a misfortune. We were somewhat consoled, however, as we went along, by a little larking over some very tempting banks and ditches.

which served to test the fitness for this "country" of one or two Irish hunters "out" for the first time on this occasion. Our previous disappointment must be our excuse for this unsportsman-like proceeding. . . . . This fox was afterwards dug out by our earthstopper, who came up after our departure; but he was ordered to turn her down again on the Landes, in hopes she would return to her former haunts.

Tuesday, the 30th, we killed at Assat, from the same little covert in which we found on the previous occasion, after a capital little run over a rather hilly country.

After various success, and a pretty long interruption from frost, I find by my journal that on the 24th of December we had sport worthy of being chronicled in your pages. Killing a bag fox after a quick scurry over the Landes, we threw the hounds into the "Madeleine,' a thick covert of underbrush lying on the outskirts of the Pau wood. The merry cry of the gallant little pack soon proclaimed Reynard at home. A sudden lull brought our huntsman to the ground, who, dashing into the wood, soon announced that the "varmint" had taken earth. Our vigilant earthstoppers were quickly summoned to the rescue, and pending their operations we sought refuge from the passing storms under a shed close by. Fifteen minutes' "law" being granted, the hounds were again laid on, and right merrily they dashed on, skirting Pau wood, which we feared for a moment they were going to enter; but no, they head for the hills across the Landes. Now for the rasper out upon the plain and the bog beyond, will the passage made last year bear us now? A peasant points to the direction in which it lies. "Commodore," badly put at the towering bank and yawning ditch, refuses; young Livingstone, on one of his uncle's Irish horses, dashes over amid the cheers of the field, closely followed by his uncle, while the others dismount and lead over. Young L., ignorant of the danger, rushes through the treacherous passage which his light weight and stout horse enabled him to extricate himself from without accident, but the others, more prudent, led over; the colonel's gallant grey, even with this assistance, rolls toppling over into the slimy waters, while the rest, more lucky, tear on after the pack, already half-way over the Landes. These are crossed; a momentary check brings up the field. Again the pack opens, forward for the hills and Séver. At this point Mr. L. gets a tremendous "header" over a boggy "run" of water, his horse breaking away from him over the almost-boundless waste of Landes. A little further on, young L., who had been thrown out by a momentary cessation of the sweet music, rides most unsuspectingly into the farm-yard of a Spaniard a most determined adversary of all trespassers upon his property-and asks which way the hounds had gone.

"Come here, my young friend," says the treacherous Bon, while three or four workpeople commence surrounding the trusting young sportsman, " and I will show you."

The closing of the gate and something sinister in the motions and language (young L. understands and speaks their "patois" perfectly) arouses at last his suspicions that they are going to beat him; so with admirable presence of mind he casts a glance around, and with a touch of the spur tops the wall, to the utter consternation of the beholders, who little dreamed there was any exit from their claws. Turning round and taking a "sight" at the enraged Spaniard, who had now thrown off

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all disguise, he coolly galloped off, and was soon up with the field. The stormy gusts of wind and rain had gradually washed out the scent, so that after successive casts and a little cold hunting, the pack was called off, thus terminating one of the most exciting day's sport of the season. Here I must conclude this long epistle, that I may not trespass upon your indulgence, leaving for a future occasion the conclusion of my "Journal" of the Pau fox-hunt during the season of 1847-8.

I will merely remark, en passant, that our new master, Mr. Livingstone, has made every preparation in his power to ensure sport. He has turned down nine fine cubs in the Pau wood, and has advertised for more, offering ten francs each for all living specimens. He deserves to be liberally supported; for if he gives up the management, this little place will lose, I am afraid for ever, its greatest and most peculiar attraction. ONE OF THEM,

Pau, Sept. 18th, 1848,

NOTES OF THE CHASE.

BY CECIL.

THE SOUTH BERKSHIRE, THE H. H., AND THE VINE. When we find a very superior sportsman in a very moderate country, at the head of a very nice and clever pack of hounds (which, by the way, a good judge is certain to establish), several considerations present themselves to the imagination, How is it, one enquires, that a man endowed with so much talent is contented without ample scope for the full development of his powers? The reply may be that he is attached to the locality by circumstances; the most satisfactory motive that can be offered. It conveys a sentiment abounding with the best intentions, and merits no trifling degree of esteem and confidence from those who are alike identified with the neighbourhood. When a gentleman's ability in such a difficult avocation as that of a master of foxhounds is publicly known, he need not wait long without being installed in a good country if he think proper to accept it; and in this spirit a feeling of regret is inculcated that superior science should be restrained from want of an arena wherein its utmost power is capable of being exemplified,

Reports had reached me of the superiority of the South Berkshire hounds, under the management of Mr. George Montague; therefore, having an opportunity of meeting them at Aldermaston, I could not permit so good a chance to pass away without availing myself of the opportunity. When our expectations are elevated, disappointment frequently ensues; but not so in this instance; the encomiums I had heard, flattering as they were, did not exceed that which was realized. Punctual to the time, at the place of meeting, I found a very clever pack of hounds in excellent condition. They are smaller than the generality of the present day; but in a woodland country, such as they have