Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

rushed Stump; into the hedge rushed the baron, the hedge shaking to its very foundation, as if some mighty conflict was going on within its precincts. I concluded that nothing less than a wolf or some outlying deer had been found and shot. Presently out backed the baron, then out backed the pointer, the former waving his cap in triumph. The dog for the first time cocked his stump, and gambolled and yelped in token of his master's prowess. I got out, concluding I at least, if not the driver also, was being beckoned to, to help to bring up the quarry; but as the baron advanced he flourished in his left hand, not, of course, a wolf or deer, but a FULL-GROWN THRUSH. How did he now expatiate on the unerringness of the shot! how did he describe and dilate on the nearness of the escape of the bird! how many "petits coquins" did he call his favourite, who had, it seemed, disputed the possession of the prize: and when in the fiacre again, what a laying down the bird there was! what caution to the dog there was not to ruffle a feather! what "fi done's!" there were if he attempted to do so; what caresses when he did not! "Well," soliloquized I," the true philosophy of life is to be happy when we can; and as substantial occasions for being so occur so rarely in this life, perhaps he who is made happy by trifles acts the wisest part. The field of Cressy might entitle an English prince to feel himself a hero and a conqueror; but why should a French baron slaughter thousands, when he feels himself as great through the mere instrumentality of a thrush and a stump-tailed pointer?"

I have been led into this little digression from my tale by my own reflection, as the baron was from his progression by the thrush; thus, on the score of excuse, we stand on about equal terms. We will now get on again; and get we did to the baron's loge de chasse, or, par excellence, chateau. Here we got out: nor were my anticipations of what was to come at all raised by the general appearance of the place. The baron, however, jumping out, began rubbing his hands in high glee; while the pointer, in the exuberance of his joy, scoured round the yard, driving every fowl, duck, turkey, goose, and capon in most "admired disorder." A man in a blue frock and red cap, who gloried in the name of François, welcomed the baron; while Formose, in the person of a very ill-looking boy, made his obedience to his master, at the same time energetically cutting legumes for the bouillon: the former I found enacted the parts of piqueur, garde chasse, and general homme d'affaires to the baron; while the Cupid Formose was valet d'ecurie, and in short, valet de any-and-everything. So soon as our cocher and François had sufficiently kissed each other, I inquired of the latter for my man and nag. My inquiry for my man was answered by the baron, saying, had he thought I wished my man to be here he should have come with us; but the look of astonishment that followed my expecting or wanting my horse could only have been equalled had I asked for the Cham of Tartary, the great mammoth, or the young lady who cut watch-papers with her toes. Was I going "en voyage?" did I intend to " promener â cheval?" Holding up my leg, I asked if he thought I had put on spurs to assist me in walking. This brought out a full explanation: so finding hunting to be out of the question, I made up my mind to make

the best of it; in reward of which philosophic resolve, up came my man and horse, the former looking not quite so amiable as a bear in a bad humour. My man's delay had been occasioned in the following manner: I had told him over night that the MEET would be at or near the chateau. He had overtaken two Frenchmen on the road, with their dogs and guns: so, Englishman-like, he concluded that as they appeared like sportsmen, they would certainly know where the MEET was; and having heard the baron and I use the word chasse, he concluded it meant that; so on encountering the Frenchmen he mustered French enough to use the word chasse, intimating by pointing forwards that he wanted to get there. "Oui, mon amie— yes," cried one of the shooters, pointing to a cover at some distance. Tom thought he was all right. The Frenchman, flattered by the idea that he was anxious to see them shoot, opened the barrieres for him, which for once in his life made Tom civil to and think well of a Frenchman. Arrived at the cover on a hill, Tom looked round, but saw neither hound nor, as he expected, red coats, nor any coats coming up. He now saw something was wrong, and, I have no doubt, bestowing some of those choice blessings on the heads of the shooters that he always so liberally bestowed on every Frenchman he met with, whether deservedly or not, he cantered back to the chateau, ready charged, as I perceived, for a fresh volley. To put him on better terms with himself and the world, I took him into the chateau, trusting to the effects of a glass or two of Cognac, the homo in blue body and red cap holding my nag the while; in return for which, Mr. Tom, on mounting his horse, shook his fist in the man's face, muttering something like "sarving him out;" but knowing that the idea was very likely to be followed by practical explanation, I hurried him off. The man of blue and red taking, as all Frenchmen do, everything as a compliment that does not amount to undisputable insult, politely lifted the red cap on Tom's riding off; in return for which courtesy Tom made a significant gesture, accompanied by an exposure well known in England, and alluding of course to the man and his master, I heard him d-n them for two French-barons was not certainly the term he used, no matter what it was. I saw him safely on the road back to Dunkirk.

I now returned to the house, from whence I was introduced to the stud, consisting of two nondescript horses and a beast, the pet of the baron, who was shortly expected to favour her master with a progeny begat God knows how, where, or when. From this I was shown the chiens de chasse, including two old English spaniels, and a pointer that the baron brought indisputable proof forward of being own brother. to him of the stump.

My good stars now prevailed. It came on to rain in torrents, and the baron having been told by Formose that the hare he had come to shoot had not been seen the preceding day, it was put to me, with many apologies, whether a more propitious day would not be preferable pour la chasse. I most energetically avowed it would. The fiacre was brought out, and we started homewards. Overtaking Tom on the road, he touched his hat: this I knew was for me; but a certain repetition of the expletive used on quitting the chateau in the

plural, but now in the singular number, I fear was intended for the baron, who, I must say, gave me a most excellent dinner, and among many good things, but as a bonne bouche, in a handsome silver dish was served up THE THRUSH.

I returned to England soon after this, without going to see the turn-out at St. Omer's, and though I never object to raise a laugh at my own expense, I must candidly allow I never mentioned my hunting expedition with the baron, when two days after landing I met the King's Hounds, at Stoke; nor was I more communicative among the yellow capes at Gerard's Cross when I met them. Poor Tom! thine and many a gallant heart of that hunt has ceased to beat since then. "Sic transit," &c., &c.

RECOLLECTIONS OF OTTER-HUNTING. BY BERRY'S-Frere.

(Continued.)

The ensuing spring was as remarkable for the inspiring assurances it gave of a fine season for the otter-hunters of N.D. as the previous one had been vexatious and discouraging. April, May, and June had passed over, each month having afforded days and deaths well worthy of reminiscence; but for the present I shall confine my recollections to the sport of two days in July, since they are connected with the same streams and localities.

I well remember that-in consequence of the near approach of a certain delicate and interesting event that awaited the proprietor of the N.D. Hounds-the latter portion of the month of June, and the early part of July, had elapsed without the usual meets and brilliant days of aquatic sport that had been customary during former years. But the arrival of unexpected yet certain intelligence that an otter had been seen at noon-day on the L. Stream, backed up by the presumption of the low state of the waters affording an easy conquest, was all-powerful with the proprietor of the N.D. Hounds; and his previous excuse of "I am about to be spliced, and cannot well go," was laid aside, his kennel-door thrown joyously open, and his pole poised in air as his merry pack crossed the threshold at the hour of 3 P.M. Within the next hour we had passed over the long bridge, and entered the little town of B- that poured forth a strong lot of followers, ranging from the real lovers of the sport to those who, being released from the duties of their respective callings, had determined to gather fresh air and wholesome exercise in witnessing the sport of otter-hunting, which the usual early hours of meeting, and the uncertainty of a find, deter many from enjoying. One and all, however, seemed to seize on the present opportunity afforded them with avidity, and the N.D. Hounds left the streets, followed by a goodly muster of professionals, commercials, and artificers.

As the vale of the L. Stream gradually opened to view, frequent and anxious inquiries as to the whereabouts of our game circulated through the really monster party that moved up the side of the winding T-, to where it receives the tributary waters of the L. Stream, at which spot the opening tongue of Old Harmony silenced all further inquiry, corroborated the previously received intelligence, and removed the weight of responsibility that might possibly have oppressed the feelings of the bearer thereof.

Though the tide had flown and ebbed, her tender nose and mellow tongue proclaimed the existence of a morning trail, and the practised eye of her proprietor discovered the seal imprinted on some treacherous mud a few paces above the point where the old bitch had first opened on the scent. Tippler's muzzle, however, soon spoilt its beautiful proportions, and his deep tongue spoke it to be that of his game; now Climbank, Shake-a-back, and Netherby were chaunting on the line, and alternately doubling their tongues as they too snuffed the trail. And passing on from the salt portion to the freshest of the stream, and from stale trail to warmer, the valley soon rang with the harmony of some ten couple of well-blended tongues, that rattled up stream with a now reeking scent. The favouring shallowness of the water caused it to be an up-nose and down-stern affair, till the Old Culvet's gushing mouth changed the previous harmony to an angry baying of the pack; but a judicious cast made by the proprietor on the next shallow again renewed the exciting and harmonious pursuit, to which he gaily cheered them with such shouts as fired all sportsmen's souls with enthusiasm and delight, and seemed to convey a portion of the same impulses to the varied party around him.

The old adage of "prevention being better than a cure" happily crossed my memory as the gallant pack raced away with the burning trail from the stickle next above the Old Culvet; and, in consequence, I forbore the delight of following the bewitching crash, to take precautions against the possibility of an entrance by our game into a stronghold from which ejectment was hopeless if once gained. The evening breeze came laden with such echoes as made my hands more thrifty in the construction of certain means of hindrance I was raising at either end to preclude an entry to all save the water, which was but little restrained in its usual entrance and exit, and caused a nervous anxiety to be off, that was gratified as soon as the Culvet's mouths were secured in the most effectual manner my ingenuity could devise. Though I put my best pace in requisition, and sustained it for better than a mile, it was of no avail: I was too late to see the finish of this glorious trail, that was crowned with a find of so brilliant a nature as to eclipse all the proprietor of the hounds had ever previously beheld, at such time as

"The weary sun hath made a golden set,
And by the bright track of his fiery car
Gives token of a goodly day to-morrow."

Such was his description of it, and I can assure my readers he has witnessed many.

Though the Factory Pool bore testimony of the drought of the

season, it still held a vast body of water, and, with the darkening shades of evening beside, afforded an advantageous arena for our game to baffle his determined pursuers in: occasionally, however, he seemed to doubt its security, and moved up stream for a few pools; but his movement was constantly and promptly betrayed, either by an I gaze from a connoisseur of the sport, or some tell-tale explanation from the unversed. Upon these occasions the scene baffles description; for the lowness of the water exposed him continually to the view of his assailants, both hounds and men, who seemed to rival one another in attacking him, and in the use of their tongues whilst doing so; and the unison of these sounds produced what I shall ask my reader to fancy, as he will get a better and more just idea thereby than were I to attempt a description; but, on regaining the deep and quieted waters of the Old Pool, the numbers of bipeds who had been active in pursuit were forced to leave it to the quadrupeds, and fall back into spectators.

The scene now became romantic and beautiful to a degree, for a bright and well-nigh full moon having mounted the evening skies, lit up the deep vale with its silvery light, and danced upon the heaving bosom of the Factory Pool, which, by the crossing splashes of the dogs, seemed studded with fiery stars and spangles, edged with borders of dark shadow that the overhanging banks flung on its surface; within precinct of which our game took air, unmolestedly and unlimitedly, as often as necessity prompted the desire.

The sport now became more spirited, and doubly enhanced in its power of excitement to me, by our game frequently breaking the land, exposing himself to view, and becoming from time to time surrounded by some score of shouting assailants, which led me to suppose we were very probably pursuing the identical otter that had so provokingly foiled us during the last season. He had made one of these essays of his powers on the land about every alternate hour, and then regained the sheltering waters of the Old Pool, whose previously dark bosom soon became crested with lambent flame, as the pack continued to work their game from side to side and lair to lair.

As nearly as I remember, it was after the third return of our game to the Old Pool from a trip on the land, with the pack close at his stern, that a sudden and imposing silence gained dominion of the vale for a few brief moments; as the moon became obscured by a dark but passing cloud, and he availed himself of the gloom, broke land, and got away on the opposite side in real earnest, unseen and unheard; and, just as the pack had scented out his departure, the returning moonbeams, glancing on his shining back, disclosed him to our view on the further side of the opposite marsh, pointing for the same steep side of the valley, over which I was fully satisfied he well knew how to pilot us to the river T- and that he would

strive hard to gain his point; and a tough one it proved, for his pursuers were soon on equal terms with him; but he made up in cunning for his want of pace, and bustled on through every hedge-cope and row that offered a friendly obstruction to his otherwise too fleet pursuers. Some straggling patches of cloud had now, opportunely for him, mounted the sky, and passing across the bright orb of night,

« AnteriorContinuar »