two small, rough farms, which belonged to a non-resident landlord, and that he took out a shooting license, being thus able to dispose of his game in open market. Of course the quantity he sold, presumably from off the very poor 200 acres where his leave extended, was suspiciously large, but he was a sly old chap, and, known as he was to be a regular poacher, seemed to have a charmed life as far as the gamekeepers were concerned.
Well, I took my treasure home, gave him a tremendous grooming, fed him, and locked him up for the night, giving him a well-littered kennel to himself. That he howled and barked for twelve hours without ceasing I need hardly say; but he seemed glad to see me in the morning, and very shortly after daylight I had him in the slips with the best dog in the kennel. (It must be understood that my father bred and kept greyhounds.) A hare was soon found, but, to my dismay, the brindle hardly strained at the slips, and as soon as delivered was left immeasurably behind. The hare topped a wall at the end of the field, followed by the old dog, but the new-comer, when he reached the wall, came to a dead stop, and then proceeded to canter along with his nose down. Afterward he drew out into the middle of
