I think I still hear the voice of old Will crying out, “Every hound has got a fox!” As I jumped over the fence, he was still holding his whip in the air, undecided which of the four lots (into which the hounds had divided) he should follow. So good was the scent on that day, that although only about four couples of hounds followed me, I went straight to another drain; and, strange to say, there found another of the same party as before, which accounted for the two first lots of hounds leaving a short time before they ran up to the earth. Here our lives were again in danger; and, hearing the men again digging at some distance, I profited by what had passed, and pushed beyond it. My unfortunate fellow was again forced out by the same terrier, and fell a victim to our foes; who, not suspecting that another fox was in the earth, again left me. “Well, Will, do you recollect the foresay about there being half a dozen foxes in the last drain?” “I do, my lord; and now the gentleman’s foresays have all been fulfilled from beginning to end.” During the time they were waiting for the terrier at the last drain, and doubting whether he could be found, a farmer was filling in the stones at the entrance of the drain, and being asked what he was about, he answered,—“Why, if the terrier don’t come, we will starve the fox to death, which is easy to do in this drain. He has had mony fowls; about forty I ken.” “What’s that?” said the Southron. “Pretty sort of encouragement for a gentleman to spend so much money in the country in keeping hounds. Why, the Duke pays more money to the farmers in one week than all the poultry in the hunt would sell for in a twelvemonth; to say nothing of all that is spent in it by the gentlemen who hunt. If there were no foxes there would be no hounds.” “Vary true, vary true,” was the reply; “but Mr. Williamson is raather too closefisted when he pays a bittie o’ the Duke’s siller.”