eback as his fancy dictated. Having gotten together some of these
native hounds and started fox-hunting in localities where the ground
was so open as to necessitate following the chase on horseback, Mr.
Wadsworth imported a number of dogs from the best English kennels. He
found these to be much faster than the American dogs and more accustomed
to work together, but less enduring, and without such good noses. The
American hounds were very obstinate and self-willed. Each wished to work
out the trail for himself. But once found, they would puzzle it out, no
matter how cold, and would follow it if necessary for a day and night.
By a judicious crossing of the two Mr. Wadsworth finally got his present
fine pack, which for its own particular work on its own ground would be
hard to beat. The country ridden over is well wooded, and there are many
foxes. The abundance of cover, however, naturally decreases the number
of kills. It is a very fertile land, and there are few farming regions
more beautiful, for it is prevented from being too tame in aspect by
the number of bold hills and deep ravines. Most of the fences are high
posts-and-rails or "snake" fences, although there is an occasional stone
wall, haha, or water-jump. The steepness of the ravines and the density
of the timber make it necessary for a horse to be sure-footed and able
to scramble anywhere, and the fences are so high that none but very good
jumpers can possibly follow the pack. Most of the horses used are bred
by the farmers in the neighborhood, or are from Canada, and they usually
have thoroughbred or trotting-stock blood in them.

One of the pleasantest days I ever passed in the saddle was after Mr.
Wadsworth's hounds. I was staying with him at the time, in company with
my friend Senator Cabot Lodge, of Boston. The meet was about twelve
miles distant from the house. It was only a small field of some
twenty-five riders, but there was not one who did not mean going. I was
mounted on a young horse, a powerful, big-boned black, a great jumper,
though perhaps a trifle hot-headed. Lodge was on a fine bay, which
could both run and jump. There were two or three other New Yorkers and
Bostonians present, several men who had come up from Buffalo for the
run, a couple of retired army officers, a number of farmers from the
neighborhood; and finally several members of a noted local family
of hard riders, who formed a class by themselves, all having taken
naturally to every va