“What rage for fame attends both great and small! 
      Better be d—­d than mentioned not at all.”

We all want to ride in the front rank, and are, or ought to be, d—­d accordingly by the long-suffering M.F.H.

On Wednesdays the Cotswold hounds are always within easy reach of Cirencester.  There are few better packs than the Cotswold.  Started forty years ago with part of the V.W.H. pack which Lord Gifford was giving up, the Cotswold hounds have received strains of the best blood of the Brocklesby, Badminton, Belvoir, and Berkeley kennels.  They have therefore both speed and stamina as well as good noses.  Their huntsman, Charles Travess, has no superior as far as we know; the result is that for dash and drive these hounds are unequalled.  Notwithstanding the severe pace at which they are able to run, owing to the absence of high hedges and other impediments—­for most of the country is enclosed with stone walls—­they hunt marvellously well together and do not tail; they are wonderfully musical, too,—­more so than any other pack.

Here it is worth our while to analyse briefly the qualities which combine to make this huntsman so deservedly popular with all who follow the Cotswold hounds.  We venture to say that he pleases all and sundry, “thrusters,” hound-men, and liver-men alike, because he invariably has a double object in view—­he hunts his fox and he humours his field.  And firstly he hunts his fox in the best possible method, having regard to the scenting capabilities of the Cotswold Hills.

He is quick as lightning, yet he is never in a hurry—­that is to say, in a “bad hurry.”  When the hounds “throw up” or “check,” like all other good huntsmen he gives them plenty of time.  He stands still and he makes his field stand still; then may be seen that magnificent proof of canine brain-power, the fan-shaped forward movement of a well-drafted, old-established pack of foxhounds, making good by two distinct casts—­right-and left-handed—­the ground that lies in front of them and on each side.  Should they fail to hit off the line, the advantage of a brilliant huntsman immediately asserts itself.  Partly by certain set rules and partly by a knowledge of the country and the run of foxes, but more than all by that daring genius which was the making of Shakespeare and the great men of all time, he takes his hounds admirably in hand, aided by two quiet, unassuming whippers-in, and in four cases out of five brings them either at the first or second cast to the very hedgerow where five minutes before Reynard took his sneaking, solitary way.  It may be “forward,” or it may be down wind, right or left-handed, but it is at all events the right way; thus, owing to this happy knack of making the proper cast at a large percentage of checks this man establishes his reputation as a first-class huntsman.

Should the day be propitious, a run is now assured, unless some unforeseen occurrence, such as the fox going to ground, necessitates a draw for a fresh one; but in any case, owing to this marvellous knack of hitting off the line at the first check, our huntsman generally contrives to show a run some time during the day.