with gorse. Here rabbits in numbers are out feeding, but we only get a momentary glimpse of their white scuts ere they disappear down their burrows. The next field is a wheat stubble, which we cross over, putting up as we go a covey of birds— evidently disturbed at their morning meal-which rise and skim over the hedgerow opposite and drop into an adjacent field of roots. This is where the harbourer expects to find signs of his quarry, as it is one of their favourite feeding places and there are numerous old tracks of them all around. The roots are somewhat thin at that part of the field we first enter, and have here been left undisturbed, as a stag is no bad judge of a turnip; so we moved on to where they are thicker and of more abundant growth. Ah! here is something that tells a tale-a root partly eaten and freshly pulled this morning, for the top, or leaves, are newly bruised, and there is little trace on them of last night's heavy dew, which has been shaken off in the uprooting. Hard by in the soft soil is the broad slot of a heavy stag, and it is one the harbourer has had his eye on for some time; but to make sure that it is the deer he wants, he walks some few paces towards the fence, and, raising a flattish stone, shows me underneath a slot which exactly corresponds to that of our friend of this morning.

I had often heard that deer, when on the feed, create an amount of destruction that is far in excess of what they actually consume, and here indeed is ample proof, the turnips being rooted up and tossed hither and thither, sometimes but half eaten, and occasionally only a single bite taken, as if they had been pulled up out of sheer mischief. Stags, particularly old ones, are far the worst offenders in this respect, the hinds merely contenting themselves with eating down without uprooting, the reason probably being that the stag, with his greater strength of neck, bites and uproots at one and the same time. And now, having found that the stag we want has been using' the field that morning, we make for the fence to discover by what gap he left it. This is no very difficult matter, as the ground is favourable, and we soon find and hit off his slot, which leads us along a well-worn 'rack,' that winds zigzag fashion in and out of the heather, and one evidently much used by the deer when coming to and from the coverts.

The dew still lies heavy on the slopes of the hill out of the sun's rays, and here slotting is fairly easy; but as we breast the top, where the ground is harder, the work becomes more difficult. More than once the harbourer is at fault, and has to make a cast round to pick up the track; but his instinct seems to help him,

NO. XIV. VOL. III.

T

and each time, like some wary old hound, he hits it off again. Now it leads us across the open moor, then by the outskirts of a small plantation, along the top end of which runs the high road which crosses this part of the hills. Here, again, a cast has to be made to find out where our quarry turned off; but a slight depression made by the deer's toes when he mounted the bank, and a broken twig of a wort bush with two or three freshly squashed berries, gives us the clue. This was perhaps the best piece of work I saw, for it seemed at first well-nigh impossible to be able to tell on that hard metal road where the beast had turned off, or even whether he had taken to right or left.

The slot leads us in the direction of Seven Wells Combe,' and keeps for some distance by the margin of a tiny rivulet which very truly sparkles out among the fern to bicker down the valley.'

For several yards on both sides of the stream the ground is soft and boggy, showing plainly every track, and we are consequently able to make good way and follow at a fair pace. Though there is not much time for general observation, I cannot help noticing the wondrous beauty of the Combe at this spot; alder trees, with here and there a graceful larch, grow alongside the brook, through the leaves of which the sunlight glances and glints, lighting up the vivid and varied greens of the grasses, ferns, and wort bushes that line its banks, and making the tiny stream sparkle again as it rushes over a miniature waterfall. Both to right and left are the great coverts covering the hillsides, and away in the distance, between the hills at the end of the Combe, one gets a glimpse of the Severn Sea with the Welsh mountains just visible through the blue haze.

Continuing down the Combe for about half a mile or so, we note where our deer has drunk his fill, and also soiled' or rolled; then his tracks turn off sharp to the left, lead us across the road again, and finally disappear in the covert. But although he has entered it here, we have still to make sure he has stopped and not wandered through and out the other side. To do this we make for one of the numerous by-paths by which the coverts are intersected. Every yard has to be carefully scrutinised, and at the same time great care must be taken not to disturb him. Fortunately what little wind there is has so far been in our favour; for it must be remembered that deer are gifted with the most wonderful powers, and that the slightest taint of a human being coming down wind when they are on the move and before they are settled for the day will often turn them miles in another

direction. The by-paths having been made good, our deer may therefore be considered duly harboured, though our morning's work is not yet finished, as a good harbourer will always have a second string to his bow in the shape of another deer, in case the first should be disturbed. Much of the work has therefore to be gone over again, and it is nearly ten o'clock before we are able to eat our well-earned breakfast at a neighbouring farm, for which our five hours' tramp has given us the proverbial hunter's appetite.

It will thus be seen that the harbourer's post is no sinecurein fact, he undertakes one of the most important and at the same time difficult parts in the chase of the wild stag. Beyond a few simple facts, it is as impossible for him to explain the intricacies of his art as it would be for a landscape painter to say off the reel how he obtained certain effects in his compositions. To become skilled in his craft takes many years of experience and careful observation, not only of the habits of deer, but also of the thousand and one small details of woodland, moor, and stream that alone can give that knowledge of wild life usually termed woodcraft.' And then, again, it is not by any means all eye work. He needs a keen memory, and he must be able to put two and two together and reason, and that quickly. Of patience and perseverance he requires more than an average amount, and also a constitution impervious to wind and rain, and long weary tramps through dew-drenched heather or rain-soaked coverts. When all these requisites are taken into consideration, perhaps his fee of 17. for every stag harboured is not excessive.

But although a deer be duly harboured, it is not always easy to force him to break covert. An old stag is far more cunning than is usually supposed, and before running' himself he will beat the covert through, and endeavour to find a younger one to do duty for him. Should he be successful, he proceeds to rouse the youngster from his bed and lie low in it himself, hoping thereby to escape the hounds. This trick he will try time after time; but the huntsman is up to his little games, and the 'tufters' have to be stopped each time a fresh deer is roused until our friend is found. At last things are made too warm for him, and, seeing this game of hide-and-seek is no go, he accepts the inevitable and dashes away. It has been stated on good authority that two stags have even been seen fighting to settle which should be hunted, and that with the hounds close on them.

In the beginning of October, as the rutting season ap