hment of a
kennel in a spot already fixed upon for the purpose, (it was somewhere
about the site where Constantine's mother was buried, and where, by
tradition, Nero's ghost is supposed to brood, beyond the Pons Nomentana,
and the Sacred mount); and having obtained the desired leave, the dogs
were at once established in their new settlement. When they had
recovered the fatigues of their journey, a notice was posted up,
advertising the first "throw off" for the next day. On this occasion
they hunted an old fox round the Claudian Aqueduct, into the body of
which, on getting over his surprise, he scoured a retreat, thus baffling
the pursuers. The next field-day his successor was not so fortunate,
losing both brush and life at the end of a long run. The third was
distinguished by the feat of a Roman prince, who contrived to be in at
the death, and received the brush for his encouragement. After this the
weekly obituary of foxes increased permanently in number. Meanwhile a
few dogs disappeared in subterranean mystery, awkward falls occurred,
wrists and ankles were dislocated; but no brains spilt. At last forty
persons, having nothing better to do with themselves, agree to meet
regularly twice a-week and to set up a subscription. While it is yet
early in the winter, dogs come dropping in by couples, from various
well-wishers in England; while large orders in the shape of scarlet
coats and hunting-caps, duly executed and forwarded, are stopped at the
Dogana Apostolica, and after a suitable demur on account of the
Cardinalesque colour, allowed to pass, on paying a handsome duty. These
_liveries_ at first produced a great sensation in Rome, not only amongst
the hierarchy, who were jealous of the profanation, but with the
populace, both within and without the walls: from the prince to the
peasant, every body had something to say about them. As they paced along
the streets the men stared in silent admiration, while the women clapped
their hands and cried, "_Guardi! Guardi!_" When they trotted out to
cover, the delighted swine-herd whistled to his pigs to make way for
them to pass; while the mounted buffalo-driver, from some crag above the
road, would point them out with his long-spiked pole, to the man in the
sheepskin who was on foot. We do not know what comments _these_ might
make, but those of the Roman townsfolk were by no means in keeping with
the flattering admiration they expressed. "What a gay livery!" said a
Roman citizen,