chiens plenty to do.
Apparently they knew all their names, as we heard frequent admonitions
to Comtesse, Diane (a very favourite name for hunting dogs in France),
La Grise, etc., to keep quiet, and not make little excursions into the
woods. As the words were usually accompanied by a cut of the whip, the
dogs understood quite well, and remained a compact mass on the side of
the road. There was the usual following of boys, tramps, and stray
bucherons (woodmen), and when the day was fine, and the meet not too
far, a few people would come from the neighbouring villages, or one or
two carriages from the livery stables of Villers-Cotterets, filled
with strangers who had been attracted by the show and the prospect of
spending an afternoon in the forest. A favourite meet was at the
pretty little village of Ivors, standing just on the edge of the
forest not far from us. It consisted of one long street, a church, and
a chateau at one end. The chateau had been a fine one, but was fast
going to ruin, uninhabited, paint and plaster falling off, roof and
walls remaining, and showing splendid proportions, but had an air of
decay and neglect that was sad to see in such a fine place. The owner
never lived there; had several other places. An agent came down
occasionally, and looked after the farm and woods. There was a fine
double court-yard and enormous "communs," a large field only
separating the kitchen garden from the forest. A high wall in fairly
good condition surrounded the garden and small park. On a hunting
morning the little place quite waked up, and it was pretty to see the
dogs and horses grouped under the walls of the old chateau, and the
hunting men in their bright coats moving about among the peasants and
carters in their dark-blue smocks.

The start was very pretty--one rode straight into the forest, the
riders spreading in all directions. The field was never very
large--about thirty--I the only lady. The cor de chasse was a
delightful novelty to me, and I soon learned all the calls--the
debouche, the vue and the hallali, when the poor beast is at the last
gasp. The first time I saw the stag taken I was quite miserable. We
had had a splendid gallop. I was piloted by one of the old stagers,
who knew every inch of the forest, and who promised I should be in at
the death, if I would follow him, "mais il faut me suivre partout,
avez-vous peur?" As he was very stout, and not particularly well
mounted, and I had a capital Eng