We had just finished our breakfast one morning, and were lying about the court to assist digestion, when I chanced to remark that I considered the flesh not quite so nicely cooked as usual.

“Your palate must be out of order,” returned Trimbush. “Mark is as good a boiler as ever heated a copper.”

“Still the material might have been tough,” said I, “and consequently required longer boiling.”

“I think not,” rejoined my friend, with a smack of his lips. “My taste may be depended upon in such important matters.”

“A great deal of one’s comfort depends upon the cook,” I observed.

“Beyond conception,” emphatically replied the old hound. “In addition to which,” he continued, “we can’t perform our duties unless properly kept. The meal must be good and old, the flesh well but not over-boiled, and the broth rich and sweet to enable us to kill foxes handsomely. Our strength, speed, and wind, depend upon the feeding.”

“No doubt about it,” coincided I.

“I remember,” resumed my friend, “hearing a scientific opinion given on this important subject to us from a thorough-going sportsman of the name of Cecil. In a few words I think more was never spoken.”

“If not too much trouble,” said I, “it would gratify me to hear it repeated.”

“A pleased and patient listener,” returned Trimbush, “invariably renders me a willing speaker.” And after settling himself in a position of the greatest ease, he commenced the following philosophical dissertation on catering for foxhounds:

“It is a circumstance very universally remarked by masters of hounds, huntsmen, and others who are in the habit of making observations in the field, that hounds have appeared sooner blown when running on moist days during this season than usual. The cause has evidently arisen from the peculiar mildness of the weather. Whenever the atmosphere is damp and warm, it contains a less quantity of oxygen than when it is dry, clear, and bracing, and the effect on the respiratory organs of all animals when brought into active exertion is very apparent. Hounds have been observed to lap water when going to covert more freely on some occasions than others, which is also a symptom of the effect of the atmosphere.

“Liebig’s very clever work may be consulted to advantage, to ascertain how and why certain causes and effects in the animal economy are produced; but as many persons who may be interested on the subject have not an opportunity of procuring it, I will introduce a few abbreviated extracts, which are most particularly connected with the effects of food and the peculiar conditions of the atmosphere.

“Liebig says, ‘Two animals, which in equal times take up by means of the lungs and skin[2] unequal quantities of oxygen, consume quantities of the same nourishment which are unequal in the same ratio.

“‘The consumption of oxygen in equal times may be expressed by the number of respirations: it is clear that in the same individual the quantity of nourishment required must vary with the force and number of the respirations.

“‘A child, in whom the organs of respiration are naturally very active, requires food oftener than an adult, and bears hunger less easily. A bird deprived of food dies on the third day, while a serpent, with its sluggish respiration, can live without food three months or longer.

“‘The number of respirations is less in a state of rest than during exercise or work. The quantity of food necessary in both conditions must vary in the same ratio.

“‘The quantity of oxygen inspired is also affected by the temperature and density of the atmosphere.

“‘It is no difficult matter in warm climates to study moderation in eating, and men can bear hunger for a long time under the Equator, but cold and hunger united very soon exhaust the body.’

“Liebig also states, ‘That the quantity of food is regulated by the number of respirations, by the temperature of the air, and by the amount of heat given off to the surrounding medium.’

“From the foregoing remarks, it will be seen how great an influence food has upon animals called upon to exert such violent labour as foxhounds are. The comparisons of the duration of life, when deprived of food, between the bird and the serpent, I apprehend, relates to birds whose nature it is to feed upon grain only, because the carnivorous birds live much longer without food, their respiration being slower: and I infer by this that the power of endurance in hounds, and their perfection of wind and condition, are regulated by feeding them with a due proportion of flesh, which, prepared by being boiled, is converted at once into blood.

“All animals partaking of a mixed diet, partly of grain, will be greatly influenced in their respiratory organs by the proportions which are given to them and the state of the atmosphere. The quality of the blood being regulated by the quantity and the quality of food consumed, its capability of passing through the lungs is governed. When an animal has partaken largely of food which renders the blood of that character as to cause the consumption of a great quantity of oxygen in its passage through the lungs, and the atmosphere is deficient of that important gas—which is always the case in close damp weather, such as is occasionally experienced during the winter—it follows, as a matter of course, that hounds, and all such animals, will quickly evince symptoms of distress, or, familiarly speaking, will become blown, as the causes which produce that effect predominate.

“In hot climates man consumes very little, if any, animal food; in cold ones, scarcely anything else: and the Esquimaux will partake of blubber, animal oils, or fat—a food nauseating and disgusting to the people of another climate.

“With these facts it becomes apparent how the quantity and quality of food require to be regulated by circumstances, especially on the day before hunting.

“There are few, if any, masters of hounds or huntsmen who are not aware of the necessity of giving small proportions of flesh during the warm weather at the commencement of the season, and again in the spring, when such a condition of the atmosphere generally prevails as that which we so universally experience during the months of November, December, and January. Without a certain proportion of flesh, it is well known that hounds cannot work; that is to say, they cannot go through the fatigues of a quick burst or a protracted chase; at the same time, too large a quantity will render them gross and plethoric, consequently incapable of exertion.

“As the quality of the food depends in a very great degree upon the manner in which it is prepared, that becomes a subject worthy of considerable attention. It is a practice in many kennels to boil the flesh to a most unnecessary and prejudicial extent, but it is a custom which cannot be too strongly objected to. Flesh over-boiled is divested of its nutritive properties in a very great degree. It may be remarked by some, those who are advocates for excessive boiling, that if the nutritive properties are extracted from the flesh, they are contained in the broth, and that broth being given to the hounds, the nutritious principles are still preserved—an argument which I can by no means agree to.

“Like man, the hound is found to thrive best upon food composed of flesh and grain combined, consequently a comparison between the two may with propriety be introduced. When a man undergoes the ordeal of training for an athletic engagement, the animal food which he partakes of is only subject to the process of cooking in a moderate degree; overdone meat is studiously avoided. To the valetudinarian broth is prescribed as affording light nourishment with a moderate expenditure of the powers of digestion, but is never called in aid to form a principal portion of the aliment for the human subject at a time when great exertion is required. It is always found that broth creates thirst with us, and there is no doubt it has the same effect on the hound when given to a great extent, more especially when made very strong.

“I must observe, that I am by no means about to recommend the disuse of broth in the kennel; but I wish to point out the propriety of giving it in moderate quantities, and of depending upon the flesh which is given for containing the bulk of nourishment, and giving it in that state when it contains the greatest quantity. It is an impression with some huntsmen, that by boiling the flesh to an excessive degree, the bad qualities are extracted—that is to say, if the horse had any disease about him, that the humours would be extracted from the flesh; but then it must be remembered that they would be contained in the broth, in which state they would be quite as injurious, or perhaps more so.

“At the time when an animal is performing great exertion, it is essentially requisite that his stomach should contain but a small quantity of food, but that food should be of a nutritious character and easy of digestion. The practice that I would recommend, and it is one borne out by the reasons already assigned, as well as by experiment, is, not to give hounds any broth at all in their food on the day before hunting.

“The pudding must be reduced with pure water which has been boiled, and the usual allowance, or perhaps, on some occasions, a trifling addition to the accustomed portion of flesh must of course be given; by this method of feeding, hounds will most assuredly do their work far better than when a quantity of broth with very little or no flesh is given; a custom adopted in some kennels with very bad results. From such treatment, hounds will be observed light of muscle, big in their bodies, and incapable of running up at the conclusion of a severe day. By adopting the recommendation of substituting water which has been boiled, for broth, on the day before hunting, it will be found that hounds will not evince an equal degree of thirst by constantly lapping on their road to cover, nor will they be so soon blown in chase.”

“There,” ejaculated Trimbush, upon the completion of his task, “that’s what I call giving the ‘why’s’ for all the ‘wherefores.’”

Clever and philosophical as I deemed this delivery to be, I had become somewhat wearied with it, and in order to divert my companion from steeping his senses in forgetfulness, which his blinking eyelids bore evidence was fast approaching, I asked him if he had ever turned his attention to the poetry as well as to the practical details of hunting.

“What do you mean?” inquired Trimbush, with a sleepy stare of surprise.

“Simply, whether you have made the attempt of earning for yourself that fame,” replied I, “which I intend gaining for myself?”

“I’m quite in the dark,” rejoined my companion, testily.

“Well, then,” returned I, “to be more explicit, I mean to let my tongue appear in print.”

“In print!” exclaimed Trimbush, husky with surprise. “How?”

“Ah,” added I, quoting an early reply to one of my interrogatories, “there are many things as clear to our vision as the sunshine at noon, and yet their causes are hid in impenetrable darkness.”

“Well, well!” added my friend, “I don’t wish to appear inquisitive, but if you should mix me up in your—your—”

“Don’t say book,” remarked I. “It sounds so gent-like.”

“Anything you please,” said Trimbush. “But as I was about saying,” continued he, “if you should come out so powerfully strong, perhaps you’d make room for a little slice of an attempt at a song upon our worthy master—God bless him!”

“Of your composing?” inquired I.

Trimbush coughed, licked his paws, examined the tip of his stern, as if a flea was taking a liberty in that quarter, but gave no answer.

I repeated the question.

“As you will have it,” he rejoined, pettishly, “then it is my composition.”

“I feel assured that you need not be ashamed of it,” returned I. “Pray let me hear the effusion.”

“You’ll not laugh?” said he, inquiringly.

“Not if the intent be serious,” I replied.

“In that case,” rejoined Trimbush, “here goes!” and in a subdued, melodious voice, he commenced his original song of

THE OLD HUNTING SQUIRE.