On Hunting , Shooting , &c. 351 
the echoing of the horn refounds from the adja¬ 
cent valley, and the cry of the deep-mouthed 
hounds thunders towards the hills. She becomes 
motionlefs with fear, when a fecond alarm roufes 
her from her trance fhe flies, and with eager 
fleps feems to outftrip the winds. Men, horfes, 
and dogs inftantly join in the chace, and the 
foreft echoes to the wild uproar. The hare 
doubles—the fwiftnefs of her fpeed abates—fear, 
more than fatfgue, retards her flight—fhe faints 
at the noife of the approaching hounds—re¬ 
doubles to elude their purfuit—her feeble limbs 
are unable to perform their office—and now—• 
breathlefs and exhaufted, fhe is overtaken, and 
torn in pieces by her mercilefs purfuers. 
Such a doom feems fevere, and hard is the 
heart which doth not commiferate the fuffierer. Its 
apparent feverity will, however, be much miti¬ 
gated, if we confider the quick tranfition, from 
perfedt health to the expiring conflidt. Death, 
brought on by difeafe, or the decay of nature, 
would be much more to be dreaded; and com, 
pared therewith, the fate of the partridge from 
the gun of the fowler, or of the trout by the rod 
of the angler, is mild and enviable. 
To recapitulate then what hath been advanced 
on this fubjedt—We have feen the human mind, 
in every age, endowed with a ftrong, natural in¬ 
clination to thefe diverfions. In the favage 
ftate, we have feen, that the fituation of man 
renders 
