FOX-HUNTING. 2SJ^ 



I'he fox is unsocial, and never hunts in packs; he therefore never 

 attacks powerful animals. Birds, hares, or rabbits form his customary 

 diet, but he does not dislike certain fruits ; for grapes it exhibits a great 

 fondness. 



In the north of the continent of Europe and in England the color of 

 the fox is red ; but as we proceed southward we find both gray and black 

 foxes, till in Spain he becomes small and fawn-colored. The fox resides 

 in burrows, which it scoops out of the earth by the aid of its paws, wind- 

 ing its way among the roots of large trees or between heavy stones. 

 Here the vixen, or female fox, produces and nurtures her cubs, which 

 she educates with great care. 



In England fox-hunting is the favorite sport of the w ealthier classes, 

 and its headquarters are in the county of Leicester. The soil being for 

 the most part good, is highly favorable for scent ; there is an immense 

 proportion of grazing land in comparison with arable, and the enclosures 

 are large, the fields running up to one hundred acres each. Large woods 

 are scarce, while natural covers of gorse abound. In addition to these, 

 artificial covers are sometimes made with stakes set a certain height from 

 the ground for the grass to grow over them ; but these are far inferior to 

 those of natural brushwood. Usually from twenty to twenty-five couples 

 of hounds are taken out, and it is the custom, quite necessary in these 

 days, for each sportsman to have two horses, the second one being ridden 

 by a groom well acquainted with the country, who rides his horse slowly 

 and carefully, not following the hounds, but seeking to meet his master 

 at some favorable point and give him an opportunity to change horses. 



A meet of Fox-hounds is a very pretty sight ; the numerous carriages 

 that bring the sportsmen to the field, the magnificent horses that are being 

 walked about till the sport begins, the scarlet coats of the riders, the 

 strong yet graceful forms of the hounds, form a scene almost impossible 

 to describe. 



Let us indulge ourselves with a fine morning in the first week of 

 February, and at least two hundred well-mounted men by the cover's 

 side. Time being called — say a quarter past eleven, nearly our great- 

 grandfathers' dinner-hour — the hounds approach the furze-brake, or the 

 gorse, as it is called in that region. A cheer and a wave of the master's 

 cap sends the dogs into the cover. In a very short time the gorse 

 appears shaken in various parts of the cover — apparently from an un- 

 known cause, not a single hound being for some minutes visible. Pres- 



