THE FOX. 217 



hour for pastime has arrived, we behold, assembled at the cover, 

 gentlemen, with here and there a lovely lady clad in scarlet, and 

 mounted on steeds, which for breed and beauty are unparalleled in 

 the annals of hunting. The hounds, too, may rival those of Actaeon 

 himself, who, poor fellow, made the most unfortunate mistake of 

 riding up to the fountain whilst Diana was .in the bath. For this 

 unintentional act on his part, the angry goddess changed him into a 

 stag, and he was worried unknowingly by his own hounds. The 

 names of these dogs were much more sonorous than those which 

 we Englishmen give to our own dogs now-a-days. There was in 

 Actaeon's pack, " Pamphagus, et Dorceus, et Oribasus, Arcades 

 omnes, Nebrophonosque valens, et trux cum Loelape Theron." 



But to our subject. The whin-cover is drawn in scientific style. 

 Up starts Reynard, with brush as clean as ladies' gloves, and fur in 

 supreme perfection. " Tally ho ! gone away, gone away," resounds 

 from hill to hill. Following on his track, swiftly sweeps the pack, 

 with horse and foot, in one tremendous rush ; as though poor Charley 

 Stuart had risen again, and they were glad to see him. By the way, 

 he could not have been worse than any of the four Georges, if we 

 may believe the eloquent Mr Thackeray. But this means nothing ; 

 let us attend to the hunt. See there ! Sir Anthony is down in the 

 mire, and his horse has rolled over him. Never mind. The horse 

 has merely broken its neck, and the baronet has lost his right ear 

 by a kick from the dying steed. Sir Anthony will soon be sound 

 again, if his surgeon only bleeds him well ; and as for the horse, 

 there are more in the stable ready to take the field. Dash on, my 

 boys grand and lovely is the sylvan scenery ! 



" Before us, trees unnumber'd rise, 

 Beautiful in various dyes : 

 The gloomy pine, the poplar blue, 

 The yellow beech, the sable yew, 

 The slender fir, that taper grows, 

 The sturdy oak, with broad spread boughs." 



Behold to the left a whipper-in is bogged, up to the middle in a 

 quagmire! whilst the young squire, by one desperate leap, has 

 barely escaped a similar predicament. And farther onwards, on yon 

 rising slope, his reverence the Vicar has left behind him a portion 



