197 



Us hors" otherwise, out of the thicket. 

 All those dead-and-gone gentlemen of Eng- 

 land's good greenwood now are but dry-as- 

 dust ghosts, for all their prowess and splen- 

 dor. Their sport lives with their race. 

 Shorn though it be of form and conse- 

 quence, it might warm the cockles of their 

 fleshless hearts to see in what lusty strength 

 these slips of English stocks keep up the 

 pastime of old days. The old order chang- 

 eth the natural man survives. While time 

 endures, this Saxon, whether of the old world 

 or the new, shall love, as he loves naught 

 else in life's gift, the flash and leaping of 

 trout lured to death in still pools, the sing- 

 ing of bullets sped straight and well, the 

 breathless ardors of the chase, the race. 



Master Fox has doubled. Now the full cry 

 rings down wind. See the dogs tumbling, 

 writhing, over that crooked fence. They 

 have been running almost on view heads 

 up, tails down so close upon their quarry 

 there was no need to lay nose to the tainted 

 herbage he had crossed. They caught the 

 scent hot in the air. All the hunters knew 

 it when they heard the last wild burst of 

 furious dog -music. So, hearing, they sat 

 straighter in the saddle, gave their good 

 beasts the spur. A little while, and they 



