THE HARE 



You, who the sweets of rural life have known 

 Despise the ungrateful hurry of the town. . . . 

 'Tis not that rural sports alone invite, 

 But all the grateful country breathes delight. 



John Gay. 



The Haunt of the Hare ^o e> 



IT is never so much winter in the country as it 

 is in the town. The trees are still there, and in 

 and about them birds remain. " Quip ! whip ! " 

 sounds from the elms ; " Whip ! quip ! " Redwing 

 thrushes threaten with the "whip" those who 

 advance towards them ; they spend much of the 

 day in the elm-tops. Thick tussocks of old grass 

 are conspicuous at the skirt of a hedge ; half green, 

 half gray, they contrast with the bare thorn. From 

 behind one of these tussocks a hare starts, his black- 

 tipped ears erect, his long hinder limbs throwing 

 him almost like a grasshopper over the sward — no 

 creature looks so handsome or startling, and it is 

 always a pleasant surprise to see him. Pheasant or 

 partridge do not surprise in the least — they are no 

 more than any other bird ; but a hare causes quite 

 a different feeling. He is perfectly wild, unfed, 

 untended, and then he is the animal in the world 

 to be shot in the fields. A rabbit slips along the 

 mound, under bushes and behind stoles, but a hare 

 bolts for the open, and hopes in his speed. He 

 leaves the straining spaniel behind, and the distance 

 90 



