BEAUTY OF THE FOX 51 



champion the squirrel, that pretty, passionate 

 creature, most birdlike of mammals; and some 

 white-haired veteran sportsman would perhaps 

 speak in glowing terms of the wild cat as seen in a 

 tearing rage. A word, too, would be spoken for 

 the otter, and the weasel, and the hare, and the 

 harvest - mouse, and the white Chillingham bull, 

 and the wild goat on the Welsh mountains. These 

 two last, after some discussion, would doubtless be 

 disqualified, and the roe and fallow deer entered 

 instead; but no person would say a word about 

 the wolf and wild boar, the last of these noble 

 quadrupeds having been slain by some Royal 

 hunter half a thousand or more years ago. And 

 no one would mention the marten, or even know 

 whether or not, like the wolf and 'boar, it had 

 become " part and parcel of the dreadful past." 

 Some one would, however, put in a plea for the 

 hermit badger one with sharper sight or more 

 patient than the others, or perhaps more fortunate; 

 and the company would be highly amused. 



The rough, grizzled brock, our little British bear, 

 would perhaps be better described as a fearsome 

 or sublime than a beautiful beast. At all events, 

 I lately had a singular instance of the terrifying 

 effect of a badger related to me by a rural police- 

 man in West Cornwall, a giant six feet six in height, 

 a mighty wrestler, withal a sober, religious man, 

 himself a terror to all evil-doers in the place. His 

 beat extends on one side to the border of a wide, 

 level moor, and one very dark night last winter 



