I04 FOX HUNTING. 



hidden roots go back to the time when man had 

 to hunt or starve. 



"While the younger members gather around 

 this Nestor of the chase, I give a glance at the 

 room. Stuffed foxes, nearly every one of whom 

 was the hero of a great run, grin at you from little 

 wooden shelves. In the centre of the room, on 

 the floor, is one of the largest buffalo robes ever 

 skinned from the animal. Antlers of buck and 

 moose, stufifed birds, and a whole gallery of sport- 

 ing pictures complete the outfit. The fireplace is 

 an old-fashioned one, as large as a small room, and 

 furnished with a crane that sets one's mouth 

 watering with thinking of the whiskey punches it 

 has supplied hot water for. 



"One of the stufTed foxes, whose white teeth 

 gleam in the twilight, led the members a chase of 

 seventy miles before he parted with his skin. He 

 was run to earth way down in the State of Dela- 

 ware after six hours' galloping. Out of a field of 

 sixty only four were 'in at the death.' 



"time and wind up. 



"Supper is announced and about forty persons 

 walk over into the inn's big dining room. Sam 

 Lewis, brother of the veteran Howard; Richard 

 Peters, of Media, a cousin of the beautiful l\Trs. 

 Craig Wadsworth, who died universally regretted. 



