OF SEPTEMBER 123 



happy now indeed. And to those of us 

 who still know what it is to feel the 

 crisp, dew-beaded turnip leaves against 

 one's legs, to those who have not for- 

 gotten those inborn instincts of the 

 chase, the cold touch of a gun-barrel, the 

 happy spaniels with the sheen on their 

 dew-drenched flanks as they emerge 

 from the clover, together with the thrill 

 which hard exercise affords, are as fitting 

 parts of the "season of mists " as that 

 bracken which, having relaxed the sup- 

 port which it had among the hazel 

 branches, has fallen, a splash of yellow, 

 across the path. 



The spirit of sport rises again in these 

 days as sap rises after rain. The air is 

 charged with vitality and the days seem 

 young again. To wade knee -deep 

 through tall, strong rushes growing in 

 an oozy bed, and sometimes deeper still 

 in the mossy bogs that hide between the 

 hummocks of heather, in the chase of the 



