CHAPTER EIGHT. 



THE FOX. 



THERE is something in the sight of a wild fox 

 steahng across a ride with a whisk of his brush, 

 or saihng boldly away over the open that stirs 

 the pulse and gladdens the eye. Why it is that the 

 same animal in captivity or partly tamed does not 

 excite a like interest it is hard to explain. 



To quote Mr. Jorrocks, in one of his sporting lectures, 

 *' Oh ! how that beautiful word fox gladdens my 'eart. 

 In the summer I loves him with all the hardour of 

 affection ; not an 'air of his beautiful 'ead would I 

 hurt ; but when the hautumn comes, then dash my 

 vig, 'ow I glories in pursuing of him to destruction. 

 And yet it ar'n't that I loves the fox less, but that I 

 loves the 'ound more." 



Yes ! it is the truth of that last paragraph — having 

 a greater love for the hound than for the fox — which 

 is the essence of hunting. Every really good sportsman 

 is kind at heart and a lover of animals, so tha.t really 

 to enjoy the chase his sympathies must always be 

 with the hounds. 



Of course, it is impossible to gauge the feeUngs of a 

 hunted fox, but personally I am quite certain from 

 observation during many years that until the last^few 



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