THE OLD BUCK. 339 



refreshed and with a good appetite, went down to 

 the little parlour to sup, where I found my two com- 

 panions and the other worthies of the village*. 



MY friend Franz von Kobell has made the fancies 

 and imaginings of the hunter, while expecting game, 

 the theme of one of his poems. He has, with his ac- 

 customed truthfulness of delineation, pictured all the 

 hopes and longings which the chamois-hunter will 

 cherish and dally with on such occasions ; and he has 

 given the end of these pleasant castles in the air, with 

 a quiet humour and, as I have often found by unwel- 

 come experience, with comic truth. And comic enough 

 it often is, if we compare our expectations at such 

 times with the eventual reality. Yet we always weave 

 new fancies, and look at the rocks and bushes and the 

 cool ravine, and think and wish so long, till at last 

 we feel sure a chamois will spring down yonder slope, 

 or that a good stag must soon emerge from the shades 

 of the forest. And at such times all seems so very 

 plausible, and wears so comely an air of truth, that at 

 last good, honest, jog-trot, sober, unimaginative Coin- 



* I afterwards (Feb. 16, 1851) got a letter from my friend Neuner, 

 containing news of the old chamois buck. He writes : " The cha- 

 mois that remain with me the summer through have this winter gone 

 over into the chase of the Eschenlohe peasantry, and have, as I am 

 told, been considerably reduced in number ; so that with me, next 

 summer, there will be but poor sport, and the whole season's shoot- 

 ing will consist at most of but a few head of game. The buck on the 

 Fricker Reisen has not changed his quarters ; he is still alive, and 

 has his stand in the same place where he used to be." 



z 2 



