APOLOGY FOR FOX-HUNTING. '20S 



black-coated followers of any of the ninety packs which 

 our England maintains, sweep through a village, with 

 what intense delight the whole population turn out! 

 Young mothers stand at the doors, holding up their crow- 

 ing babies ; the shopkeeper, with his customers, ad- 

 journs to the street ; the windows of the school are 

 covered with flattened noses ; the parson, if of the right 

 sort, smiles blandly, and waves his hand from the porch 

 of the vicarage to half-a-dozen friends ; while the surgeon 

 pushes on his galloway and joins for half-an-hour ; all 

 the little boys holla in chorus, and run on to open gates 

 without exxDecting sixpence. As for the farmers, those 

 who do not join the hunt criticise the horseflesh, specu- 

 late on the probable price of oats, and tell 'Missis' to 

 set out the big round of beef, the bread, the cheese, and 

 get ready to draw some strong ale, — ' in case of a check, 

 some of the gentlemen might like lunch as they come 

 back. 



" It is true, among the five thousand who follow the 

 hounds daily in the hunting season, there are to be 

 found, as among most medleys of five thousand, a cer- 

 tain number of fools and brutes — mere animals, deaf to 

 the music, blind to the living poetry of nature. To such 

 men hunting is a piece of fashion or vulgar excitement, 

 but bring hunting in comparison with other amusements, 

 and it will stand a severe test. Are you an admirer of 

 scenery, an amateur or artist? Have you traversed 

 Greece and Italy, Switzerland and Norway, in search of 

 the picturesque ? You do not know the beauties of your 

 own country, until, having hunted from Northumber- 

 land to Cornwall, you have viewed the various counties 

 under the three asj^ects of a fox-hunter's day — the 

 ' morning ride,' ' the run,' and ' the return home.' 



" The morning ride, slowly pacing, full of expectation, 



