LETTER Vlir. 87 



checked myself and said no more. Not so, however, the 

 farmer, who was well to do in the world, and lived on 

 his own farm. He talked it over pretty freely after- 

 wards, and was in a great rage, declaring he would notice 

 me off his land, and kill every fox in the country. This 

 he need not have added, as the one we had just eaten 

 happened to be the " last of the Mohicans" — ^just there- 

 abouts. 



About a fortnight after this occurrence I went again 

 into the same country to try every inch of covert, hearing 

 another fox had been seen. Farmer Steers having cooled 

 a little in the meantime, and being although a great man 

 a good-hearted one as well, came out to the place of 

 meeting, but looking very much offended. There was a 

 large assemblage of bold yeomen, on good-looking horses, 

 who civilly took off their hats as they came up to look at 

 the hounds; but Mr. Steers approached not, and was 

 eyeing me with fixed attention from a little distance. 

 His friends went up and shook hands with him, and I 

 could see something was said in reference to me ; but 

 Farmer Steers shook his head. I guessed how matters 

 stood, and acted upon the hint without hesitation. Going 

 straight at once to where he was sitting with his friends, 

 I held out my hand to him, and said, " Come, Mr. 

 Steers, it is not my wish or disposition to make enemies 

 where I ought to make friends, and I will not hunt this 

 or any other country without the goodwill of the farmers 

 as well as the landlords. I was wrong in a moment of 

 excitement to swear at you the last time we met, and I 

 can only say I have been sorry for it ever since. Will 

 you shake hands ?" " Will I— yes, I will, young gentle- 

 man, and more than that, I was in the wrong as well, in 



