LETTER XIII. 141 



assuming to justify the one, which has many excuses, it 

 is difficult not to condemn the other. To a real sports- 

 man the mere killing of the fox is no gratification. His 

 running to ground or running away is a relief to many, 

 for he lives to run another day. The excitement and 

 ardour of the chase, and its health-giving exercise, are 

 its chief attractions, and I think there can be no ques- 

 tion if a fox had his choice of being hung up in a steel 

 trap all night by his foot, pierced through and through, 

 and torn nearly off in his agonizing endeavours to escape, 

 or to be found by the hounds (taking his chance of good 

 or bad scenting days), and to run for his life, which he 

 would select. In one case, eight or ten hours' excruci- 

 ating torture, before the brute of a keeper arrives, to 

 beat his brains out with a bludgeon, or destroy him by 

 a more lingering death — in the other " horcB momento 

 cita mors venit aut victoria Id^ta,''^ 



