CHAPTER X 



HUNTING ABROAD 



"One hour of glorious life is worth an age without a name." 



Before closing the subject, a few words about hunt- 

 ing in the true home of the sport may not be amiss. 

 There were, before the war, in the British Isles, on an 

 area only a little larger than the State of Pennsyl- 

 vania, 390 packs of foxhounds, staghounds, and har- 

 riers, to say nothing of 12 packs of draghounds, while 

 here in America we have in all only 56 packs of hounds. 



The difference is partly due to the fact that the 

 sport in England and Ireland is of such ancient origin 

 that "when hunting was the labour of the savages of 

 North America, it was but the amusement of the 

 gentlemen of England." Partly, too, because over 

 there every man, woman, and child loves sport and 

 is a horseman after a fashion; because horse-raising 

 is indulged in far more extensively than here, and 

 even the humblest farmers and peasants take a 

 keen interest in the sport. When you are hacking 

 home after a day's run, they stop you to ask how the 

 hounds went, and where you killed, and how long a 

 point the fox made, and finish by offering you a cup 

 of tea. In and out of season, the whole countryside 

 is enthusiastic about hunting and about horses and 

 hounds, and nearly all farmers walk two or more 

 couples of puppies for the kennels, and take great 

 pride in their charges when they compete at the 

 annual puppy show. 



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