Fox -Hunting in New England. 



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burrow. If the snow has a crust which bears him, but through 

 which the heavier hounds break at every step, he laughs them to 

 scorn as he trips leisurely along at a tantalizingly short distance 

 before them. Hunting in such seasons is weary work, and more 

 desirable then is the solace of book and pipe by the cozy fireside, 

 where the hounds lie sleeping and dreaming of glorious days of 

 sport, already past or soon to come. 



In winter as in autumn, the sport is invigorating and exciting, 

 and Nature has now, as ever, her endless beauties and secrets for 

 him who hath eyes to behold them. To such they are manifold in 

 all seasons, and he is feasted full, whether from the bald hill-top he 

 looks forth over a wide expanse of gorgeous woods and fields, still 

 green under October skies, or sees them brown and sere through the 

 dim November haze, or spread white and far with December snows. 

 The truest sportsman is not a mere skillful butcher, who is quite unsat- 

 isfied if he returns from the chase without blood upon his garments, but 

 he who bears home from field and forest something better than game 

 and peltry and the triumph of a slayer, and who counts the day not 

 lost nor ill spent though he can show no trophy of his skill. The 

 beautiful things seen, the ways of beasts and birds noted, are what 

 he treasures far longer than the number of successful shots. 



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