LIFE OF THE FIELDS. 



VILLAGE MINERS. 



" RIGHT so, the hunter takes his pony which has been 

 trained for the purpose, and stalks the deer behind 

 him ; the pony feeds towards the herd, so that they do 

 not mind his approach, and when within a hundred 

 yards, the hunter kneels down in the grass and fixes 

 his iron rest or fork in the ground. He rests his Win- 

 chester rifle in the fork, and aims under the pony 

 (which stands quite still), at his game. He generally 

 kills one dead at the first shot, and wounds two or 

 three more, firing rapidly after the first discharge so 

 as to get as many shots as possible before the herd is 

 out of range." So writes a friend in the wilds of 

 Texas, adding that the hides fetch a few dollars. 

 "Eight so, departed Sir Launcelot." . . . "Right so, 

 Sir Launcelot, his father, dressed his spear." . . . 

 "Right so, he heard a voice that said;" so runs the 

 phrase in the " Mort d'Arthur," that ancient history of 

 the Round Table, which was published nearly four 

 hundred years ago. The coincidence of phrase indi- 

 cates some resemblance in the circumstances, though 

 so wide apart in time and distance. In England, in 

 those old days, men lived in the woods and forests 

 out-of-doors and were occupied with manual worka 



