256 HARE-HUNTING AND HARRIERS 



While penetrating the woodlands, whither the hare 

 had carried us, I have more than once flushed a wood- 

 cock Irom his snug resting-place under a bush or a 

 tree of wild holly, not far from the soft-banked, trick- 

 ling streamlet, whence he has been extracting dainties 

 overnight. To any one fond of wild life and of nature, 

 there is a wonderful pleasure in such little discoveries 

 as these. Most sportsmen have, I fancy, a natural 

 eye for the wild beauties of the country-side, even in 

 winter. In traversing a woodland through which 

 a hare has run, while its depths are resounding to the 

 cheerful and inspiring notes of the deep-voiced hounds, 

 how infinitely beautiful are many of its features ! The 

 exquisite carpeting of russet-brown leaves, here and 

 there, where some great beech has shed its garment, 

 reddened by the deeper hue of that wonderfully 

 coloured leafage ; the delicate winter tracery of the 

 birch trees, their silvery boles, the majestic contours 

 of the oak, the dark pine standing solitary in her 

 pride ; the beautiful colouring of jay or woodpecker 

 as, disturbed by the unwonted turmoil, they betake 

 themselves to other retreats ; all these objects, espe- 

 cially if a tender gleam of winter sun shines upon 

 them and brings out their beauties, add zest and 

 interest to the already abounding pleasures of the 

 foot-hunter. There is not, I think, a more beautiful 

 woodland picture in winter than a tree of wild holly, 

 with its berries of vivid scarlet and its gleaming dark- 

 green leaves, burnished by nature to an almost mirror- 

 like smoothness. I know of such a tree in the woods 

 adjoining Herstmonceux, which, lit up by sunshine, is 

 a marvel of winter beauty. Not one of your thick, 

 massive holly trees, solid old gentlemen of some cen- 

 turies, but a slim, tallish, elegant creature, decked in 

 harrier green and hunting scarlet, a typical lady of 



