SEPTEMBER. 247 



ferocity in every thing, and in nothing has that 

 brutality been more evinced than in that whole- 

 sale butchery which many gentlemen have, of 

 late years, thought fit to boast of in the news- 

 papers, deeming it an honour to slaughter some 

 hundred brace of birds in a day ; but the hu- 

 mane and practised sportsman, led on, not by a 

 blood-thirstiness worthy of a Cossack, nor by 

 vanity worthy of an idiot, nor by the pleasure 

 of seeing an unfortunate animal run gasping be- 

 fore the jaws of its enemies, and suffer at every 

 step a death of fear, but by the desire of a 

 healthful recreation, will single out his victim 

 and destroy it in a moment. The shooter in 

 truth enjoys to the utmost what is here said of 



THE HUNTER. 



High life of a hunter ! he meets on the hill 



The new-wakened daylight, so bright and so still ; 



And feels, as the clouds of the morning unroll, 



The silence, the splendour, ennoble his soul. 



'Tis his on the mountains to stalk like a ghost, 



Enshrouded in mist, in which nature is lost, 



Till he lifts up his eyes, and flood, valley and height, 



In one moment all swim in an ocean of licht ; 



While the sun like a glorious banner unfurled, 



Seems to wave o'er a new, more magnificent world. 



'Tis his, by the mouth of some cavern his seat, 



The lightnii g of heaven to behold at his feet, 



While the thunder below him, that growls from the cloud, 



To him comes in echo more awfully loud. 



