THE FREEDOM OF THE HUNTER. 289 



willingly part with half of his pelf to be able to lead 

 such a life ^ under the green wood tree.' 



Like other walks in life, however, the apprenticeship 

 must be served when young, or it will never half be 

 learned if taken to too late, when the eye has become 

 sluggish, the foot slow, and the arm soft for want of 

 vigorous use. 



Who can be more independent? No landlord de- 

 mands his rent, no tax-collector troubles you with, his 

 unwelcome visits, nor is your water or gas turned off 

 because the rates are not paid. The conventionalities 

 of civilised life, which bind you as with steel bands, 

 are dispensed with; for why should a man dress to 

 dine by himself at a camp-fire? And his morning 

 calls are made more satisfactorily upon the deer and 

 wild "turkeys than they would be in heated drawing- 

 rooms, twaddling over the last ball or the new opera. 



A wife, man's ^greatest blessing here below,' would 

 be one too many in the woods, and so the hunter is 

 spared those little ebullitions of temper to which some- 

 times earthly angels give way, and he is left with 

 no one to quarrel with but himself, and as his life is 

 spent in healthy toil, his mind free from carking cares, 

 his temper is always even and good. 



The world owes not a little to the restless temperament 

 which produces hunters and travellers ; it has produced 

 a Burton, a Speke, a Grant, and last, though equal to 



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