To Mountain Tarn 



The outcome is that game is not killed out. 

 Enough are left to satisfy all, save those who aim 

 at a partridge poultry yard. In crossing the field 

 one startles, and is startled by, the covey. In 

 cutting the rath grass, the scythesman lays bare 

 the olive eggs. More would be there but for the 

 advantage lent to the fox. It is not quite a fair 

 test. In the duel, partridges learn to look after 

 themselves, that is, are really wild birds. They 

 are alert on the ground and strong on the wing. 

 So it is on the fields. 



On the hills the balance is on the other side, so 

 far, at least, as men can influence it. Whereas 

 grouse is a decaying cult, whose future gives rise 

 to serious misgivings, the partridge is robust, 

 with a reserve of vital energy. There is thus 

 a sporting element in the lowlands absent from 

 the hills, if for no higher motive than to guard 

 the interests of another sport. For the sake 

 of the partridge alone it is worth while to pre- 

 serve the enemy ; but if the fox can be made 

 to serve a use of its own, there is no reason to 

 grumble. 



Foreigners do not understand this fox-hunting 

 of ours. They call it running after an evil-smell- 

 ing animal. A half-serious proposal has been 

 made to present us with all the cubs. So the 

 genius of nations differs even in sport. Accord- 

 ing to George Du Maurier, an English host 

 asked a distinguished Frenchman how he liked 



